The Supernatural Metaphysics of Childhood

That’s the Sears Tower stealing the show. I took the picture during a flight home from Las Vegas.

Chicago from the sky is an encounter from another world. Downtown fits inside the peephole of my thumb and forefinger. Imaginations burst forth.

The Sultan of the Indies on a magic carpet. Bellerphone on Pegasus. Mount Olympus.

Moments like that really get me. It’s the sensitivity of childhood retained as an adult. Most people have dispositions that block them from experiencing such things.

During my novelty buzz above Chicago, I turned from the window and looked at the passengers. No one was joining me. No one looked at the breathtaking view a mere window shade away. Not even the children parked in window seats could be bothered. Pixels on a digital screen, small talk, a nap; these were the attractions that won the attention of the passengers. The royal blue enormity of Lake Michigan from the perspective of a cloud? Don’t waste their time!

If you’ve reached adulthood and (like myself) regularly get the excitement chills, you are a very unusual person indeed.

I mentioned novelty as a cause of this heightened state of being. And it can be. But if you’re like me, it takes very little for you to become lost in wonder like you are a child again. It’s like walking around in a semi-permanent state of what I can only describe as a sort of spiritual Stendhal Syndrome.

Do you remember the mind-bending joy of Christmas, back when Santa was real? You were so thankful to live in a world where there was a Santa. I feel that same joy and gratitude now.

The low sensitivity of adults is obvious from their conversations. I noticed this first in my twenties. Most people have no desire to have spiritual play with others. Most adults have no desire to share their inner world. Their inner subjectivity – the only thing that really makes them THEM – is forever inaccessible to absolutely everyone but themselves. And they’re fine with that!

The way that most people blithely accept – CHOOSE- their own Locked-in syndrome-esque isolation is a creepy reality of human nature. If you’re of a certain temperament, it can fell intolerable.

Most people only have small talk. Most people never get serious about the transcendent. Glibness is the water they drink. I once chalked this up to lack of explanatory abilities. I used to think that people enjoyed rich inner emotional worlds hidden away. Most people just can’t put their soulgasms into words is what I thought.

I don’t believe this anymore. Most people never experience these feelings. At least not since they left the happiness of childhood. But probably never at all. They are excited by status, money and sex, and blind to all else. You can read it in their faces. You can see it in their eyes. They don’t get it. Nor do they want to. They are spiritually autistic.

What’s that like I wonder? What keeps them going? Why travel the world if you’re numb to it’s splendors? Why do anything? What gets these lizards out of bed in the morning?

Thank you, God. Thank you for making me a kid forever.

Thank you for giving me eyes to see heaven above.

Thank you for making my imagination my home.

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