Today I had another one of those wonderful afternoons babysitting my niece and nephew, and once again, they reminded me that children seem to understand something about life that adults spend decades trying to rediscover.
We went outside and they got on the swings.
And they didn’t just swing.
They swung.
Loudly. Jubilantly. Completely.
There was no concern about whether anyone was watching. No self-consciousness. No wondering if they looked silly. No checking to see who might be judging them. They were simply having the most fun they could possibly have on a swing, laughing and shouting as they went higher and higher.
And watching them, I thought: “When did we stop doing that?“
At some point, adults start becoming aware of ourselves. We begin thinking about how we look, how we sound, what people might think, whether we’re being too loud, too excited, too silly, too much.
Children haven’t learned any of that yet.
They don’t seem to care who is watching.
If they’re happy, they show it.
If something is funny, they laugh.
If they want to swing higher, they ask to go higher.
If they are having fun, they don’t pause to wonder whether they’re allowed to have that much fun.
And perhaps the most beautiful thing is that they aren’t carrying tomorrow while they’re enjoying today.
They aren’t sitting on the swing thinking about bills, work, relationships, deadlines, aging, or everything that might go wrong next week.
They’re just swinging.
We adults are remarkably good at worrying about things that haven’t happened yet.
We replay yesterday. We anticipate tomorrow. We imagine conversations that haven’t happened. We create problems in our heads and then spend enormous amounts of energy trying to solve them before they even exist.
Meanwhile, life is happening right in front of us.
Wayne Dyer had a simple way of expressing this idea:
“There is nothing to worry about.”
I love how almost absurdly simple that sounds.
Of course, there are difficult things in life. Real problems. Real losses. Real responsibilities. I’m not suggesting we should ignore them or pretend everything is perfect.
But perhaps there is a difference between dealing with a problem and worrying about everything that might become a problem.
My niece and nephew don’t know that distinction yet. They simply know how to live in the moment.
They know how to laugh loudly.
They know how to be ridiculous.
They know how to enjoy a swing without wondering whether they’re enjoying it correctly.
And maybe that’s something worth learning from them. Perhaps we don’t need to become children again. Maybe we just need to recover some of what we knew before adulthood taught us to worry about everything.
Swing a little higher.
Laugh a little louder.
Dance when the music comes on.
Say what you feel.
Enjoy the people who are with you.
And when your mind starts creating a hundred imaginary problems, maybe take a breath and ask yourself:
“Is there actually something I need to deal with right now?”
If there is, deal with it.
If there isn’t, maybe it’s time to get back on the swing.
Because life is happening now.
And sometimes the best way to live it is to stop worrying about who is watching and simply swing as high as you can.
Loudly. Jubilantly. Completely.