I saw the angel in the marble and
carved until I set him free.
As a youngster I had a vivid (spelled V-I-V-I-D) imagination!
For hours on end I could be a cowgirl upon a grand steed made of stick & twine, or a nurse at the bedside of many ill dolls. I could relish the conductor's role while being master over a friend's train set (there were no boys at our house, so this was always a special time of play).
My trike served as a bulldozer, a horse, a bus, or whatever else required a prop. Mother's laundry room made a fine castle tower, or a jail.
That same imagination served to spook me, too. If left alone in the house (with mother, dad or the sisters never too far away), I might hear strange noises ... bad guys coming to rob us or to wreck havoc. Sometimes I'd run to hide, often in the front coat closet. I'd tuck myself behind the longest of garments and then hold my breath lest anyone know I was there. At other times my hiding places were high in the apple tree, or beneath my bed.
A knock at the front door might send me scurrying one day, and joyfully curious as I peaked through Venetian blinds to glimpse the guest the next.
Whether on my own or among friends, imagination featured prominently in my childhood. It still does. My mind wanders over a myriad of matters. Likely you've seen that here.
Think left and think right and
think low and think high.
Oh, the thinks you can think up
if only you try!
What is it about the imagination that whisks us away from the mundane to the majestic? How can it be powerful enough to transport us from the safe to the dangerous, or from the real to the virtual? What makes it so vital to those of us who communicate, whether in speech of with pen (or keyboard)? How else might we see the unseen, or hear the inaudible. What other dynamic could produce symphonic melodies or poetic art? What other engine navigates new discoveries?
Or ... is there any other faculty that makes mountains out of molehills, or worry out of projection - - the same one that makes what is virtuous out to be vile? What other slight-of-mind tricks the mortal into choosing wrong over right?
You can't depend on your eyes
when your imagination is out of focus.
I don't really have answers today. I just know that the imagination is a fabulous gift - one that allows we mortals to live in a world vastly different from that of flora & fauna. With it comes great virtue, or vice; peace or perplexity ... depending on how it's exercised.
... whatever is true, whatever is noble,
whatever is right, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—
think about such things.
Though outwardly we are wasting away,
yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.
For our light and momentary troubles are
achieving for us an eternal glory that far
outweighs them all.
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,
but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary,
but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Some stories are true that never happened.