my own private neverland
it doesn't hurt to dream.
around the saddest circumstances, james barrie discovers the stuff of which better places are made of. he contends that against the bitterness, the travails, the loneliness of this plane of existence, it remains possible to find that place in which all you have to do is believe, and everything is right again.
a place where boys never grow up. a place where fairies blow pixie dust in your face and you can fly. a place of dwelling for pirates, indians, cowboys, dancing bears, and children of all ages.
in a world of deadlines, competition, paychecks, sex, drugs, intolerance, betrayals and other scandals, don't we all want to find a place where our dreams are as easy to find as air?
in james barrie's world, a failing marriage, plays that flopped and an inability to communicate his deepest, sharpest truth to an unwilling world didn't bring him down. he channeled these energies into a positive outlet to bring an enduring tale about a boy who never grew up.
in the real world, boys do grow up. there is that exact moment in between boyhood and manhood, oftentimes indiscernable, when a choice is made, and one assumes a mantle of responsibility, or perhaps takes down a road where there is no turning back to the innocence of duties not yet realized.
this is the boyhood we must all nurture within. when against all that must be done, we still recognize what we want. how to take responsibility for our actions without taking everything so personally that we fail to realize that some things are not to be taken seriously. how to approach life with joy, despite, and maybe, even because of all the sorrow.
this is my neverland. and unless you're michael jackson, i just might take you there someday.
around the saddest circumstances, james barrie discovers the stuff of which better places are made of. he contends that against the bitterness, the travails, the loneliness of this plane of existence, it remains possible to find that place in which all you have to do is believe, and everything is right again.
a place where boys never grow up. a place where fairies blow pixie dust in your face and you can fly. a place of dwelling for pirates, indians, cowboys, dancing bears, and children of all ages.
in a world of deadlines, competition, paychecks, sex, drugs, intolerance, betrayals and other scandals, don't we all want to find a place where our dreams are as easy to find as air?
in james barrie's world, a failing marriage, plays that flopped and an inability to communicate his deepest, sharpest truth to an unwilling world didn't bring him down. he channeled these energies into a positive outlet to bring an enduring tale about a boy who never grew up.
in the real world, boys do grow up. there is that exact moment in between boyhood and manhood, oftentimes indiscernable, when a choice is made, and one assumes a mantle of responsibility, or perhaps takes down a road where there is no turning back to the innocence of duties not yet realized.
this is the boyhood we must all nurture within. when against all that must be done, we still recognize what we want. how to take responsibility for our actions without taking everything so personally that we fail to realize that some things are not to be taken seriously. how to approach life with joy, despite, and maybe, even because of all the sorrow.
this is my neverland. and unless you're michael jackson, i just might take you there someday.
1 Comments:
i know your sentiments only too well. but in keeping with what i have in my mind nowadays i wanted to focus on boys. you know how it is. so i'm sorry if girls feel left out, but i wanted this piece exactly to be about boys who never grow up. i can't talk about girls at least as far as this piece is concerned simply because i don't know girls. i only know boys. those who do grow up and those who can't.
Post a Comment
<< Home