On approaching 40, my pretend rocket ship, and my 7 year-old self-improvement coach
Watching my kids grow up has been an experience truly unlike any other. And I’m not referring to how fast time flies, and how quickly they grow, and all those old clichés. That all happens, yes, but what’s really gotten me is how much of their growing up is bringing back my own memories of growing up.
And beyond that, I’m being reminded of all sorts of differences between child me and grown-up me. They’re sneaky differences — differences that seemed to have established themselves some time between when I was 8 and 38. I can’t pinpoint exactly when they happened, or how they happened. But somehow, I’m on the other side of some allegorical river. I’m a grown-up — somehow.
Nouns and Verbs
In many ways, I don’t feel different than I did when I was 8 years old. It’s as if the world just got bigger, but I didn’t change much.
But I know that’s not true. I know I’ve changed. I don’t like the toys and TV shows I used to like. I don’t get excited about playing Red Rover and Cops and Robbers with neighborhood kids. I don’t have trouble falling asleep on Christmas Eve — running through all the possible presents Santa might have left me. I don’t pretend I’m about to take off in a rocket going to space when I’m in my bed at night.
What seems to have happened as I’ve grown up is that all the nouns of my life have changed, but the verbs haven’t.
I still have the same feelings I did as a kid. I feel the same sense of wonder and excitement about launching a new website or newsletter now as I did about going into the forest in a tent at dusk when I was 8. I may not imagine that I’m in a rocket going into space when I go to bed at night. But that same faculty of imagination — producing ideas every bit as crazy as a rocket-ship bed — is still at work in a boardroom with a whiteboard.
Again, the nouns have changed, but the verbs haven’t. I’m still all about getting involved with things that energize me and revive and sustain a sense of wonder in me. I’m still all about engaging with my imagination, and asking what if? a lot — a whole lot. I’m about being 38, and a responsible husband, father, and team member, but I’m still all about opening up to things like I’m 3rd grade.
Never go FULL Grown-up
In my estimation, I’m lucky to be in that mindset. I interact regularly with many people who don’t seem to be. When it came time to “grow up”, they fully grew up. They took on all the responsibilities and social norms that adulthood seems to demand. And for some reason, doing that seems to come easier if we also shed all the great quirks and qualities we had as children.
But to riff on a somewhat controversial movie line, you never go full grown-up. When you do, you lose so much more than you gain. You lose the joy in small, simple things. You lose the ability to hang out in the moment, to stop asking what kind of results or progress you can squeeze out of everything, and just sit and wait for a little while. You lose the appetite for wandering and wondering. You lose the the ability to unabashedly pretend for a while, abandoning your sense of self — which I’ve found to be mostly illusory anyway.
I’m happy to have grown up. I’m not sad that I’m almost 40. But I deeply admire 8 year-old me. For all of his mistakes, for all his skinned knees and his lack of worldly intelligence, he had a lot going for him. He was wide open to the world and full of wonder.
Channeling the 8 Year-old Me
On my best days, I try as much as possible to channel 8 year-old me. I try to channel his imagination, his willingness to buy in to anything at least once, his lack of ego and bravado. I don’t always get it right, but when my 7 year-old daughter belly-laughs at me and I see that look in her eyes, it’s a sign that I’m on the right track. God, I love that sound.
The thing is, honing that ability to channel my 8-year old self is about more than just feeling better. I also helps others feel better. And whenever and where ever you can make other people feel better — you’ll be more successful at whatever it is you’re trying to get done.
As unlikely as it seemed to me, kids can teach us an awful lot about self-improvement. But I guess that shouldn’t be surprising, since it’s literally their primary job.
So here’s to channeling your inner 8 year-old, skinned knees and all. May you forever throw yourself into wondering and wandering. Grown-up life — whatever that actually is — can wait.