About 10 or so years ago on a visit home, I came across an old picture of myself. In the picture, I am about 5 or 6 years old. I remember the night it was taken very well. My family and I had gone to an amusement park for New Years. I was freezing cold and my grandmother had promised me that when we got home, she would make me chili. In the photograph I had fallen asleep waiting for my chili to cool off. Mema, my grandmother, made the best chili in the world during the winter time, and because our winters were always very mild in Florida, I rarely had the opportunity to have that chili. I was so happy in that moment.
When I reflect on my childhood, I am blessed to recognize that there was no abuse, neglect or lack of any sort. But I did have my own personal challenges, certainly not out of the norm for a kid growing up in the material eighties. I played with He-Man (Wanted to be him actually), I also played with Strawberry Shortcake (that never went over so well with the other boys) and I always wanted to be famous. Not really sure why. I certainly didn't know why then. In fact, I was quite shy growing up and would hide behind my mom in social gatherings or run off with my aunt (she was like a sister to me, and was also very shy) when strangers came over to visit. I was the kid in school that was totally content with himself, I never had many friends because I felt like they would always disappoint me by not appreciating me for who I was. The minute they questioned why I didn't like football and would rather play house, they were out of the game. I didn't like to be questioned. The problem was, they would turn on me and go tell the other kids that I was "weird" because I wanted to play house with strawberry shortcake! Then of course, the other kids would then side with the "normal" guy and I was back at square one. Friends were way too much work for me and as an only child, I had plenty of experience making happiness dependant on no one but myself.
As I turned 8 or 9, just a few years after the photograph mentioned above, I started to get hefty, and as a boy begins to mature into being a fat teenager, life starts to look... not so much like a star, and more like a road mechanic. To escape the depressing reality I was living, I turned to my dreams and my fantasies. In those fantasies, I looked muscular and sexy like He-Man. I was a star like Madonna and I sang and danced like Fred Astaire in Easter Parade. Something about my dreams was so real to me. I always felt so certain in these visions that I began to live my life impatiently waiting for them to manifest. In that impatience, I felt little remorse for myself or others who got on my nerves. I just knew my glory days would come and getting through the present moments painful truth was made so much easier by looking ahead.
Everything happens for a reason. I am thankful that I had the coping skills to be so resilient as a kid.
When I found the photograph, I brought it back to NYC and placed it in a beautiful silver frame. I began to just stare at the image lovingly and fondly. Then I started talking to it. I looked at that little boy in that photograph and I promised him that no matter what lies ahead in his following few years, his life will be so blessed with incredible people and an incredible career. I assured him that he would not be overweight his whole life, that one day all that playing house would come in handy and that there are millions of other boys and girls like him. I encouraged him to get out of his shell and not be such a pushover too. I gave him the advice I wish someone else would have given me... or maybe someone had.
This afternoon, my partner and I stumbled across the film adaptation of the book "The Time Travelers Wife" in our HBO on demand cue. Ted had read the book many years ago and always counted it as one of his favorites. I never got around to reading it, and when the movie came out we never saw it because it got such horrible reviews. Most likely it was plagued with that ole "it will never live up to the book" adage. It was a blessing I never read the book, because the movie touched me in incredible ways. It got me thinking... or dreaming... or fantasizing...
When I was a kid I used to have imaginary friends. What kids doesn't, right? Mine were so real to me. I used to talk to them, save them a place at the dinner table. I would even bring them blankets to my tree house when it got cold outside. After watching The Time Travelers Wife today, I began to think; What if my imaginary friends were not imaginary at all, but future versions of myself going back to inspire a younger "me" to live and dream in the impossible, forever. To never give up.
Impossible? Maybe ... maybe not. We will learn in the coming years that this reality that we are experiencing is not all "there". We will learn that time, space, and motion are all figments of our imagination and in the endless quantum world we actually can time travel. Not in the physical limited idea we have of it, but through consciousness. By going back in time perhaps we can correct our present and prepare for our future. Imagine if you knew that forgiving that one person who you hold such a grudge against from your childhood could impact your life now in quantum ways.. Imagine Forgiving yourself for not meeting such high demands you placed on yourself.
How differently would you live your life now?
Imagine that a future version of you is trying to tell you that everything is going to be more than fine. That the challenge that you are dealing with now will make you a successful and/or inspiring person of the future. What if your challenge that you are facing now is merely a means to tell a great story to a child one day that will save his life? How differently would you deal with the present.
Are you listening to that future version of you?
