Notes on Resolutions, Growing Up & Fun
Who the hell decreed that being an adult meant growing up and forgetting about fun?
Who would want to grow up?
Imagine if an adult had pulled you aside as a kid and told you that growing up was all about getting serious, worrying about things, being cranky a lot of the time. That it meant doing borrrrrring things aaaaaalot. And not doing fun things much.
Who would want to play that game?!
Remember when you were a kid and the world was one big mystery?
I grew up on a farm with two sisters. We’d spend large chunks of day exploring and making up secret worlds. Now when I go home to the farm, I glance over the land and see a paddock, or two. But back then a paddock was unchartered territory without boundaries or endings. The farm was an infinite land of fantasy, adventure and mystery.
There were dried up creek beds that contained gems of all descriptions. An entire day could be spent exploring and excavating for hidden treasures.
When it rained, little rivulets of rain spidered their way over the ground forming miniature rivers and tributaries. About the right size for a fairy village. We’d be dressed up in raincoats and gumboots (actually we wore those all year round) and spend countless hours making boats, bridges and homes for the faery people.
When we weren’t in the paddocks we’d be walking or riding horses through the bushland that bordered our farm. There was an old grey tree stump at the top of one of the hills that was definitely the Queen’s throne… Dad said it was crown land so we guessed the Queen would be around somewhere.
We’d make our way up there with a picnic packed by Mum and dine with the Queen… I don’t know about your parents but ours tried to instil good mealtime manners by saying that one day we might dine with the Queen, and what would she think of our bad manners… Well, between you and me, we did dine with the Queen… And we used our fingers, burped quite often and sometimes threw food… And she thought it was funny.
Fast forward a few (ok, more than a few) years to me sitting on the floor of my garage with my two sons, surrounded by flowers, pine branches, gum nuts, pinecones and rolls of ribbon and string…
On the spur of the moment I’d decided to book a stall at one of the local markets for Christmas… For my other business - Flowervore.
The boys were home on school holidays so I thought it might be a fun project for them. Indi and I were sitting making wreaths and Che was alternating between spooning soil into tea cups and running around us. He’d cut off a long bit of ribbon and was running around us singing at the top of his lungs and narrowly missing kicking us with each round.
Meanwhile I was running a mental inventory of everything that needed to be done to get ready for the market, and all the Christmas preparations I hadn’t done and tried not to think of the brothel that was the house.
In short, I was stressed, and very serious. On Che’s next round of almost kicking me I snapped and turned into cranky Mum…
“What are you doing? Did you use that string I bought for the wreaths? I’m trying to make us some money here. Calm down. Stop running around and help. Have you finished your job yet? We’re not doing this for fun you know…”
And there was more, but I think I’ve blocked it out.
I was a raving lunatic basically. A bonafide, authentic, pain in the arse killjoy... A Grown-Up. Oh dear, when did that happen?
Thankfully part of me was sitting akimbo on a toadstool somewhere watching, and taking note of the words coming out of my mouth… Particularly the doing it for money, not for fun bit.
And this finally brings me to my point... New Year's Resolutions.
For the past few weeks my partner (who is super goal oriented) has been asking me (daily) - what do I want? What are my goals for 2016?
Honestly, it's irritated me. I'm not even sure I like new year resolutions. I mean time is arbitrary isn't it? Is there really any profound difference between 11.59 on the 31st December and One past midnight on 1st January? Is there such a thing as time and space? And just because everyone's doing it, does that mean we all have to be lemmings?
Well, though I honestly do believe this is a worthy philosophical discussion. If I cut down to brass bones, what's really going on here is my feelings of intimidation towards getting clear about what I really DO want.
And the BIGGIE here is that I forgot that it can be FUN.
So, my goal for 2016 is... FUN! Sure I'll get more specific, but that will be the essence of every intention I play towards this year.
I'll remember those worlds that were created in a puddle on a rainy day. The precious gems that were uncovered on archeological digs in the back paddock. And picnics with the Queen in the bush.
I'll remember that there is no such thing as time and space, and therefore anything is possible, so why the hell not make it fun.
And if my kids want to know what being a grown up means, I'll tell them it's really fun because you get to make your own decisions. You get to decide what you want to do and go do it.
Happy 2016 to you. May it be filled with fiction, fantasy and impossible dreams that become the most tangible illusion you've ever had fun creating!
Leonie Orton is a writer, editor and marcomms consultant. She'll create communication mediums in the shape of words, graphics and webs for your business, connecting you with the people who need you. And due to a touch of adult ADHD she also teaches yoga, runs a floristry biz, holds a monthlyHarvest Swap, and her raison d'être... Mothers two amazing little humans. Get in touch byemail, facebook or subscribe to her weekly blog.