The only limitations we have are those we put on ourselves.”– Pauline Linscott
There was this treehouse in the woods that became a focal point of our childhood. The tall tree stood in the middle of a small clearing. Jagged wooden planks were nailed to the trunk and led up to the house. This house was a small box with windows and a roughly cut door. There was even a small porch attached to the structure. It always seemed as though a small wind could take it away and yet there were at times five to eight of us in the house. At the age of eight I could stand inside easily, but as I aged and grew by the time I was twelve I had to bow my head. After having the structure for so long we personalized it. Over the door on the inside we inscribed our names in bold colors; Raymond, Emily, Lily and Paul. Some of our cousin’s names were written in small, dark colors. There was a sturdy small table in the middle of the tiny room where we sat holding meetings concerning our kingdom or hosted elaborate banquets. It was a place of imagination, it held magic. When you stood on the little porch it felt as though you were king of the world and yet so fragile it felt as though the house could topple at any moment and bring you down with it. Around the back of the house was a fence wrapped around trees. Many times my cousins would climb up this and invade the castle. This was a weak point during a siege. This was Linean, the kingdom of our childhoods. The place our stories ran rampant and our imaginations grew strong.
We discovered that the world we built could be whatever we wanted. A king was appointed and we each had our own niche. I owned the local inn and stables and enjoyed creating different rooms. We had big adventures. While fighting ogres and fending off hordes of giants we forged bonds and learned to work together. Having our own kingdom we were responsible for it’s upkeep. How it looked reflected our minds. We continued to expand, adding on more structures, each corresponding with people’s jobs. We learned to make tepees from wood and twine. Making it all with our hands. It became the kingdom of our dreams. Why am I telling you this? It was an important time in my life, and that of my siblings and cousins. All the times that we built and explored together we learned. Learned about what we could do. It was our world and from the adventures, I learned that we could build.
The only way to achieve the impossible is to believe it is possible.”– Alice Kingsleigh (Alice in Wonderland)
The fruition of dreams always starts small. When you were young you wished for turrets covered in ivy, stables full of horses, expansive gardens and the courtyard was teaming with knights in glistening armor. One day you were the princess, dressed in exquisite gowns and dancing the night away. The next you were a peasant girl, dreaming of the day she would leave the dirt and cold behind. You could be anyone you chose to be. However they all had one thing in common. They were dreamers of big dreams, wanters of wandering. Adventurers to the core. Why did the dreams stop? The dreams became a struggle. A burden. A regret of things that were not to be. Things lost because they never were. Sometimes we need to go back to how we were as children. Reach inside ourselves and bring the dreams back. But use them as dreams that can propel us forward, applying them to our lives. We can’t be afraid to reach the impossible.