What did you love to do when you were little?

I was about 10 years old when my father gave me my first journal.  It was a gift from his most recent trip to Argentina, his homeland. On previous trips, he’d brought home dulce de leche and alfajores (the Latin American equivalent of a Ding Dong) but this book, with the empty lined pages, was the sweetest present of all. “My own story,” I thought, just waiting to be written. 

I had no idea then that writing would save my life. That journal became my creative partner, my confidant, and, for years, the only safe place to put my feelings. It also sparked my desire to become a writer when I grew up, whenever that might be. Inside that flowery red book, I’d write stories and ideas and confessions. I’d sketch out scenes and draw pictures of eyes. There are heavily lidded and lashed lady eyes peering out of all sides of that book, which I still have and cherish. It reminds me of my childhood and what it was like to purely follow the muse.  

One of my favorite questions to ask clients and people I’ve just met is, “What did you love to do when you were little?” There are a couple reasons I ask. One is that I love to watch people’s faces search and then find That Thing in their memory banks. Their faces light up. Stories are shared. Ice breaks. The other reason is that suddenly, the connection to a childhood passion is suddenly not so far away anymore. 

I believe that the things we loved to do as kids are often clues to what’s missing in our lives as adults when we feel unfulfilled. And I don’t mean this literally, like if you loved collecting snails in the rain you should start doing that again immediately. More like, consider what it was about that activity that lit you up so much. Was it the feeling of rain on your eyelashes or the way your mother let you parade further down the block, or the way the snails moved in and out of their tiny homes? Was it what happened in your imagination? Whatever it was that gave you that feeling of love, that’s the thread to pull on. 

My writing practice has changed shape so many times over the years. Like any long term relationship, the intensity ebbs and flows, but the love of that flow I found when I was little is still there. And when I get the feeling that something is missing in my life, the first thing I do is grab a pen and crack open a fresh blank page. That’s my happy place.