Voices of the Inner Child
"Jewel by the Fire":
"Small is good. My powers are able to slip right through the cracks." ~ max: Where the Wild Things Are
Max
"Crouching in front of a steadily burning fire, a youth-like body covered in a dirt-spattered one piece suit of royal pajamas stares intently at something in his hands. He turns it over and over in his hands, as if trying to unlock the secrets of the universe—or perhaps even some candy. A floppy golden crown adorns his head and a stitched tail coils around his feet, twitching restlessly—speaking volumes more than the tongue within his mouth. Crickets and life seethe in the woods around us, the scent of pine and cedar draw me to the warmth of the fire, for it is crisp in the depths of the forest.
Maurice Sendak
~ W.B. Yeats"Who will go drive with Fergus now,
And pierce the deep wood's woven shade,
And dance upon the level shore?
Young man, lift up your russet brow,
And lift your tender eyelids, main,
And brood on hopes and fear no more.
And no more turn aside and brood
Upon love's bitter mystery;
For Fergus rules the brazen cars,
And rules the shadows of the wood,
And the white breasts of the dim sea
And all dishevelled wandering stars."
Suddenly, emerald eyes stare up at me and lock in a vibrant stare. A skeptical and inquisitive look peers over hands and fire, seeming to ask my business. Why am I intruding upon his musings? I break his gaze, so haughty and cold in such a young round face. I look at a sparkle in his paws, mittens covering a jewel. When he sees my eyes upon his sparkle, he folds himself over this treasure—snuffing out the light within the jewel.
'I'm trying to find my children, my inner child,' I ask the visage in front of me and on the other side of the fire.
A snort, perhaps a sneer is my response. Eyes look down at hands, but nothing is revealed within.
Without thinking, an inspiration comes from within me—maybe even from above. I try to put myself in this child-king's head, as if to give him access to a wise voice—that which guides me. I let him know what I was trying because I suspect he would be aware of any tricks. This combination of voice and mentoring spoke in pictures. I saw in our minds the two of us holding his diamond up to the light of the fire. Realization flared in his eyes as he unfolded his hands and displayed the diamond to the world.
The night's darkness cracked open, birthing sparkles and radiance in front of this gasping child. A wind picked up, feeding the fire and elongating the shadows dancing about us. The cascading succession of light and dark upon his face made me see other figures crouched holding a jewel.
A tribal boy with a top-knot and loin-cloth.
A shivering, pale boy with clawed hands and hunched shoulders.
This reverie was broken as a laugh erupted forth from the painted whiskers before me. Mercurial eyes, emerald and gold, seemed to smile as he scampered off into the night. I felt in my head that I should enjoy what's left of the fire and feel gratitude for helping him out with his toy.
Chuckling to myself, I sat back down in front of the fire and closed my eyes. I could still see the refraction of light and feel the weight of the jewel in my own hands."