Category Archives: inner child

On Gratitude

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“How is it you are so happy all the time?” the old man asked the Child.

“I stay steady even as the things around me, and within me, change.”

“What do you mean?”

“This,” said the Child.  And as he spoke, the Child swirled the winter winds into his hands and tossed them back into the sky as spring.  Flowers bloomed over the grass, like a river of color, birds banked turns around them, bees hummed through the sweet, earth-scented air.  And as this all turned round them, the old man overheard the Child whispering, “Thank you,” to each and everything he saw, heard, and felt.  In a few moments, the Child cupped spring in his hands, shook it a little, cast it into the air where it descended around them, landing as summer.  Fresh fruit hung heavily from the trees, fish jumped in the pond, cicadas droned, hidden in the lush, swaying trees.  And as the old man and the Child spun around in the field, laughing, the Child paused, looked deep into the world and said, “Thank you.”  And just as the old man was thinking of lulling in the summer sun, the Child swished his hands into the sky and turned the air as if it were water.  With a flourish, the Child spun the air to a stop and when it did, gold and red leaves whirled everywhere, sheaves of corn leaned against doorways, the smell of mulled cider scented the clouds, a clean, brisk chill flowed through them.  And as the two raced about trying to catch the falling leaves, the old man heard the Child stop and say,“Thank you.”  Finally, the Child wound the air back up and turned it out back into the moment, where snow was falling, draping their shoulders.  The Child looked up into the sky, snowflakes kissing his face, and said, “Thank you.”  And after he did these things, he looked to the old man and asked, “Now do you see?”

“Yes,” said the old man, “the way to remain happy is to remain steady in gratefulness, no matter the season.”

“No matter the season, no matter the feeling, no matter the day, no matter the circumstances, no matter anything.  Happiness is not a feeling so much as a way of living.  And that way of living is to give thanks in all things.”

And with that the old man and the Child walked, hand in hand, towards the blossoming horizon.

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog

Loving Yourself, the Art of Positive Self-Talk

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Once upon a time an old man and the Holy Child sat in silence by the riverside.  After a while, the old man heard the Child talking to himself, or so it seemed.  As the old man leaned in closer to listen, these are the words he heard:

“You are beautiful.  I am so happy you were born.  I love you.  You are the perfect weaving of Sky and Earth, the keeper of holy fire and soothing water.  I want you to be happy, so I will sing this day, sing your praises, give thanks for the life you give me.  I am so grateful that you carry me with such grace and generosity.  I love you.  I appreciate you.  Now let’s go play.”

And then he was quiet again.  Tears were streaming down his face. 

Finally the old man spoke: “That was a beautiful prayer.”

“Thank you,” said the Child.

“You must love God very much.”

“I do, but those words were not spoken for God.”

“Then who were you talking to?”

“Myself,” said the Child, reaching down and cupping his hand into the cool water.

“Yourself?” said the old man surprised.

“Yes,” laughed the Child, “don’t you talk to yourself that way?”

“No,” replied the old man, staring at the flowing river, “never.”

“Now’s a good time to start,” said the Child, as he rose and took the old man by the hand, “never has ended.  The time to love yourself has come.”

 

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog

…And the Walls Came Tumblin’ Down: the Fine Art of Knowing When to Tear Down Walls and When to Build Them

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Inspired by a post by Dr. Jean Raffa (http://jeanraffa.wordpress.com/2011/09/16/the-secret-to-healing-relationships/) these thoughts about walls came out.

 

The idea of tearing down walls is sort of a paradox for me right now.  We all build walls, naturally and almost effortlessly when we are growing up– “normal” ego-development walls, that is.  But when you add to the mix childhood traumas, then walls became not only natural to build, but necessary, even welcome.  And as I am discovering, most of the walls have to come down in order for me to allow myself to be touched—heart and soul and mind–touched, and to touch others.  The work is slow, for the most part, brick by brick, chink by chink.  Other times, the walls crumble as fast and as dramatically as they must have in Jericho when we are suddenly and unexpectedly inspired or moved by another person or experience.  At times like these, many walls fall, revealing hidden gardens and treasures. 

Some walls remain, however, and I am learning to look at them as blessings—like the guard rails on a mountain or the walls of my house.  Sometimes I need the protective embrace of the earth transformed into brick and mortar.  Sometimes I sit atop the walls and watch.  Other times I lean against them and weep, knowing there is something on the other side, but I am too afraid to climb or even look.  Still other times I revel in the solitude behind the walls and write rivers of words; for paradise, after all, means “an enclosed garden,” and I am learning to be OK with me, and that hidden within the walls of my heart, is a safe place where my dreams are growing. 

I say all this to say, I am still learning which walls need to come down, which need to remain; which need to remain and yet be hopped over or dug under.  There are no easy answers, especially when walls start crumbling without any notice, when the earthquakes of healing wave through and I find myself standing in the light—the light of the wisdom and love of others.  I am learning to step through the wreckage and breathe.  The gardens are still there.  I needn’t fear losing them.  Indeed, they are easier to share once the walls come down. 

Other times walls go up without me realizing it, like I accidently hit the “shields-up” button on the Starship Enterprise…Luckily, I am open enough today to learn how to learn.  And for me, it is not just emotional or soul walls—it’s mental walls also—old ideas and paradigms need to come down too—like it’s OK to earn money trying to help others—doctors do that all the time, or that it’s OK to make money doing what you love. It has taken years for those walls to come down, but luckily they are coming down.

I am slowly learning that, while walls can be fascinating, and strangely refreshing to the touch with their ancient coldness; beautifully constructed with various marbles, schists, and granites, they are still walls—wailing walls, walls to protect, walls to divide, walls to hang paintings on, and walls to put windows and doors into.  It is a lot to sort out—which ones to tear down and which ones to leave, and when it’s OK to build them.  But the rewards of intimacy, of true connections, soul to soul, heart to heart, mind to mind that come from the meetings without walls, are so worth the effort and struggle to be free.

Thank you Dr. Jean, Lefty, Blaine, Mandy and the boys, and all of you, dear readers, who serve as Joshua’s lovely and beautiful horns.

 

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog

All Beginnings Begin at the End

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 Once upon a time a man wandered through a thick, dark forest.  He could barely see the road ahead, and he stumbled over gnarled roots and stones.  At certain times he realized he had been walking in circles when he tripped over a particularly obvious, yet small root that he kept telling himself he would step over the next time that he saw it.  And since he walked in circles he saw the root repeatedly.  Consequently, he fell repeatedly.

One day he went in a different direction.  He looked up and caught a glimpse of the sun through the web of the canopy, and began to follow that singularly radiant star.  After trudging uphill for a few miles he smiled to himself when it dawned on him that he hadn’t tripped over that pesky root.  The journey seemed a little lighter, especially because he could laugh at himself just enough to know that it was OK to make mistakes.  This idea struck him so happily that he made himself a little song about it:

 

“Kings and queens can never grow

Without mistakes to use as guides,

They help us know the way to go,

And gold within their heart resides.”

The fact that he had spontaneously referred to himself as a king struck another chord of joy within him and now suddenly beams of the sun shot through the trees so that with every step he took he felt as if he were on a stage in a grand spot light.  And instead of feeling nervous to be on stage, he felt like he could play, even dance.  And the dust particles danced.  And the branches of the trees waved and danced.  The birds caught up in song.  And the path itself turned golden.  And the roots from the trees lining the path were no longer obstacles to be avoided, but things to be marveled at and studied—for some of them looked like little bridges, others like monster’s arms frozen in the ground, others seemed like statues of snakes or dragons, or like sculptures of rivers.

“Indeed,” he thought to himself, “if God is King, then that makes me a Prince.  And good kings always want their princes to have the kingdom.”  And then he remembered the line: “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

And that was the end, and so the beginning began.

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog

Beginnings

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This blog began over forty years ago.  Of course, I didn’t know anything consciously about blogs when I was three, but what I did know is: I was a seeker.  I sought after truth, safety, acceptance, love.  And I sought through many avenues and passageways: religions, addictions, relationships, therapies, and many other places to hide.  I say, “hide,” because when one is lonely, hurt, abandoned, abused, there is a yearning to find something, someone, someplace in which to curl up in and hide–anything to fill the hole inside, anything to make it OK, anything to oddly enough keep things the same.  I sought through sordid places, made many mistakes and wrong turns. And after many years of searching and suffering, I had enough—I wanted a change—a new life. 

I embarked on a path in which I didn’t have to be alone anymore.  I didn’t have to hide anymore (unless I consciously chose to).  I didn’t have to be slave to my feelings and negative beliefs and paradigms.  This path brought friends, mentors, and spiritual brothers and sisters in suffering into my life.  And slowly I learned to let them in. 

Some in this fellowship studied and lived by the writings of Emmet Fox and the 12 Steps.  I dove into these teachings out of sheer hopelessness and ended up learning to swim and play (and yes, trudge) through them—constantly discovering ways to apply them to my life.  Today, there is hope.  I have a deep and meaningful conscious-contact with the Wonder Child.  I need never feel lonely again.  The way has opened and I walk hand-in-hand with my fellow seekers.  Creativity and intuition are part of my life now.  And so is joy—the deliciousness of being alive.

One of these seekers suggested I start this blog as a way of celebrating, processing, and sharing my journey in contacting the Wonder Child.  So here I am.  And here you are.  Everyone is welcome.  There is room for everyone.  For everyone has suffered.  Everyone carries shame and guilt.  Everyone carries pain and negative beliefs and self-talk.  And yes, everyone carries within them the Wonder Child.  Let’s embrace the feelings we need to embrace and move together towards our dreams, towards God, towards freedom–towards the Wonder Child.   

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog