I recently came across a photo of a child, dressed as an astronaut, riding the bus, looking out the window. I smiled. I thought of possibility, wonder, and inspiration.

By this point in the new year, many of us have officially fallen off the wagon with any resolutions. There have been some studies on this, stating that around the thirty-or forty-something day mark, most of us resolution types chuck it all and revert to our old ways.

So, what do we do when the “new me” is not appearing to successfully surface? Berate ourselves as failures, incapable of making any kind of advances or improvements?

Do we double down on the punishment for our failed attempts?

Or do we try something different, something else? Do we reach back, interview, say, to our inner child for a bit and play proverbial astronaut?

When resolutions and unrealistic expectations fail, connecting with our child selves, with dreams in tow, can help us get closer to a fuller life.

The dream has a child attached to it.

When resolutions and goals go by the wayside, we still have our childlike selves to check in with. “Inner child work.” Yep.

Before you and I role our eyes too hard and too fast, just ponder how much the five, the eight-year-old, the teenage version of ourselves impacts our lives to this day.

Many of us have lost touch with that. But, if we dig deep enough, connection, and maybe even, fulfillment, is there awaiting us.

Okay, so fitness and lifestyle changes have not stuck. What sparks the child with excitement? We have all heard about how we should do the thing that had us fixated in childhood.

What did we want to be when we grew up? What was that?

We may not be dressed up as an astronaut on the bus, but what, emotionally or mentally are we dressed as? Even secretly as?

It’s not childish; it’s childlike. What if we gave legitimate credence to that?

The dream is simple, in theory.

Before we go nuts about idealizing childhood dreams, let’s do a little reality check. At face value, the dream appears simple. Magical thinking can convince us that it’s easy and fairytale. Simplicity, however, is just the start, even concerning a childhood, childlike dream.

Black and white, yes, but also shades of grey.

The challenge, the excitement, the joy, and, yes, the responsibility, are there for us, should we choose to embark upon the opportunity.

The child more readily embarks; it’s often in adulthood that we hesitate.

The dream requires solitude.

We will need to go it alone, face opposition, and pursue the dream with criticism, skepticism, and obstacles. Our childhood dreams don’t always automatically inspire support, encouragement, and enthusiasm. We may run into more critics than cheerleaders. The practical, the logical, the realistic perspective can surface, as we declare and endeavor to pursue less- stable pursuits like the arts, and even more specific creative and entertainment-focused pursuits.

“I want to be a clown,” for instance, probably won’t be greeted with cheers when the rent is due. To expect that unflinching support of our “outsiders,” even if they are loved ones, is to set us up for hurt and disappointment. “They” don’t “get” our “vision,” because it is ours, not theirs.

They aren’t invested deeply.

So, childhood dreams, contemplated and pursued, may be a lonely existence, at least, for a while, anyway.

The dream requires we look for it.

Look out the proverbial window. The sky. The atmosphere. The landscape. What do we see?

Beyond vision boards, it is about the picture.

How can we, in small or big ways, make that image seen for us?

Let’s go back to the clown for a second. Maybe it is not the case of being a world-famous clown, like Bozo. Maybe it’s entertaining one child who is sick, while we are wearing an orange wig.

The clichés are real: “Start small,” “Baby steps,” “Get started.”

And another one…

“What we focus on the most, becomes the biggest in our lives.”

Focus: the proverbial astronaut helmet, the proverbial orange clown wig, the proverbial oil painting, or novel.

How are we looking at what we focus on in life? And is it getting bigger?

The dream requires we honor it.

The image of the child astronaut on the bus is not tormented with recrimination about their choice to present themselves in life like this. There is no regret, no second-guessing, no guilt.

Simply being. Being the astronaut. Being present.

Not demanding any of the other passengers validate or notice.

The child honors, not judges, the astronaut dream. The child is not stressing over how, when, where it will be realized. There is no deadline or performance anxiety. The child is not thinking “Maybe this will fail, and I’ll be haunted by the failure for the rest of my life.”

We, the adults, seem to do that.

Look, dreams may or may not come true.

Luck. Chance. Opportunity. Circumstances. Timing. Effort.

Regardless, our dream, whatever it is, whatever the child deemed it to be, is important. Valuable. Our childhood dream is honorable.

If, for no other reason, than it is ours.

That, no matter how old and no matter who we are in life, is enough.

Copyright © 2022 by Sheryle Cruse