Wisdom of Ages

I suppose it  makes sense that a lack of oxygen would dull your senses, but as a child with asthma, the only thing that I knew was droll. Never much to play, never much to perform, never much to notice at all, but when you wanted me I was always there, smiling in my oxygen deprived reality. I used to sit in trees a lot. My mother tells the story how I hid away in the branches of our backyard tree, but in my mind I was sitting there, grateful for the chance to climb above the struggle of moving over ground. Happy to sit there in my happiness to breathe. I'm still somebody that finds happiness in small things. I get captivated by beauty, and I'm easily enthralled. I have a deep appreciation of the growth and development that is possible if you can get over the struggle to take a deep breath and just do it, and I still to this day hate people that don't. Though hate is an emotion I only had to confront much later in my life... To me, making the most of it is not only a way t

To this day I still cannot remember much from my childhood. Memory being what it is, that could either mean that it was uneventful boring, uneventful horrific, or uneventful happy. Uneventful boring would either have meant that I had some kind of childhood malaise that prevented me from exploring the world like my body was designed, or my environment gave me so little to explore that my mind found muchness in things that amuse it, because that is the way it was designed to do. Our environment abound to fascinate and enthrall, to captivate in natures radiant beauty and blind us in awe of existence. I can understand that in some children the beauty in nature can be the allure to lead them wandering off into the sunset, following the promise of a dream that's better than the one we left behind. According to the elder in my care I was a dreamer, staring off to space and making never-ever journeys to never-never land, and though it sounds like kinda fun to leave it just like that,