The Inner Child


We all have one. Somewhere inside of us is stored the memory of each of the moments of our existence, and that includes the memories of our childhood. I know there are many individuals who say they can’t remember much of that time period in their lives. That may or may not be for very good reasons. We do block memories that create emotional pain and stress. It’s easier to get on with the present moment if we don’t have to drag all of that around with us.

However, those moments are connective links that will and do enhance the intuitive skills and abilities. The more we know and understand our own person, the more apt we are to understand and empathize with those around us, and the more we are capable of making wise and healthy choices for whatever time remains to us.

Many people are satisfied to simply shrug their shoulders and say, “But, that’s the way it has always been.” I am not one of those. I want to know how some things came to be the way they are, and more importantly, if they can be changed for the better. And, as usual, that begins with me.

The whole concept of an Inner Child, immediately intrigued me when I first came upon it over thirty years ago. It also scared the pants off of me. I, on the one hand, wanted very much to see what my own Inner Child might look like, but was terrified to let that happen because I knew ‘intuitively’ that I had been negligent in that arena and that my Inner Child was more than likely really pissed at me for that reality. Who wants or needs all that guilt?

So, for a long time, I paid lip service to the idea of an Inner Child, but made no move to do anything in particular about it. Funny thing is, at the same time, I was deeply involved in exploring my own creative energies. Guess where those energies originate? If you said, “within your Inner Child,” you would be absolutely correct.

If one were to ask me how I avoided that issue, the list would probably begin with something like this: 1. I have four kids to deal with everyday, I don’t want or need another one. Wrong headed? Right. It finally occurred to me that being in touch with my own Inner Child might really help me deal with those other four realities of my existence. It all takes time and I can be a really slow learner when I choose to be.

Eventually, the day dawned when I knew I couldn’t make any more excuses. I got quiet and tentatively asked if I might meet my own Inner Child. I had already established my secret place, that inner space I called my secret garden. It seemed only natural to invite her into that place. What arrogance. That secret garden was her creation.

And I was right, she was really pissed. I could see her quite clearly but she adamantly refused to speak to me. She was about eight or nine, a scruffy, scrawny little tom-boy in dirty jeans and t-shirt with a sloppy ponytail and curly frizz that had escaped the red rubber band that held it mostly in place and out of her face. But there was more.

She had two big blocks of wood tied on her thin bony shoulders. That didn’t allow her to move her head with any amount of ease, no matter how much she tried. I was puzzled and still scared. But I also knew that she was perhaps the most important piece of the puzzle that was and is me. This called for a great deal of patience, but eventually, after a number of apologies on my part for the lateness of my arrival, she relented and at least told me her name: Beth. And by the way, the name Beth means God’s abode, the house that God inhabits.

We did begin a dialogue. She told me some of the specifics about what angered her concerning my person. I asked if I could help her remove those ugly wooden blocks and she allowed me to do so. Then I asked her what she needed from me. Believe me, I was holding my breath when I asked that question. Her answer really surprised me. She told me she just wanted me to sit still for a few moments and watch her do her thing.

So, I got very quiet and watched, not knowing what to expect. Suddenly, I could hear soft wonderful music, only realizing later that it came from her as she began to move unencumbered through the grass and trees of that very secret place. She danced. I could say that she was like a butterfly, or maybe a small wee fairy, but she was so much more, moving with a freedom and grace that took my breath away, left me crying softly. Because in her movements I could see and feel bits of her story. My story. And oh, how much I needed her.

That is how I came to know my Inner Child. I will never forget that afternoon or how it made me feel. How grateful I was and still am that I took the time to get to know her. How much she has shown and taught me in all of the years since then. She is a well of wisdom that never runs dry. She is a constant inspiration, a true friend that doesn’t run away when things get foggy, or unclear.

She carries so many pieces of the puzzle that is me. And she shares them as I need them, often sighing happily when those pieces slide together smoothly and lock into place. Having recently moved back to the city of my birth, and begun the process of reintegrating with my family of origin, I need her more now than ever before. She helps me sort through the this of the present moment, and the that of the past, making it so much easier to understand what is happening now, and even how it might be changed or altered for the better.

Have you taken the time to get to know your Inner Child? If not, what are the reasons you have created to avoid doing so? Are they real reasons, applicable to your present moment, or are they convenient excuses? If you are here to read and learn about enhancing and developing your intuitive skills, do you think there is a better path to beginning that endeavor? What would that be and how would you go about doing it?


About 1sojournal

Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here:
This entry was posted in Personal Mythology, The Inner Child and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.