I recently worked with a poet who was born in Nigeria.
He was telling me about his love of African rainstorms, when, as a child he would take off all his clothes to jump in the streams and play in the puddles.
Being from the Pacific Northwest, I loved his description and could relate to the puddles and rain.
When we're young, we find immeasurable enchantment in simple moments.
Unadulterated and uninhibited joy!
Delight is experienced amidst our everyday, ordinary ambitions, like jumping in puddles.
What happens as we grow older?
What tricks us into giving up delight in the moment in order to possess the moment?
Adult ambitions can be very light on delight, weighed down with achievement and acquisition, attaching our identity to our accomplishments.
In her essay, 'What's A Heaven For?', writer Erin McGraw reflects, "Ambition carries us into terrible places. I don't understand why it has such a good reputation."
I wonder if ambition's good reputation recalls a time when we set our sights on things that were good, pure, lovely and honorable.
Sometime, somehow, we stop thinking on these things and attach our identity to our measurable accomplishments.
Comparing ourselves to ourselves to elevate ourselves.
Is it here that we lose the passion to throw off the clothes that hold us back from embracing uninhibited joy?
In the Pacific Northwest we are entering the rainy season and I'm thinking about ambition.
Those rain-filled puddles reflect a new depth of meaning.
Where do my ambitions take me?
To jump in puddles or conquer the rain?
Play or be played.