“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.”- Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten: Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things.

I was at dinner the other night with one of my college girlfriends when I asked, “is this where you thought you’d be by now?” Coming from a girl that had just locked her own keys in to her car the second time that month (shout out to AAA), I think I was asking more out of desperation than anything else. Hoping that there was someone to commiserate with my own feelings of uncertainty that’s hovered close by throughout most of my mid-twenties.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved my mid-twenties.

I’ve loved the work that I do, the friends that I have and a majority of the time, how I spend my time. But as of late I’ve been feeling a little undone. A little misunderstood. A little wiggly and loose.

Maybe it’s just this season; this summer wedding season.

It seems like the older you get, the more of your summer weekends are spent celebrating more and more friends and family pairing up, which is good and right and lovely. But for those of us that haven’t quite found our person, it leaves us feeling a little like a buoy floating weightlessly.

This isn’t an argument for doling out more of the coveted “plus ones” for your single friends at your wedding, (A lengthy title in the running for my future autobiography.) Rather, it’s a reason for some introspection. Why, during this season of my life, am I feeling a little “off”? A little insecure or unfulfilled?

I was reading an article in Darling Magazine by Natalie Warther where she suggests during our “moments of insecurity, it can be fun to touch base with your inner child and ask her what she thinks.” Children inherently “possess a special kind of contagious optimism that carries them through their small lives. They are blissfully unfazed by the opinions of others…they continue to try new things and peak out through the world through a lens of joy. Their hearts are bigger, their blues are bluer, and their afternoons are longer. Can you remember how good it felt to be that full of wonder?”

I LOVE THIS.

I love the truth and honesty of kids. I love their fearless attitude and unrelenting spirits. I love that they rest when they need to (who doesn’t love a good nap), ask for help when they can’t do something alone, and are unabashed when admitting their own strengths and talents.

This article reminded me of one of my dad’s favorite books: “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten: Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things.” For a man that just turned 57, I’m delighted that he still loves sharing the importance of all the lessons we learned in Kindergarten, as spelled out in Robert Fulghum’s book:

1. Share everything.
2. Play fair.
3. Don’t hit people.
4. Put things back where you found them.
5. CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS.
6. Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
7. Say you’re SORRY when you HURT somebody.
8. Wash your hands before you eat.
9. Flush.
10. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
11.  Live a balanced life – learn some and drink some and draw some and paint some and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.
12. Take a nap every afternoon.
13. When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
14. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
15. Goldfish and hamster and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup – they all die. So do we.
16.  And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first worked you learned – the biggest word of all – LOOK.”

A few favorites I’m glad to be reminded of: Say you’re Sorry when you Hurt someone; Live a balanced life; and When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.

While we can’t stay five forever, and I’m certainly no Benjamin Button, during this season of mid twenties I’m going to try asking myself a little more often “what would my inner child say?” and hope for a little more wonder and whimsy.