Did you ever notice that when you have children or are around children, it’s easy to believe in magical things like fairies or bears that speak? Watching a Disney film can awaken the child in us to believe in the unseen. If you are a Disney movie fan, as I am, you can relate to believing that Belle is who she says she is and the Beast is really a prince who had a spell cast upon him by an old beggar woman. You get lost in the magic.

As we get older and take on responsibilities, life becomes so serious. We have to act mature and put the child in us to sleep forever.

Some of us might feel that acting childish or displaying silliness around adults shows weakness, but it doesn’t. It shows how strong we are to share that inner child with the world – the beautiful innocence that we got so far away from. It’s you believing in things you wish to happen instead of the reality around you. And that creates magic.

When my daughter was young, I let my inner child come out. It felt so good, too! Then, as she got into her teenage years, she made fun of my silliness instead of enjoying it as she did as a child. Life, peers, and other influences get mixed, and we become jaded and have no time to believe in the unseen anymore.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve created stories with silly or mean characters, and I believed each one was real in my head. The first story I created when I was around six or seven years old was called Eight Bunnies and Three Beagles, a cute story about a family of bunnies who meet, you guessed it, three traveling beagles. One of the bunnies is named Stanley, who has Superman-like powers, and his sister, Penelope, was born with purple fur and constantly tried to dye it to look like the other rabbits, unsuccessfully.

Children believe in stories because they know how to use their imagination, and like Willie Wonka sang in “Pure Imagination:”

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Want to change the world?
There’s nothing to it

There is no life I know
To compare with pure imagination
Living there, you’ll be free
If you truly wish to be

Believing is using your imagination to conjure up what you want – what makes you happy.

Children know this secret, and most of them are happy because of it. Did you ever notice how a child could get hurt and someone shows them a cute teddy bear and puts a funny voice to it, and the child’s tears stop, and they smile? Try doing that to an adult. Many of us would tell that person to get lost! But children can use imagination and believe in magical things that let them see other ways of getting along with life.

How many little children complain? Do they? They might whine and have tantrums, but do they complain like adults do? It is because, as adults, we have choices, and if we don’t choose the right thing that is good for us, we allow it to affect our happiness. I know that I tend to revert to that childlike mind with my parents and feel like I don’t have a choice and do what they ask of me. Then, I regretted doing it and got angry at them for asking me to do it in the first place. But I’m an adult now, I can choose.

Or – is it that I’m an adult now and need to believe the way I did as a child, where anything is possible, and I can be, do, or have anything I want? Seems to me that I just need to believe.

If we take lessons from how a child thinks, life can become quite simple.

If we believe that we’re important – that our needs, hopes, and dreams are important, and we do action that supports those beliefs – life can be incredible. We need to tap into that belief mindset and believe again.

It’s easy to do. Keep thinking about the things you want and who you believed you were as a child, and focus on those thoughts. Have laser vision like a child does when they want something. They don’t think about anything else. Be that. Do that. And believe.

Merry Christmas, and I hope this gave you something good to think about. Life is meant to live. Believe in yourself, your dreams, and your happiness. Thank you very much for reading this.

To Believing,

Francesca