Conversing with ourselves…

i talk to myself more than a bit.  i think in words–often i ask and answer my own questions, recite directions,  or ramble off things I need to do.  my most constructive of chats are my class lectures which unfold in my car during a good chat with me, myself and i.

the last few days i’ve listened to my 3-year-old son chat very intently with himself and his friends–Spiderman, Buzz lightyear and several of his cars.  i enjoy his conversations they are awesome. his imagination incredible!   i suspect little children chatting with themselves brings more of a smile to observers than perhaps my chats.  more often than not I see worried look of confusion on the faces of those who happen to hear me.  why is that?

when we were kids so many things were awesome.  we could have a little buddha belly and it was loved, we ran, jumped, hopped and skipped for the joy of it! we ate milk and cookies and it was the best treat ever. mittens that made our hands toasty warm were the coolest thing every, a cape made us superman or superwoman and we shared and played with everyone.  in adulthood much of this awe is replaced by the sucking in of our belly, grinding it out in the gym, watching those cookie calories add up and whoops we gotta watch the lactose intolerance thing. but a good cape coat and a wicked pair of boots can still bring out the superwoman in me.

i’m working to embrace my inner kid a bit more. so i am going to keep talking to myself.  i like my conversations, they are pathway to my brain where my words and thoughts come crashing together and align…perhaps my imagination will be kickstarted.

anyone else asking and answering your own questions? go for it, be kid like.

next stop, jumping for joy.


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About ithinkinwords

i love common sense and innovation. the trails, mountains and oceans are magic. i run a little, have recently taken up mountain biking and find bliss in yoga. getting outside everyday and moving is a must! sometimes when i am driving i look into the rearview and think how did i get here? -- last time i looked i was 17 and crossing my fingers my VW had enough gas. well it got me here.

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