During the summer, I caught a glimpse of a child walking on a large wind-swept beach. For a moment he reminded me when we too, perhaps, in our own childhood, may have walked through a landscape, larger than ourselves. And in some marvel of intuited insight, we suddenly became aware of what we were seeing–not only outwardly, but inwardly–within ourselves. A realization, somehow, that this inward world, this way of seeing is both who we are, and what we begin to know and express, that is our imagination–and our imagining.
As my happiness grows
the sunlight grows also . . .
- Jenny, Age 9
Often, when speaking with children in different classrooms, I ask them what they think the imagination is–and often, they respond in ways that both clarifies and deepens this realization–as did Chris, in the 6th grade, when he wrote: “It is natural and unexplainable at the same time. We are our imagination, and our imagination cannot exist without us.” And taking this insight one step further, Sharon wrote: “I can make it come out to the world by drawing it or writing or telling about it.”