A camping cot is not the safest of playpens, but that is what I’m using to contain my speedy and curious daughter this morning. Several weeks ago, I bought this cot in preparation for a long roadtrip campout I’m planning for the summer. I set it up in the living room to test it out, and it’s been there ever since.

Usually I lounge on it in the early morning while she plays with her toys, but this morning, she’s wanting to crawl anywhere but the places I want her to stay. So for fifteen minutes at least, she has been content playing on the cot, throwing toys off the side and occasionally hanging off an arm, testing out a dismount.  I’m typing close by, and can reach over to dadgrab her if needed.

I’ve setup an artificially limited miniaturization of the world to contain her.

Earlier she knew there was more to explore, but for a short period of time this new playplace has amused her. As she gets more comfortable though, it takes more interaction to keep her happy there. A new toy or moving the cot away from the TV stand is necessary. She is too active and won’t stay put forever on this little canvas island in the living room.

It is our instinctive nature to explore.  We can’t help it at 9 months old to want to see every corner of the house, taste every toy and cardboard box and tipped over trash can that exists. We just do, uninhibited and without fear, constantly.

At age 37 now, I can’t quite recall when the desire faded to be in constant adventure mode, somewhere along the way though it happened. At the end of many days I can look back and notice that I inched my way along, just ‘getting through’ each task at hand, till the clock shows midnight. I didn’t crawl and push and grab and laugh, in all-out discovery and examination each and every step of the way. Avoiding this kind of strenuous activity was probably a more accurate description.

Some days I dabble in exploration of self. I appreciate our weekly Bible study, for the spiritual insights and unlocking of mystery that can happen there. I use this blog platform and my graphic design work to express creativity to the blank page. I dive deeper and deeper into strange subjects in documentaries online, freaking myself out, about the very nature of this nation and world as we know it…

Overall though, my physical traversing is quite limited. After for several days of the week, I move barely a mile from where I woke up, over to my work, then back to home again.

I remember roughly a quote from life coach Steve Hardison, it was about the complexity and magnitude and awesomeness of the lives we have already led. He talked about how amazing we are as people, just creating the story of us, with all the trials and tests we’ve already experienced. Then he went on to illustrate that the entirety of what we know, is but a fraction of a square inch, painted into the tiny corner of a massively huge blank canvas.

There is lot more to left to explore.

I am glad to be reminded by my earnestly active little daughter, that we are innately driven toward discovery.  There is no shame in pushing limits. There is value in trying new things. We cannot regret our attempting, even when it fails. Eventually, we will only be sorry about those things that we didn’t try at all.

I hope I don’t find out someday, that there was no government agency, or no elite bloodline, or no illuminati, that kept me penned up and corralled on my own little canvas island in the middle of this expansive beautiful world. I hope I don’t find out that the only thing holding me back, from seeing and experiencing, is my own self-imposed mental prison. If that is the real truth, the one that seems to be the great mystery right in front of my face, then I pray I will have at least tested the rigidity of the seemingly steel bars all around.

I hope to know that I attempted to continue pushing limits some way, some how, each day… even when it sounds like anything but fun.

Until next week my friends, explore, discover and create a mess! It could be more than fun, it could be pure exhilaration!

Sincerely,

Aaron Nichols