J Ann Crowder
A deep, reflecting type poem. A story of a mediocre life, fitting perfectly into the boxes we were taught to fit into. We think this is reality, or most realistic. However, our mind has no limits. If we believe the life and magic in our minds can be real, it will. Most inventors were laughed at, because their imaginations allowed them to think outside the box. If what we can imagine can turn into something tangible and real, perhaps we are most alive and real when we are living within our imagination. “Believing is seeing.” Literally! I have always been fascinated with seeing the world through the eye of our imagination rather than using the realistic and mundane to rule our lives. The imagination is therefore more realistic. Art, invention, dance, tapestry, world, galaxy, all inhabit infinite space. How fascinating not to confine ourselves to a box, limitations, and a mere adherence to the mundane belief that those who imagine with a broader stoke of color are the insane ones. Reality is this: the box is the thing that is imagined, not the imagination itself.