"Wonder shining in my eyes like I'm three years old"
On original wishes and their inevitable complications
I was struck by the words “I wish” when I saw Into the Woods recently.
Kelsey and I went to TPAC (Tennessee Performing Arts Center) with our dear friend Janie to celebrate all three of our May birthdays by watching our favorite musical, laughing a whole bunch, and crying almost as much. A Sondheim mash-up of the Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, Cinderella, Rapunzel and more, Into the Woods is a quintessential fairy tale. In fact, you could say its aim is to capture the essence of the fairy tale genre as a whole.
Fairy tales revolve first and foremost around human desire. The Disney shorthand for this is “wishing upon a star.” The desire that is the subject of fairy tales often begins in the simplicity and innocence of childhood, planted in the rich soil of wonder. Over time, however, we all experience the complication and degradation of our pure, original wishes. We have to bargain with the world to keep our wishes alive, capitalize on them perhaps, or bury them deep underground and promise that we’ll return at a safer time. And fairy tales come alive when they follow these complicating forces all the way through the darkness and (hopefully, depending on the story) out the other side, back into the light.
Without spoiling any of Into the Woods for you, Sondheim’s tale charts the many permutations of each character’s original wish, all of which end up in a tight, unyielding knot that cannot be untied with more wishes (like the old genie joke). Instead, the characters must band together with newfound maturity, each sacrificing something in order to restore peace to their lives.
I am someone who regularly remembers certain pure, “original wish” memories from my childhood. When I was very small (two? three? I’ll have to ask my parents), I was obsessed with a cassette tape of The Little Engine That Could. There was a scene at the climax that terrified me: after a long journey in a brutal blizzard, the Little Engine is caught in an avalanche, and for a moment, all seems to be lost. Then, just when my tiny heart loses hope, the Little Engine wakes up and finishes the journey. I remember the joy and relief of that moment, and in hindsight I can see that it was something like the seed of an “original wish” for happy endings to be true.
Speaking of woods, in the first grade, my teacher would sometimes take our class for a walk outside, past the playground, and into a clearing in the trees where we cupped our hands in a creek to catch crawdads. On our way there and back, we would pass honeysuckle bushes. To this day, every time I smell honeysuckle, my heart is pierced with the wonder I felt as a boy when my teacher told me I could pick these amazing flowers and suck on them like they were candy. Again, there’s that pang of an “original wish”—for what? Beauty, delight, unadulterated joy? I don’t know. But I cannot smell honeysuckle without that accompanying emotion.
I hope you can remember a moment like that as well, however differently it may have manifested for you. The crucial thing about childhood is that A) these moments are everywhere and B) they are not “spectacular” by any means. In fact, for me, many of my childhood memories most charged with wonder are incredibly mundane—the smell of pavement after a good rain, the sound of wind chimes at my grandparents’ house, even the excitement of spotting a snail on the sidewalk.
I’m embarrassed that I’m so bad at remembering my life. Ever since adolescence, I’ve been unrelentingly future-focused. It’s that classic feeling of your 9th grade self being mortified by your 8th grade self, and then your 10th grade self being mortified by your 9th grade self, until now, when, if I find a memory humiliating enough, I can easily be mortified by who I was at any age! My reaction to this horror has always been to press ahead: write that better song, do a better job next time, acquire more confidence and competence.
But all the while, I’m haunted by the child I carry inside me. The silliest kid you’d ever seen, learning NSYNC dances and talking in funny voices and doing front flips off the diving board…and the scared kid, the rule-follower, the quiet, thoughtful one who hoped so deeply that what he had to give would be accepted and worthy.
I’m grateful to have friends and family who remember better than I do. And I’m hoping that I can honor those “original wishes” as they peek out to say hello throughout my days. We adults love to talk about how much we pine for the lost wonder and magic of childhood. Maybe it never left us. Maybe it’s waiting in the honeysuckle, that enthralling movie you just watched, or the story that won’t let go of your imagination long after you’ve put the book back on the shelf.
I invite you to remember and I invite you to keep your eyes peeled. Even through all the complexities of adulthood, those wishes that make us who we are need only for us to acknowledge their presence, and they will make themselves known to us.
From something in nothing
A voice in the air
A face in the doorway
In wordless prayer
Well, I’m heart and soul, boys
Heart and soul
Wonder shining in my eyes
Like I’m three years old
Not dead, only sleeping
Adrift on the sea
The start of the river
The end of me
Well, I’m heart and soul, boys
Heart and soul
Glory shining in my eyes
Like I’m three years old
Where truth ain’t resented
Where love ain’t despised
Or misrepresented
Or sanitized
Well, I’m heart and soul, boys
Heart and soul
Wonder shining in my eyes
Like I’m three years old
And if I die tonight
To ask for more would be obscene
Surely we’ve earned the right
To drink it pure, break it clean
That curls in the bracken
That swirls in the dust
That cries to awaken
This wanderlust
Well, I’m heart and soul, boys
Heart and soul
Glory shining in my eyes
Like I’m three years old
Thank you for sharing! For me, it's pineapple instead of honeysuckle. I was 5 or 6 when I first tasted fresh pineapple and I remember how wonderful it was. Every time I eat it now, it takes me back.
Your reflection here touches on a lot of things I've been thinking about recently. I've come to believe the more I cultivate a heart of wonder and seek moments of wonder, the more I will discover a little more of my true self.
Loved this!