Log: Real Adults

As Brad puts it,

adults are just large children who have forgotten how to play

In being 'born again' and remembering how to play, I appear more childish than ever, but ironically that's a necessary part of the process of growing up, and I will presumably end up more mature than most people twice my physical age.

But I'm growing up among other children (who are even less nature than I, not even realising they are children). My parents are less mature than me.

Over the last few days I've been exchanging many emails with staff of the Foundation for A Course In Miracles. The words were largely practical, but I really felt their peace. They are real adults - more mature than I. In their presence I recognise my own child-like condition and the insincerity of almost all 'adults' I've ever met.

And it got to the point where I[1] had this feeling of approaching a precipice and starting to fall[2] into an ocean of 'loved'.

Real adults are loving. Regardless of physical age, anyone harboring unkind thoughts is a child.

  1. the insincere 'adult' in me ↩︎

  2. as a child ↩︎

Freyr LePage

autistic, nonbinary, white, middle class

United Kingdom