The Gifts of Our Childlike Wonder

Above the rooftops in Lisbon, Portugal

Days of Our Youth

As a kid who grew up in the ’90s, it wasn’t difficult to recognize the inherent message in the hit family movies that ruled the decade. With bright-minded children taking the lead in Matilda, Hook, The Little Rascals, and more, it seemed quite obvious to me that the recurring theme of those plots centered on the inspiring characteristics of a childlike presence. 

Even now, in my thirties, I still remember feeling empowered while watching those child actors boldly express their playful and carefree selves. It was hard not to root for them as they cleverly outwitted the controlling, irritable characters who took everything way too seriously—adults.

I marveled at the idea that children were the heroes of the day and not some iconic superhero dressed in tights. I appreciated the irony, for how could a child know any better than a fully grown, socially-conditioned adult?

But it didn’t take long for me to observe a striking difference in the demeanor of adults. All I knew then was that when I looked at them at such a young age, I had a certain sense that they had forgotten something important, something vital they used to know but forgot to cherish throughout their lives, like they had lost a special light behind their eyes.

Maybe they’re not entirely to blame. All kinds of life events can regrettably lead us to freeze our hearts in ways that seem irreversible. Does this happen to all of us?

As children, we could delight in the experience of absolute joy. We knew the world was big. We knew that we were small. But we also knew how to embrace it fully despite our lack of control.

So what changed over time? Is it at all possible to recall this childlike nature? Looking back, it seems more than likely, as I think about the unique encounters I’ve experienced with countless people who seemed to retain this childlike essence.

Whether they showed up in the form of encouraging teachers, amusing entertainers, or kind-hearted strangers, the glowing warmth of their energy inspires me to remember it all; to remember the days of our youth when we knew, by sheer instinct, how to take in all of the wonderful ways of simply being.

Appreciating the Small Things

For years, people talked about gratitude journals and how they help you stay positive. But sometimes I wonder—do we lose this instinct that enables us to notice the little things as we get older?

For children, nearly everything feels fresh—full of wonder and discovery. But what qualifies as “new,” really?

Are we not all, in some way, experiencing new moments every day? Are any two days of a single lifetime ever truly the exact same day? 

As we grow up, we’re taught manners—how to say “Thank you” and “You’re welcome.” But do we actually mean them anymore?

There was a time when I didn’t. In college, I worked in food service and realized my tone had become mechanical. I wasn’t rude—I just sounded… automatic.

At first, I resented the idea of forced positivity. But then it hit me: was it not possible to be genuine and strive to mean what I say?

If I didn’t want to sound phony, could I instead choose to be sincere? When I made that shift, something changed. My attitude softened, and my interactions became more genuine.

My decision to be intentional transformed my professional approach into one of sincere appreciation. It gave me new eyes and the ability to truly notice the people around me, the regular customers with all of their amusing stories, as well as the small acts of kindness I failed to see before.

I realized that my pursuit of living intentionally created a ritual of gratitude as well as an honest desire to do something good and helpful without expecting anything in return.

Enthusiasm for Life

Shakespeare once wrote, “What’s in a name?” As children, we learn to name things to understand the world. But in The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle writes:

“We look at a tree and we know it by its name, not its essence. We think, ‘What a beautiful oak tree,’ but we don’t feel its aliveness. Our awareness and experience stops with the words, ‘oak tree.'”

When we substitute names for experience, we stop truly seeing. Names serve a practical function, but they also distance us from the living, breathing reality before us.

In doing so, we lose something profound—our natural states of awe and enthusiasm.

I think it’s truly special to feel a part of something larger than ourselves. Because when we share our positive energy with others, it creates a ripple effect that lifts everyone around us.

We do this when we express awe; when we slow down to notice the beauty in nature, savor art, or enjoy a deep connection with others. This is the kind of enthusiasm that can radiate through any group, filling the space with warmth and joy.

Following Our Curiosity

As children, we used to wake up with an honest sensation of not knowing. We were acutely aware that we had zero idea of how the day was going to turn out and knew that we had no choice but to accept this uncertainty.

But even now, as adults, do we actually ever know how the day will unfold? We ruin our mornings when we try to predict the outcome with resistance and judgment.

But the power of our imaginations comes from a state of curiosity that only expands our minds all the greater. When we accept what we don’t know, we can play with a world of possibilities and ideas that we can see beyond.

This is where creativity and learning take place. To live is to learn, and we stop growing when we no longer carry an eager desire to become who we are meant to be.

When we refuse to learn how to use our gifts, we choose to stop living; we choose to merely exist. But we were always meant to evolve and expand without the fear of change.

Like children, we can learn to adore the thrill and mystery of this ever-changing adventure. As adults, we cling desperately to the idea of control, when in actuality, the world is unpredictable, and simply going to the same thoughts, conversations, and places is an elusive way to feel in control—you’re not, and never were.

But what we do have control over is our attitude and how we choose to handle this very moment. We can embrace the unknown, do something new, make art for someone, smile at whatever the outcome holds, and let it all go.

Unpacking the Journey

As a child, I used to wonder what it was that was keeping adults so preoccupied all of the time. But looking back now, I would equate their unsettling demeanor with someone who could not stop criticizing a movie they’re watching due to their delusional fears that the experience would never end.

Yet ultimately, our experience with this world does end. So why not enjoy it while it lasts?

This is why I’m here. 

I started Cherish and Jots to share my journey with you. Hopefully, we can unpack the tender, heartbreaking, and illuminating moments that define what it means to be alive—to create, explore, discover, observe, and cherish everything that comes beyond and between this ever-fascinating experience.