Quest of innocence and demons

Part 1: Journey into innocence

 

Today is not about becoming someone new. It is about meeting someone you have already been.

Find the earliest photograph you can of yourself as a child, the very first one if possible. Sit somewhere quiet and spend time with it. Do not rush and look carefully.

 

Who is there with you? What can you see behind you? What were you wearing? What expression did you have before you learned how to pose for photographs? Were you curious, solemn, mischievous, uncertain? Were you safe? Were you already somewhere else in your imagination?

 

Try to remember the world as it felt then. Not the factual reality of it, but the atmosphere. The sounds, the smells, the textures. The colour of the light in your bedroom or outside your window. The things that comforted you and the things that frightened you. The things you loved without embarrassment. Do not force the memories let them arrive organically, fragmented, jumbled or vague, that’s ok. 

 

Was there grass beneath your knees? Perhaps there was carpet against your face while the television gossiped and fizzed somewhere nearby. Could you smell chlorine, crayons, rain on concrete, books, dust, soap, soil, pencil shavings or washing powder? Perhaps there was a particular hour of the evening that felt endless and safe, did you fall asleep quickly or did you feel scared in the darkness? 

 

Once you have spent time with the photograph, choose a place that carries an echo of those feelings. It does not need to be the actual place; it only has to be the right location to remind your body of something older; a park; corner shop; a stairwell. A playground. A library. A patch of woods. A bedroom with gentle afternoon light falling into it. Somewhere ordinary that contains a trace of that earlier reality. Prepare to go there.

 

Before you leave, take something small with you. Something that your younger self would have liked or been comforted by. A sweet. A toy. A pebble. A flower. A drawing. A ribbon. A book. Keep it in your pocket as you travel.

 

As you make your way there, imagine you are accompanying that younger version of yourself rather than travelling alone. Walk at their pace. Notice what they would have noticed. Look upwards more often. Touch surfaces as you pass them. Stop when something catches your attention.

 

When you arrive, spend a little time exploring without purpose. Sit if you want to. Wander if you prefer. Let yourself feel foolish if foolishness comes. Children do not move through the world efficiently. Now find somewhere to pause.

 

Take out the object you brought with you and hold it for a few moments. Think about the child in the photograph. Not whether they would be proud of you or disappointed in you, but whether they would recognise you. Think about what parts of them still exist inside your gestures, your pleasures, your fears, your body.

 

Place one hand on your chest and one on your stomach. Breathe slowly. Feel the warmth of your own hands through your clothes.

 

Stay there for as long as feels right.

 

Before you leave, choose something small to take back with you from this place. Not something valuable just a token: a leaf, a receipt, a feather, a stone. Something that commemorates that you went there and returned.

 

When you get home, place it beside the photograph. This is your portal. The destination is innocence.