My kids are in the blanket fort years. This is the stage of child development that follows the “floor is lava” crisis and overlaps with the “Did you feed your hermit crab?” phase.
Photo Credit: David Clinton
Last week I walked into my living room and was greeted by a massive spider web structure made of afghans, chip clips and, regrettably, every pillow in the house. This fragile stronghold was stockpiled with contraband snack food, stuffed animals, a lightsaber or two and a dim flashlight about whose origin I am still unclear. Each supply was lovingly tucked into its own special nook.
If you are envisioning a charming, Pinterest-worthy tent made with canopying sheets and tulle netting, rest assured: it was not that. I think most of us would have looked at it and said, “That is unfortunate.”
However, the small human architects behind its construction saw it with very different eyes. They were so proud. So excited. Affection, it seems, is the glue that holds a good blanket fort together. Affection and sturdy, load-bearing throw pillows.
How we see determines what we see. I need to remember that.
I recently turned forty. I’m not going to lie; it has been weird. There is a growing sense of my own temporariness that seems to be lingering in the background of my mind at all times. It has always been there, but it feels like somebody turned up the volume a notch or two.
Forty means that I am not new anymore. Forty means grey whiskers. Forty means laugh lines when I smile. And when I don’t smile. Forty means a mind that struggles in the shower to recall whether or not I put shampoo in my hair. Forty means gratitude that I still have some hair left to shampoo.
Forty means I am aging. But I have been aging my whole life. I have never not been aging. Aging means I am alive. I need to remember that.
I’ve been ruminating on some bigger (and probably unanswerable) questions: Do we ever truly know what we are doing? Or are we all doing our best to build a coherent life out of the objects, habits, opportunities, roles and relationships that we find around us?
Are our lives in essence, blanket forts?
Blanket forts come assembly required, but with no instructions. You make them up as you go. Life is the same way.
Technically, there are tons of instructions out there. Experts, gurus, your parents, your parents’ friends; people love telling each other how to live their lives. In the end though, we all have to cobble together our own design. If you’re lucky, you get to do it with someone else who knows they’re making it up as they go, too.
Perhaps, like the blanket fort, what is most important about our life is the eyes with which we view it. How we see determines what we see. Maybe if we look at our lives with loving, curious and grateful eyes, we will see an improvised masterpiece filled with messy beauty.
And hopefully, a little contraband snack food as well.
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Next Post: On February 23rd, Kelly will be writing about “The Most Important Choice You’ll Ever Make”
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David Clinton
David and his wife live in the western suburbs on Chicago with their two children, who David says “fill my days with laughter, excitement and a significant amount of property damage.”
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David, what a fabulous blog entry!! As my granddaughter is in the blanket fort stage and I just had a milestone birthday I found it very true. Looking forward to reading more of your blog entries!! Enjoy your forties; they pass quickly!
Thank you for this. I am about to turn 40, and have been wrestling with self made (but not met) expectations of what my 40 year old self should have accomplished by now. My kids make the exact blanket forts your describe - the visual is perfect! I will work to see me through different eyes, finding beauty in each nook. Thank you.
Hi David,
I recently turned 41… It touched me the way you put it… Those are the small changes, some of them so “light” that let also me know where I was and am in life… And it has been with happiness and a sense of wonderment, that I am enjoying what the mirror says… Despite the white hairs and those wrinkles that even if I am serious, don’t go away. I arrived here by chance but was worthy, please keep writing.
Hugs from Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Beautiful post, David! Really enjoyed…
“If you’re lucky, you get to do it with someone else who knows they’re making it up as they go, too.”
Indeed, this is very beautiful - to create a blanket fort rooted in Love and Affection at the core; not mattering what it may look like in the eyes of Pinterest… but in the eyes of each other, it is absolutely adoring. And yes, it may not be perfect - some lava may burst through the seams, some water through the cracks and holes - but it is perfect just the way it is. Perfectly imperfect. Imperfectly perfect.
This could be one person, or many persons in your life who look upon you as a vision of a “charming, Pinterest-worthy tent” to them - an “improvised masterpiece filled with messy beauty” and believe, “How fortunate am I!” Knowing, it begins with you - looking in the mirror and loving that tangled, blankety mess of charming beauty uniquely dangling in space as only you can.
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And know that at no matter what age, we are always new with each breath we take - we are born anew… the opportunity exists for this rebirth. Even if that newness comes in the form of a new gray hair… a new wrinkle that has formed… a new creak in our body… and always the chance for new thoughts to form or a new something to forget…
Thank you for your kind and thoughtful response, William. I think you are exactly right. If we are willing to let go of the past versions of ourselves (which are gone, even if we cling to them in our minds), there is a chance for a new version to emerge. I suspect this is one of the secrets to finding peace and joy in life.
I loved your post!
Greetings from Lima, Perú.
Thank you Erika! Greetings to you from a wintry Chicago.