I’m not sure exactly when my imagination started running away with me, that is, when I began using it to limit my self-image, to blind myself from my own light, my wholeness, my greatness. When did I become like that polar bear cub I heard about many years ago that was kept in a cage at a zoo for several months and when finally released into its permanent enclosure would not venture beyond the limits of its imaginary cage? When did I start putting up the blinders and the filters and the defense mechanisms and the bars? I distinctly remember as a young boy using my imagination to become bigger, better, stronger, more like Superman…or at least more like Shane. I used it in order to see myself as being capable of accomplishing anything and everything. I loved letting my imagination run away with me that way. Then it turned around and double crossed me and started running away with the “real me.”
Maybe it began around the same time I started believing that it wasn’t safe or appropriate to show my feelings in this world. But it doesn’t really matter how or when or why it happened. What matters, as always, is what I do about it now. Because I’ve used my imagination to limit myself for so long, it has become hard for my eyes to see what my heart knows is true of me and of everyone else—that we are whole, perfect and complete. As Mark Twain said, “You can’t trust your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.” So I can refocus my imagination by using it to see the truth of me.
I can envision myself showing up in life exactly as I choose to. I can envision myself responding with patience, love and compassion instead of reacting with anger or judgment. I can envision myself sticking to my intentions, acting with kindness, giving hope to people, helping to birth a greater awareness within myself and other people of our wholeness and oneness. I can envision myself going beyond the bars, opening up to a more expansive picture of myself. I can do all this because I still have a power of imagination. And if I imagined all the illusion and limits, I can certainly imagine the truth.
John Muir said that “imagination makes us infinite.” It’s a beautiful phrase, but I beg to differ. Imagination doesn’t make us infinite, we already are infinite. Imagination can help us see it. And when we can see the eternal and the infinite in ourselves, we can see it in others and in the world.
It might feel like pretending, but that’s OK. It only feels that way because I’m inside the cage right now. And, as it turns out, the word “pretend” comes from the same root as the word “claim.” So I don’t look at imagining my bigness and wholeness as acting, I look at is reclaiming my birthright. I look at it as remembering. I look at it as reclaiming and repainting a picture of myself that is good and beautiful and true; a picture I can continue to grow into.
The polar bear cub had to have some imagination to have ever seen past the imaginary bars. I can see now that imagination has played a similar role in everything I’ve ever done that had real value. Everything I’ve ever done to truly love and serve others involved me first seeing past the imaginary bars of my own creation and into a realm of greater possibility for myself.
That’s the really good news: that whenever I break through any imaginary barriers and realize more of my bigness, everyone benefits. We break through barriers for each other, because we’re all one. Before Roger Bannister broke the 4-minute mile, it was thought to be impossible. Within months, many other runners did it. As Marianne Williamson wrote, “When we let our own light shine, we unconsciously allow others to do the same.”
I’m always learning how to let my light shine more brightly, and this has been another piece. I’ve allowed my light to be dimmed from my sight over the years, and now I know that it was just my imagination running away with me. So now I’m letting it make amends by finding me. It’s only fair.
And if that’s all we remember, that’s more than enough for now.
