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What I Learned from My Stepson’s Imaginary Friend

by LaTonya in Miscellaneous

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Here’s what I learned from the experience of my stepson’s imaginary friend …

Those that have read the “Conversations with God” book series by Neale Donald Walsh may remember that somewhere in the series it is shared that in many of the more evolved civilizations in the Universe  the young have or give birth to the children and the older ones do the actual raising of the children borne by the young.  It was shared that this type of arrangement differs from our current adoption or foster care systems and allows for child-rearing by those who have reached an age of wisdom through experience (on non-duality or polarity planes of existence).

As I read the experience shared by Pat Donworth at http://activistawake.com of his childhood friend (posted below), I was reminded of a time in my own life.  It occurred sometime in the 1990s before I hit my own awakening stride full on.  My stepson, around aged 4 at the time, began sharing with all who would listen that he had a new “friend.”  I couldn’t see this friend with my physical eyes, and so while I honored Matthew’s friend by leaving space for him at the table and other such “accommodations”, I, like many others around my stepson, took to referring to this being as my stepson’s “imaginary friend”.

I’m much wiser now (in a True Wisdom sort of way) and now know that that “imaginary friend” was just a guide or energy in spirit form that my stepson could see, but I couldn’t.  Nevertheless, the being was most probably as real as my stepson or I.   And while there’s more to the story, eventually my stepson stopped referring to his imaginary friend and life went on.[1]

Nowadays, in my more informed state of being, I understand the realness of such experiences and always seek to encourage and honor the experiences of the young in this regard.  But Pat Donworth’s sharing below re-ignited an often recurring question within me:  What would have been the outcome, for both my stepson and the world, had I known AT THE TIME of the realness of such visits and beings and that often the young can easily see them while the adults who have often succumbed to societal pressures against such things can’t?  What would have happened if I had nurtured this gift within my stepson instead of ignoring it or feeling it was just a young child’s passing fancy?

It does me no good at this point to beat myself up over the issue.  It was an experience and I learned from it.  That experience was one of many that helped open me to all that I see and experience today.  I bring it up here as I was reminded that perhaps the older and wiser raising the children as discussed in the Conversations with God series might have some benefits we’ve, or at least I’ve, previously ignored.  For the older and wiser me of today would have handled that situation with my stepson much differently back then.  Yet, the moment for my stepson has passed and I’ll never know whether my reaction to his “imaginary friend” was just another in a long line of societal pressures that eventually convinced him to “shut off” his power of intuitive sight, as so often happens with our young as they grow older in our world.

This is a beautiful time upon the planet right now.  A time where we’re allowing old, outdated structures and ways of doing things to fall and crumble so that we can replace them with new or revised more meaningful, real, truthful, compassionate and honoring methods and approaches.  I feel that part of those new approaches could include new ways of ensuring the intuitive gifts we’re borne with are nurtured to expand versus contract.

So all of this makes me wonder about our current systems of child rearing, adoption, foster parents, etc… How can we revise or re-create our current systems with regards to children so that they’re more nurturing and encouraging of the divinity within?

Anyway, here’s the post from Pat Donworth entitled “My Imaginary Friend”.  I found it so endearing ….

Love, peace and blessings,

LaTonya

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My Imaginary Friend

by Pat Donworth | July 23, 2012

http://activistawake.com/2012/07/23/my-imaginary-friend/

I’m not sure exactly when it was I met him. He just seemed to be always there.

I was young. Really young. Maybe 3 years old? He was probably there even before then. He was by my side, like a buddy or friend or a living stuffed animal. Always at my side, sometimes quiet and watching, usually engaging in conversation or speculation with me. We’d make up adventures, go to far-away places, ride horses and dolphins, and visit stars. That we were just imagining these made no difference and we would be laughing and having the best time! Never mind that he was invisible, at least to others. I saw him clearly.

He had black hair that often fell across his brow and into his eyes. He had a broad, squarish face, and he was a little older than me. I thought he was very handsome.

He’d be by my side if I was reading a book. He’d sit quietly at the table while I was doing homework. He’d wait for me on the playground at school, while I was in classes. I’d come out the door for recess or after lunch, and he’d be waiting for me. If I was with other kids, I’d always be aware of where he was, just on the edge of our group, whether we were talking or playing jump-rope or lined up against a wall selling penny candy. If my mom took my sister and me to the Saturday matinee cartoon, I’d make sure he had enough room to sit next to me. If we were at the lake or seashore during summer vacation, we’d play in the sand or water together. Never mind that he was invisible, at least to others. I saw him clearly.

On the weekends, I would listen to records (remember them?) on the record player in our living room. He would lounge on one of the couches, listening to the music or he’d come by the record player, lean against the wall, and listen to the music. Other times, we’d talk and plan and discuss things. When I got a little older, we’d go for walks in the neighborhood or down to the park at the end of our block. We’d play on the swing set or look for hidden caves or trap minnows in the park stream.

Sometimes, on a Saturday afternoon, while my dad was cutting the grass and my mom was painting in her studio – in other words, the ‘coast was clear’ — I’d put on my roller skates and skate around our dining room table, into our adjoining living room, then back into the dining room. (I’d made this kind of ‘figure 8’ loop around the furniture.) My parents were none too pleased when they’d see my Olympian roller skate tracks pressed into the carpeting (but that’s another story).

Anyway, he would roller skate right next to me. Sometimes we’d hold hands, like they do . . . well, somewhere. I’d put on my favorite record by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans singing “Have faith, hope, and charity, that’s the way to live successfully . . . how do I know? The Biii-ible tells me so.” (I must have played that song 13,000 times during my childhood.) I’d (we’d) skate round and round and round to that song playing over and over. I felt like I was in heaven.

If I was outside playing kickball in the street with the neighborhood kids, I’d know exactly where he was, watching the game. Or if I was riding my bike, alone or with the other kids, he’d be on his bike riding along with us. Of course, only I could see him.

He was invisible, obviously, to everyone but me. The proverbial ‘imaginary friend’ I suppose. But I saw him clear as day. He wore blue a lot and sometimes a white shirt. When I was 3, 4 and all the way to 9 or 10, he was as real to me as . . . well, as my flesh-and-blood family, or Baffles, my cat. For me, there was no difference between who they were and who he was — at least as far as being real.

Sometimes he would be in my dreams, engaged in all kinds of adventures together, just like in waking life. And he’d wear the same blue outfit, with the white shirt.

Then, one day, he just wasn’t there. I thought maybe he took a trip somewhere or had something else to do. He never came back, but in a faded memory kind of way, I felt he was around and that he knew what I was thinking and doing. Toward the end, I would roller skate by myself, wondering if he were just hiding. I hoped he would pop out from behind a tree, but he never did.

Did I miss him? You bet. But it was okay. I knew that he was there and if I really, really needed him, he’d show up, just like he used to.

Who was he? An angel? A guide? An ET? A spiritual buddy? A soul mate? Twin flame? A karmic pal? (As a child, except for an “angel,” I didn’t even know what those other things were.) Sometimes I’d feel that he was me, and I was him. Better said, it was like he and I came from the same place. We knew one another’s thoughts. We just understood one another, without having to say a word or explain anything. When he was around, I always felt good. Very high energy. A ‘crispness’, something more or better than this 3-D world.

Even back then, as a young child, I assumed he lived in a kind of “faery” or invisible world right next to my “real” world. He could see me and I could see him, so the barrier must not have been too thick or impenetrable. But, then again, I seemed to be the only one in my family that could see him. Maybe he was more like a guardian angel, after all. People believed in them, but just couldn’t see them. Only I could.
Well, the one thing I knew back then and I also know now is he was as real as the world and people around me. Though I did used to wonder . . . if, in his world, I was the invisible one that only he could see?

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Copyright © 2012 by Pat Donworth

http://activistawake.com/2012/07/23/my-imaginary-friend/

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