I perceive the world through a lens of imagination; story, myth, metaphor, narrative thematics… etc. Those of you who’ve known me for awhile are aware of this. You’ve put up with hundreds of podcasts and blog posts where I harped on about ‘mythic structure’, heroes journeys, Campbell, Jung, narrative roleplaying and all that stuff. It’s how I’m wired. It’s the primary way I make sense of things and find meaning and joy.

So, for the past few years, I’ve been paying attention to how my boys have been developing in terms of imagination and metaphorical thinking. Liam the WildLion has been a natural from the get-go. He makes up stories on the fly, understands the meanings behind many expressions and even seems to intuitively see into the thematics behind various stories, albeit through a 5-year old’s brain.

But Conor … to be honest I’ve worried about Conor. His way of ordering his world is meticulous, detailed, and very very literal. We call him the Cartographer for a reason. He loves to read and draw maps. He remembers roads, highway numbers and exit numbers, and directions to locations (even ones he’s never actually been to) as well as any GPS. He loves to read but usually when he talks about the things he reads, he describes the details and facts of the story rather than the themes and meanings. I’m not suggesting there’s anything wrong with this – far from it – but since it tends to differ from my way of seeing things I’ve worried that it might end up being a barrier of communication between us. I’ve worried that it’ll end up with us constantly talking past one another like a stereotypical scientist trying to discuss reality and existence with a religious mystic, or like a fundamentalist-literalist Christian throwing down with a postmodern theophile over whether Noah actually built an ark and whether or not it matters.

But last night as I went in to say goodnight to Conor, something happened.

He’d just been reading a book called “The Scrambled States of America”, which is a story where the states are personified as characters, some of whom get tired of being in one spot all the time and decide to have a party where all the states can mingle and get to know one another – after which they decide to switch places in order to have some new experiences. In the end though, they all go back to their original locations, but now with a renewed sense of appreciation, having had a bunch of new experiences and making new friends.

In spite of the clever way the book is written, though, it’s main idea seems to be to teach kids facts and details about U.S. geography. I figured that’s what attracted Conor to it in the first place.

But when I went in to say goodnight, Conor – with a wide grin – shut the book and set it on his bedside table, then looked up at me with a light in his eyes. And he said,

“Dad, I really liked that book.  The states all switched places but then ended up back where they started, but they were happier than when they started because they made friends with the other states and traded stuff and learned about each other.”

Mythic Journey 101, through the lens of an 8-year old. He gets it. And he can express it. Conor has the elixir and he shared it with me.

I think my eyes misted over.

What was I worried about?