It shouldn’t come as a shock. I’ve known it from the time I could peek under my own bed. The imagined monsters were never there. Still I had to repeat it in my head — “all of the danger is pretend.” I’m not too proud to say that these words are often rattling through my head, even today. Head under pillow I repeat them until they offer the great reveal. No actual monsters.

I live by imagination. And that’s a good thing. It moves through my heart and my hands. It helps me create paintings and stories. And used as a proper tool, it has given me all the advantages of an extraordinary life. And I wouldn’t change a thing. I feel more deeply. Love more deeply. But within all that, there is the danger of the runaway thought. That one that sneaks away without my knowledge or permission and not only warns, but creates a danger of its own. And all that power of creativity can work its persuasion, luring me head first and upside down from a youthful twin size bed, scanning for ghosts proven wrong, time and time again.

And I have to laugh, even walking on the path, right side up, all that blood can rush to my head, as I repeat the words louder, “all of the danger is pretend.” Over and over until it drowns out the worry, and only the path remains.

Walking in town yesterday, going to the restaurant, she told me of a struggle. “I’m just trying to find my way,” she said. “We all are,” I replied, both of surprised by the other. I suppose everyone thinks the “others” have it all figured out. As it so often happens, when she said it out loud – her worry – we both heard the words, took them in, and started to laugh. Most of the time, those monsters are pretty silly when you take a good look a them in the light of day.

I know many problems are real. The world is filled with them. But the path becomes so much clearer when we can leave the imagined ones behind. I’m working on that. Daily. Head up. Step by step. Word by word. Smile by smile.