A boy swam in a seemingly endless sea of perfect, safety tested plastic toys designed in primary colors. Standing on the carpet of his room; the room with his name on the door, he was fed up. Weeks ago he had already grown weary of his older version of Wii, and several of his friends at school had already started using the latest model.
In another galaxy far away, a group of children tried with all their ability to get three paper kites into the air. The wind tantalizingly stirred the highest branches in the trees, but the kites weren’t cooperating. One of their fathers had come home to the village yesterday with string.
Onlookers’ eyes radiated with wonder. Voices filled the air with nervous excitement. Each time a kite tumbled back to the earth, the crowd laughed. Three or maybe five or nine younger children eagerly scampered, racing forward to snatch up the patch work of notebook paper and balsa to give the playful sky another try.
Where does it come from? How does it so effortlessly and mercilessly abandon our souls? It is humanity’s preeminent quest.
Why do we look in all the wrong places?