Do you remember what wonder felt like? What it was like to feel raw, sun-lit joy bereft of the severe — and several — mitigating factors promptly attributed to adulthood? Do you remember being mostly happy and usually excited about the prospects of this ephemeral, biological existence because it had trains, and color, and outer space, and a never-ending supply of bubble gum? Yeah, I remember this; I remember being mostly positive and easily awe-struck. I remember being this kid, this kid in the following video who saw Superman fly for the first time and lost his little, still-forming think-marbles.
This just made my day.
This is why I love Superman.
Look at this kid. pic.twitter.com/Q7VAobsQNF
— 暗い森。 (@LegoIasWayne) December 30, 2016
And why did he react with such a flagrant expression of happiness? Because what he saw was wondrous, and completely deserving of such a reaction. Celebrating the unlimited, joyous mystery that still exists in an infinite universe regardless of our microcosm of self-centered monotony is a good thing, a healing thing.
To be honest, when I see my heroes on the big screen displaying their hero-powers, and their hero-colors, and speaking their hero-speak, I can’t help but clutch the arms of my seat and allow my still-intact, intrinsic childhood curiosity to punch through the many layers of trained, stifling social strategies. I can’t help but be in the moment, and feel that feeling, and empathize with the larger universe when the avatars of our creative evolution are given such discerning form.
I still feel like that child; I still experience that awe, but it was constant, and it was never, ever questioned or deemed inappropriate. I want that again; I will have that wrongly stigmatized, ever-present joy again. And who reminded me of its importance? Superman, and those who are quite inspired by the unreality of Superman.