I remember as a child always going on quests, of a short, more often than not in an imaginary world I had created. I would battle crocodiles, find hidden treasures, run away from home to find my ‘real parents’ (who turned out to be circus folk or extremely wealthy), search for fairies at the bottom of the garden or try and solve a mystery. I would dress up in colorful, ludicrous outfits, pack a bag, sometimes a snack and get lost in the journey itself than mostly ended when I was called in for dinner or it was time for bed.
That sense of adventure without a resolution, the enjoying the journey not the arrival, the search not the finding is something our goals oriented world doesn’t really cater for once we hit adulthood. So I can’t help but wonder if maybe rediscovering questing is a quest in itself. After all who doesn’t want to be a pirate princess, an adventurer, a circus acrobat, a cowgirl, a fire-eater or able to fly?
And while of course I know all of these dreams may be somewhat unrealistic, spending a wet and miserable Saturday afternoon daydreaming about impossible quests seems like the perfect thing to do – at least until dinnertime or my bed calls.