When’s the Last Time Somebody Lifted You in the Air?

Co-authored with Galit Romanelli

It’s Lesson 13 in the course Interventions in Family Therapy. Today I’m teaching the three parts in each of us: the parent, the partner, and the child. The class wasn’t getting it. I decide to demonstrate. I look around and see Nadir.

Nadir is an older, distinguished clinic director. A seasoned social worker with three kids and seven grandchildren. He is serious and wears his suit properly.

I turn to him and ask, “Nadir, when’s the last time somebody lifted you in the air?”

He froze for a second. A wave of surprise crossed his face. Then he burst out laughing. His eyes glittered. The whole class turned to look at him.

His wondrous child came out.

That question came unplanned, from deep inside me. From my own wondrous child.

That part many of us lost touch with.

Something Is Missing

“I’m not loving the job I’m in.”

“All in all, our marriage is stable but not exciting.”

“I’m comfortable, but something is missing.”

Every day in the clinic, we meet people looking for something. They can’t name it. Their lives range from content, to dull, to bad. Something is missing and they go searching for it. A new job. A new house. A new partner. They are surviving life, day after day, but they’re not living it.

What they’re missing is in reach. It’s inside them.

What’s missing is their wondrous child.

The Party Is Inside

There are many theories about our internal parts. From NLP, through IFS, to relational therapy. We have many parts, many self-states. The playful part, the horny part, the vengeful part.

Emotional health is the ability to have access, choice, and control over these self-states. Oftentimes some parts take over, and others are exiled.

In our previous article, we mapped the Relational Identity Matrix, composed of the different parts of the parent, partner, and child. We described two dimensions of that child: the wounded child, and the wondrous child. The wounded child is the one who got hurt very young. That part often activates our defense mechanisms and pushes us away from vulnerability. But it’s just one child part.

What John Bradshaw called the wonder child, and Jung the divine child, we call the wondrous child. It is that wondrous child that is the life force and battery of our wise adult part. Adults who lose touch with it grow old without saging.

What Is the Wondrous Child?

It’s your creative spark. The image of God. The free-spirited youngster in you. It wonders and gets surprised. It looks at your life and your partner from a fresh perspective. It wants and reaches for your dreams and yearnings. It feels the wide range of emotions, from sorrow to ecstasy. It has vigor and vitality, a hop in your step. It loves easily, gives easily, receives easily.

The syntax of the wondrous child is “I wanna.”

Not “I should.” Not “I have to.” Should and have to are the voice of guilt and superego. Those often come from the wounded child. The wondrous child unabashedly desires without apologizing: I wanna jump in the air. I wanna chocolate ice cream. I wanna run in the rain. The wondrous child is not afraid to want.

It’s Never Too Late to Have a Happy Childhood

Nadir shares his last memory of being picked up. He was 6 years old and his uncle threw him in the air behind their house.

And since then? No one lifted you in the air?

He takes a deep breath, and says: “No, I’ve been too big since then.” He looks down. Suddenly the energy shifts and we all feel his wondrous child leaving the room.

Sara, another student in the class, raises her hand and asks what if someone’s childhood was mostly traumatic? What if there’s only a wounded child?

The wondrous child doesn’t relate to the actual child you were in your past. It is an archetype that lives in all of us. Just like the archetype of warrior, queen, jester. Everyone has one. Even if your childhood was full of trauma, adversity, or pain. My own childhood wasn’t all flowers and rainbows. And I’m proof that you can connect to that part regardless.

How to Connect to the Wondrous Child

That part is waiting for you to play with it. You don’t need to force it. Just relax and invite it.

Follow your passion. Notice what gives you pleasure and move toward it. Not what you should enjoy. When you’re in flow, surrender to that joy and exaggerate the moment, even if it feels strange in the beginning.

Make time and space. The wondrous child isn’t efficient. It needs room. Wait, watch, and wonder.

Give it permission. Most of us have been told, many times, to be serious. When the whimsical, nonsensical arises, go with it. “Yes, and” yourself.

Play. Play is our mother tongue. Don’t take yourself too seriously. Be foolish and irreverent.

Move. Use your body. That’s where the wondrous child lives. Find movements and postures that seem strangely satisfying.

Balcony time. The best way we found to help partners connect to their wondrous child is through what we call balcony time. Balcony time is a protocol that helps couples curate and enjoy a relational playground where both wondrous children can come and play together. You can download the protocol here.

The Wondrous Child Heals the World

When we connect to our wondrous child, we feel free. Full of love, abundance, and benevolence. And when we operate from there, our life becomes a wonder. In a world full of hardship, hierarchy, and violence, our task is to hold on to our wondrous children. To cleave to them. To give them permission to play.