I was walking down the corridor of UCLA's old hospital and waited for an elevator that would take me to the sixth floor. Countless thoughts concerning the mundane activity that would consume the next nine hours of my life had me feeling a little bit depressed. The elevator door opened, inside I found a mother and her young daughter, I took my place in the back of the elevator with my headphones on, staring at the elevator doors as they shut. The child caught my attention as she began to run around in circles and than back to the elevator buttons. She kept running around attempting to reach a new button and fulfill her curious nature.
As the elevator ascended it got me to think, how I have lost that youthful curiosity that makes life and all those mundane activities more tolerable. How and when did that happen? When did we surrender our sense of self and settle for a job that doesn't quench that little curiosity that we have left? Than I began to think how we become conditioned to be a "productive member of society" or a mindless drone. My thoughts became interrupted as the young girl stopped in front of me and looked into my eyes. I smiled, within her eyes you could see a thirst to explore and learn. "How old is she?" I asked the mother. "She's two and a half. She loves these buttons!" She responded. The elevator reached the sixth floor and I said some parting words, I began to walk down another corridor and it got me thinking about the "elevator buttons" i that I haven't been pushing for sometime now.
As the elevator ascended it got me to think, how I have lost that youthful curiosity that makes life and all those mundane activities more tolerable. How and when did that happen? When did we surrender our sense of self and settle for a job that doesn't quench that little curiosity that we have left? Than I began to think how we become conditioned to be a "productive member of society" or a mindless drone. My thoughts became interrupted as the young girl stopped in front of me and looked into my eyes. I smiled, within her eyes you could see a thirst to explore and learn. "How old is she?" I asked the mother. "She's two and a half. She loves these buttons!" She responded. The elevator reached the sixth floor and I said some parting words, I began to walk down another corridor and it got me thinking about the "elevator buttons" i that I haven't been pushing for sometime now.
