{ An Excerpt from The Velveteen Rabbit Amongst Other Things... }

Children's stories have a soft spot in my heart, I grew up with a mountain of books & I remember having read every single one! I have always  been a voracious reader, however since becoming an adult :) I rarely have the time to sit & savour a lovely novel (sigh...); which is quite unfortunate really, because- shall I make a confession? I am once again nurturing the child in me. I disagree with the popular connotations attached to being an 'adult'... I am a rebel in a way, I think that the child in us should continue to live on even in adulthood. A bit of fun & impishness I guess is refreshing...sometimes even necessary. It's the simple things we forget, we adults- to laugh, to play, to take time to enjoy life despite the daily grind, to pause from everything and breathe a prayer of thanks, but these things which we take for granted are the ones which nurture the soul & best of all it's free. Perhaps it won't hurt to start getting into the habit of appreciating life & what we have. I'm sure if we start counting our blessings it'll help brighten our day :)

 Anyway, back to what I was saying-

I think you have to be a certain kind of person to author a book for such a special audience, one has to think like a child to capture their imagination & you have to be pretty brilliant if it appeals to the adults as well. I only have a handful of my favourite stories as a young child, most from Christian Andersen & Aesops fables ('though I quite liked Greek mythology) but the story below, written by Margery Williams in 1922 is my favourite one; it truly is a very endearing story & not to mention- really profound. Everytime I come back to it to read, it still has that effect on me and it's great to have stories like these (I am a bit disappointed with the newer generation & the stuff that is shown in telly's especially for the kids, but that is another post...)

Adults can benefit from it more, I dare say than the children. It is full of wisdom, life lessons and tenderness. The whole story can be found here, in the meantime I want to share my favourite part:

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.

  What this means to me: 

Life indeed has no shortcuts, every growth & step to improvement is a process. Some takes longer than others but still they get there, & that is why we have to learn to bear one another and to not be quick to judge. Those who go before should extend their hands and hearts to people who need them... to withhold help, is to withhold the light in their paths. 
I could delve into it more but I'll leave it at that. Now, if you have read the story, may I ask what it means to you?