Daniel Holden Smith
August 6, 2025
An Ode to Mud, and Our Wild Child
Daniel Holden Smith
6.22.24
Mirror Mirror,
At which point in our growth did we stop savoring the aches? Why, while learning to walk, do we so poorly tolerate the inevitable fall? What puppeteer, within us or out there, persists solely to make every step a truly frightful affair? Through first words all of us once mumbled, and on new legs we did so giddily tumble.
Where did I go?
That child with wild eyes keen on seeing all that is to be seen and feeling all there is to feel (never mind the occasional banana peel). I wonder what he’d do with this body, this spirit, if only I’d let him take the wheel. Ohh! How fun it is to be a child behind the controls of a new vehicle. Ohhh! How quickly you can traverse, how speedily you might spin, how fully does your face grin! One who lives, without burden of time or sin, should surely be the fairest of all.
It’s difficult to imagine living and being oneself entirely uninhibited. It is true that we come from the ground. And yet the further we climb out from our holes, the more steadily dirt is piled on top of us. This dirt shapes our bodies, molds our view on life, and unveils our character. How then, might we shake it all off? Should we even wish to? Is this soil not what keeps us tethered to life? I wonder if this is what keeps us sane. I wonder if it’s this earthy veil that allows us to live and work the way we do, so that the eternal does not choke out the everyday.
Few things excite a child like a heaping mound of dirt. You can scoop it up, pack it down, give it a Tonka transport, and even sample its flavor. A delicious meal might be prepared from it, garnished with grasses. Water might be mixed with it until you’ve created the most sublime sample of mud. And mud is fun to throw. But ’dults greet mud with a bellowing “NO!” But oh how fun it is to throw! It makes clothes prettier. It makes toes grittier. Pure joy can be found in getting muddy with your buddies. Who then taught us that stepping around mud is preferable to stomping through it? Who convinced us that it’s best to avoid the dirt, deny ourselves, and smother bliss?
We all have lived this way: expansively, passionately, soulfully. We all have been given this chance to nurture a power far beyond any other: to frolic through the mud. Lately I’ve had brief moments, which I strive to lengthen, in which I am flushed with this pure bliss for being. And this feeling is made physical with a forceful wave of chills all through my body. If imagination could be injected, I reckon that’s how it’d feel; and I’d wager these chills would be not a passing wave but a steadfast sea.
And if I may, I’d like to elaborate on my most recent experience with this feeling, and ponder how I think it came about. And if you’ll humor me, you might try it out yourself sometime.
It was a kind of spring morning that makes you certain, even if just for a moment, that everything is all right in the world. The sun was coming up over a picturesque cemetery, a light moisture was in the air, and birdsong was bountiful. I was cruising along in a modestly used Jeep, absorbing wind and sun through the open roof. A smile rested on my face, and a peek into my mind would reveal it empty. Then a thought strode in, one that gave heart a flutter. I felt that my younger self might be proud of who we are now. And then I thought, why not ask him?
Now here’s where it gets cool, so stay with me. If you’ve ever seen James Cameron’s Avatar, Neon Genesis, or played Titanfall, then this will make more sense. What these stories have in common is the “equipping” of a body that is not your own. Whether soldiers outfitted with mech-suits, or Jake Sully reviving into an entirely different species, these characters adorned bodies which enhanced their reach, power, and assertion of self.
Now snap back to me, in the car, feeling lofty. Why not ask him? (And here’s where injecting imagination is helpful, since inner child and/or past-self consultation is a bit woo-woo.) I took a breath, and did my best to relax. I imagined this wild eyed child, who’s usually not tall enough to ride. But this time, I looked the other way and let him pass through. I watched his smile and heard his chirps of laughter as he jumped in through my back. Electricity went through my spine while slotting his legs into these fleshy stilts. A warmth washed through my torso as he slipped regally into each arm like a brand new blazer. My neck straightened itself with pride as he rested his face behind mine, and gazed out through our eyes. My hands and fingers pawed the wheel with a sense of renewal and wonder, as if it were my first time holding one. Inside me, vibrating very close but sounding terribly far, a voice goes “woooaahhh!! So COOOL!!!” The churning of chills came loudly with his arrival; and this time pinged down to toes and up into nose, till fleeing out my eyes which pulled gently closed.
“Throughout my whole life, during every minute of it, the world has been gradually lighting up and blazing before my eyes until it has come to surround me, entirely lit up from within.”
— Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
I miss him, and he misses me. And I reckon some of the same goes for you. So next time the dirt is piling and there’s no smiling, ask yourself “what would a kindergartner do?”