I just adore the book ‘The Velveteen Rabbit’ written by Margery Williams (thanks, Mops!).  First published in 1922 it has remained in print to inspire millions with the story of the power of imagination and how the Velveteen Rabbit becomes real.

As I’m already almost half way through my ‘year of living authentically’ I thought I’d share my favourite passage as it was part of my original inspiration to do this.  It’s timeless, elegant and clever, and I defy anyone to read it and not feel their heart warmed at least a little:

       “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 often happen 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 the 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.”

 

How perfectly poignant is that?  Children’s literature can be so wise and inspirational (you can hardly turn a page in Winnie-the-Pooh without a life lesson).  However deeply hidden under our protective layers it may be we all have the desire to be accepted for who we truly are, for our real selves to be loved, even – or especially – if that’s a little shabby.  Being Real isn’t about being perfect.  I don’t know about you, but I love my teddy bear even more now that his nose is coming unstitched and his belly is threadbare.