By: JaTon Kılınç
I have observed that those who take life too seriously are often the most miserable, while those who still embrace their inner child live happier, freer lives. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, but look at some of the world’s best-selling authors—J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, and J.R.R. Tolkien. Each invoked the creative imagination of their inner child to craft extraordinary worlds.
Consider the athletes who have found a way to play their favorite games for a living. Even Elon Musk, one could argue, is still playing with cars—albeit on a much larger scale—channeling his childlike curiosity into innovation. Jeff Bezos once dreamed of going to space, and now he has entered the arena of space exploration.
I remember when I was in college working at a law firm. One of the attorneys spent his spare time—well, nearly all his time—playing video games while his paralegal did the heavy lifting. But that, mes amies, is a story for another day.
What I have noticed is that many of us, myself included, have misunderstood adulthood. We have traded in our childlike creativity for a lifetime of busyness and hard work. In much of the Western world, self-worth is tied to career climbing rather than joy.
In Turkey, I have seen something different. Turks seem to weave enjoyment naturally into their daily lives. Shop owners and employees do not feel compelled to fill their hours with pointless “busy work.” They sit on terraces between customers, enjoying the moment. When shopping for furniture, it is customary to be offered a cup of tea before making a final decision.
In every city and village I have visited, there are coffeehouses—essentially “men’s clubs”—where locals gather to play games, drink tea, and chat late into the evening. For a lone woman, it can feel intimidating to walk by, as the men sometimes stare or call out, but it is mostly harmless fun. Men of all ages frequent these cafés, though they are predominantly middle-aged or older. Too old for soccer fields, they instead gather here to enjoy camaraderie.
Some might ask why such spaces do not exist for women. The answer lies in tradition. Turkey remains relatively conservative, and in many traditional cultures, the home is the woman’s gathering place. I can appreciate this balance. These men are not tucked away in dark corners of vice; they are in the open air, under sunlight, sipping tea, laughing, and living.
Turks understand that life is meant to be savored. It is meant to move at a slow, steady rhythm, with time to enjoy simple pleasures—to feel the sun on your face, watch the sunset, gaze at the moon, breathe in the fresh air, and talk with friends about something other than work. I have noticed that Turks are never too busy to stop what they are doing for tea.
Now, I may be considered the rude American since I have yet to invite anyone over for tea—mostly because I have not mastered Turkish tea making. Fortunately, Turks are incredibly kind, and I still receive invitations. But, hey—I bought the kettle set. It’s a start. No judgment, please.
Mes amies, what I am truly saying is that Turks have held onto a kind of childlike spirit that whispers, “Do not take life too seriously.”
Think back to your childhood—how nothing felt too serious and how each day brimmed with adventure. Remember waking up excited for the day ahead, reluctant to go to bed for fear of missing out on life.
Try to awaken that feeling again. Wake up full of life. Wake up full of joy. Whether you were a child who raced outside to explore or one who preferred to dwell in the world of imagination, both require creativity, openness, and a willingness to live.
To live means you are not merely existing. It means you are observing, appreciating, and feeling.
That is what Turkey reminds me of. And now, I am reminding you:
Find your inner child. He or she may be napping, but that is all right. Wake them gently, because there is an entire world out there waiting to play.
Je suis JaTon 