Rose-colored lenses

The innocence of Disney movies unfailingly brings tears to my eyes. What I wouldn’t give to be able to view the world with the rose colored lens of a child: to be able to find joy in simple things like finding an extra piece of candy at the bottom of the jar or being carried inside by your father because you fell asleep in the car or rushing out to play right after doing your homework or using silly code names to refer to silly little boys or rushing into the soft, sweet arms of your grandmother after a whole year or wrapping yourself up with two blankets in a burrito sandwich or building pillow forts with your siblings or turning on the TV on a lazy Sunday morning to watch Dumbo. Disney movies tend to evoke nostalgia and conjure up a sense of such fragile and pure simplicity that leaves everything else feeling so much harsher in comparison. They help you realise that the beauty of life lies in the simpler things, in memories you thought to be insignificant at times or places you tend to overlook or people you take for granted. They help you appreciate the constancy your privilege awards you, and the predictability of what is to come by how they romanticise the classic, happy ending. In this day and age complexity is glorified and the meaning of normalcy and humanness is lost on so many people, but Disney movies help you see that more often than not, we make things complicated for fear of being thought of as mundane and inferior. “Hustle culture” is romanticised in today’s time and hustlers ideolized while the man who finds joy in the mundane things, like the first sip of his chai in the morning or gazing at the birds hopping from tree to tree in the wind, is forgotten and blurred out by the crowd. We need Disney movies more than ever today, if only to remind ourselves of the rose colored lenses we used to view the world with.