I feel very warm towards Mum and Dad for giving us the

Hear the gentle yet profound words of Dido Armstrong, a singer whose melodies carry the quiet strength of reflection: “I feel very warm towards Mum and Dad for giving us the independence they did. My childhood, and the fact we didn’t have a TV, gave me a boundless imagination.” These words are not merely a remembrance of home, but a hymn to independence, simplicity, and the sacred power of the imagination. They remind us that true richness lies not in possessions, but in the freedom to think, to dream, and to create. In an age where many are captive to screens and noise, Dido’s words are a lantern held high against the shadows of distraction.

In the days of old, the sages taught that the mind is like a field: if left untended, it grows weeds, but if nourished with stillness and curiosity, it bears fruit beyond measure. The childhood Dido speaks of—one without the constant glow of a television, without the ceaseless chatter of the world—was a field fertile for wonder. From such soil, imagination rises like dawn over the hills. The independence her parents granted her was not abandonment, but trust—a faith that she could find joy and meaning without being told where to look. And in that trust, her spirit learned to roam free, discovering worlds unseen.

There was once, in ancient Greece, a philosopher named Epictetus, who was born a slave but became a teacher of kings. He had no wealth, no comforts, yet he spoke of a freedom deeper than any master could grant: the freedom of the mind. He said that happiness does not depend on what we possess, but on how we see. This is the essence of Dido’s wisdom. A home without many things may still be a palace if it is filled with imagination. And a child who learns to invent joy rather than consume it carries within them an unbreakable strength.

Dido’s gratitude towards her parents is a quiet anthem of praise to those who understand the sacred art of restraint. In giving their children independence, they gave them the chance to grow roots and wings together—to be grounded and yet capable of flight. Many parents, out of love, seek to fill every hour with entertainment, every silence with sound. But silence, like darkness before dawn, is not the enemy. It is the womb of creativity. From it comes story, song, and thought—the eternal treasures of humankind.

Her mention of a boundless imagination is no idle phrase. The imagination is the bridge between what is and what can be. It is the forge of poets, the tool of inventors, the sanctuary of dreamers. When we lose it, we lose the light that guides us through the unknown. A childhood free from constant distraction allows this light to shine unhindered. It teaches the young to listen—to the wind, to their own hearts, to the quiet voice of possibility. Such listening is a rare gift, and those who possess it often go on to shape worlds of beauty and truth.

Yet we must not hear Dido’s words as mere nostalgia. They are a lesson for this age, where screens speak louder than hearts and noise drowns wisdom. If we wish to reclaim our imagination, we must learn once more the art of stillness. Turn off the endless flow of images. Walk beneath the sky without music in your ears. Let your mind wander, let your thoughts play. For in these quiet moments, the soul remembers how to see again.

The lesson, then, is this: independence and imagination are twin gifts—one of the will, the other of the spirit. Parents, give your children space to be curious. Seek not to fill every moment with stimulation; leave room for wonder to grow. And to those already grown, know that it is never too late to awaken that inner child who once found worlds in clouds and stories in silence. For the mind that can imagine freely can never be imprisoned.

So, let Dido’s words echo as a call to renewal: cherish simplicity, nurture freedom, and guard the spark of imagination as you would guard a sacred flame. In that flame lies the power to create, to heal, and to dream the world anew.