Our place on the river, we are always at our best there.
"Creative genius is not the accumulation of knowledge; it is the ability to see patterns in the universe, to detect hidden links between what is and what could be." (p.33) One of my favorite things to doodle are things found in nature: six-petal, daisy-like flowers; leaves and fronds creating a canopy; and feathers, the delicate follicles tapering to a point. There is something so soothing about these loose parts of nature (p.34) that relaxes my brain and allows my hand to draw them without thought, the pen tracing lightly. After my father passed away, I helped my mom clean out his dresser drawers. I found his old college papers and was surprised at a glimpse of him as a young man: he liked to draw sharks, the strong elegant bodies punctuated by a slash of a fin or the zig-zag of sharp teeth. I have a few of my grandmother's and great-grandmother's pieces, and they enjoyed sketching scenes with water and palm trees in particular. My mother was fond of faces and skilled at chins and noses.
Looking at what my family created while relaxed in a positive state (p.33) is fascinating to me at how varied the representation of the natural world is, and how unlimited (p.34) their imagination. To my knowledge, my father as a young man was nowhere near an ocean, did not like water and did not travel at that time, yet he imagined a connection to sharks and the ocean. My grandmother and great-grandmother too, both loved to draw palm trees and sandy beaches, and yet they did not travel either, their beaches lived in their hearts. Only my mother's drawings of people make sense, as she was very good at forming deep, personal relationships with everyone from employees to customers.
Isn't that gorgeous?!
To dive into my own early experiences in nature (p.34), I loved flowers; so much so, I was one of those horrid children that would pick flowers from gardens without realizing what I was doing was a terrible thing. It was only until a neighbor appointed me the guardian of her yellow buttercups (ranunculus), did she successfully keep me from stealing all her flowers; for the record, I was five, maybe six. Funny that I don't remember much about being six except that I was in charge of that patch of flowers - would that be my ecstatic place? I still have a childhood fascination (p.36) with the tight petal formation, their beautiful waxy yellow appearance, and the sheer frustration of never being able to ever grow any of my own - such is fate's punishment so many years later.
Mapquest allowing me to creep: you can just make out the wavy line of the creek at the center.
I got one more, so you're getting four paragraphs instead of three: I am also deeply connected to water, which terrified my parents when I was little. Was it a desired connection to the natural world? (p.36) My parents were constantly fishing me out of pools, ponds, and lakes. They discovered I was a natural swimmer when I jumped into a pool at age three while attending my aunt and uncle's 25th wedding anniversary party. I was fond of mud and found joy in rainwater finding its way to the sewer. I thought the most beautiful place in the world was at the junction of Ballard, Page Avenue, and 9th in Michigan Center, where the most magical creek ran through someone's backyard. Every time we went to visit my Chicioa Ona - who had a pool AND a pond! - I would fight to be on the passenger side going and driver's side coming back just to catch a glimpse of the creek winding its way towards the lake. My sister has a place on the chain of lakes there, and I will take a detour just to look at it still.
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