child muse

Five-year old approval goes a long way especially when it comes to stories. Who better than to nix an idea or give a short though all the same standing ovation for some literary genius? While I wish I could claim either of those titles, a literary or a genius, I do have some clever stories every once in awhile. And this afternoon proved to be a magical moment.

I’m an artist that needs a muse, a muse with a suggestion, however small or off the wall. Were you ever asked to draw something and sit stumped at what profound picture might grace the single page with which you have to create a masterpiece? Somehow a flower always comes to mind. (Tangent: If ever I tried to fall asleep as a kid, the image of the Wicked Witch of the West, rainbows and elephants came to my head. Once the witch flew over these latter pieces of my imagination, I would be out. So flowers seem somehow docile and obvious.) When it comes to stories, a similar block comes to my head. That was until I read a book that suggested inserting 2 things: human, mineral or otherwise. Pink and teacups or grass and telescope can start a myriad of great stories. (This suggestion to get suggestions is key to improv if ever you have to MC without a script…)

This afternoon my listener offered princess and dragon. While almost too easy I decided to put the dragon in the closet and take the princess to 3rd grade. Only my hero, Oliver, could make all things right, all the while sporting green converse sneakers.

I finished not to applause but to a smile. I guess that was a good enough prize; I wasn’t interrupted or booed off the stage, and the audience participated in key ways, even naming the auxiliary characters. What this five-year old doesn’t know is that she gave me a boost, actually a running start at one of my bucket list items: write a children’s book.

Now I just have to find an enamoring title and equally clever way to present the child’s tale to adults. Talk about a tough crowd! Maybe I should hand out beanies with spinners when I present my idea. Weee…

TRAINing the imagination

When did you last watch a train go by and wonder its contents? What did you picture inside each car? Who might be conducting such a long, winding, gargantuan snake of a vehicle down thin strips of metal?

These questions only came to me through a friend’s eyes that were seeing an American train up close and personal for the first time. Growing up in an area where trains passed through on a daily basis, the fascination of a train had escaped me many years ago. Plus I outgrew the Boxcar Children book series a while back. But my new Malawian friend peppered me with questions. And we came up with some great possibilities to the former questions.

The large boxcars concerned my friend. Really anything could be in there, she thought. And who’s to say why not? I told her all sorts of material such as coal (as energy products) and even animals travel in such cars. While riding her bike she so expertly started to jostle about as if the vibrations of the train were affecting her. In a shaky voice she said, “Can you imagine a poor cow on such a ride. Poor thing. Cows in Africa are never treated this way.” To that I could only reply with a chuckle and comeback question. “Do you mean to tell me your cows travel on couches, getting their hooves painted and drinking chai tea?” She laughed, “Of course.”

Many of the cars on the train were black barrels. When asked, I could only guess what was in them- natural gas, propane, or some other liquid/gaseous “energy” products. I’ve since learned that tanker cars (the proper name for the black barrels) coming through Spokane hold just such substances and are even proposed as training tools for haz. mat. specialists. Eek!
But another image popped into my head. They’re huge licorice treats. Giants use straws made from hallowed out trees to suck out the licoricey juice. Sometimes if the Giants are being naughty they’ll spit the juice like a spitball. This sticky mess actually finishes a lot of highway construction projects without using so much tar.

Finally the driver, aka conductor, came to our conversation. My friend thought it must be the most difficult of jobs, pull all of those cars and driving the winding trail. Indeed, it would be hard putting it that way. I thought the Flintstones had it rough, running in order for their cars to move, but pulling a train is too much. Then somehow the image of the car became tiny or the hand guiding it as if it were a toy train was giangumbous, and I marveled at the smooth movement of it all.

My friend helped me see the ordinary with a childlike imagination. Writing a children’s book is on my bucket list. Such a world as she helped foster offers fertile imaginary ground.

Recommitting

I just woke up from a Sunday afternoon nap, but didn’t actually want to get up.

I have a few things on my "to do" list, many of which I would enjoy, but they seemed so daunting compared to my soft pillow.

And one such item on my list was to write.

Of course, that “to do” has failure scribbled all over it. It’s like when a little kid asks me to draw a picture. Where to start? What’s the subject? What color crayon?
But adding such a to do on the list was my first real intention at recommitting to my blog, to journaling, and to writing as a joyous hobby. I’ve looked over the number of entries for past months and realized I wrote because I thought there was something worthwhile to say. I was touring the USA with kids from Africa. I was teaching English and kissing giraffes in Kenya. I was running for ridiculous distances (ridiculous for a sprinter).

So here I am, Sunday afternoon, doing normal life, looking at my “to do” list, maybe eating lunch and realizing, writing doesn’t always need an exotic subject. A picture can be a simple pink flower.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t see the value to rehashing the mundane thoughts behind laundry- though I did read an interesting blog from a mom with nine kids who prays as she folds clothes, a prayer for the wearer. I do see real value, however, in putting down one word at a time. Making a switch to act rather than to sloth about.
Part of the gas fueling this ambitious engine is the book Switch by Dan Heath and Chip Heath. They write about the simple things that can change behaviors, attitudes, and realities. They have many profound and practical techniques that I’ve already begun to integrate into my work and personal life. (Perhaps I should dedicate this blog entry to them.) I highly recommend the book but in order for this thought to move off the screen and into action, I invite you to use a few of their suggestions:

1)On your list write: Look on Amazon.com for Switch.
2)Or Look in the telephone book for the library’s number to call and ask if they have it.
3)Better yet, find it on tape. The book’s already read for you. All you have to do is drive while the narrator reads. You’re half way done.

I love writing. I love reading. I love making dinner, working out, practicing music, emailing my friends, even brainstorming and executing projects for work. But sometimes it takes a little more enthusiasm and tactical trickery to get my elephant of motivation working.

Another one of my favorite writers, Anne Lamott, puts it like this. Her brother had a report due on the many species of birds in his home state. As any good teenage student would, he left it for the last minute. Stressed out and only slightly motivated, he sought advise (more in the form of HELP ME, DO THIS!) from his father. The father simply said, “Son, you’re just going to have to go bird by bird.”

I plan to modify my "to do" lists slightly. Say one prayer for someone you know in the world. Stop for 5 minutes and think. Put on your running shoes and go out the door. Pour yourself a half a glass of water. And now another. Write one sentence about what you see out your window. These aren't profound. They're not even interesting. But they're a start, one step in many miles.