January 27, 2009 at 12:08 pm (Uncategorized)
Tags: adult, age, child, imagination, ridiculous
When I was a child, I used to sit on my bed and pretend I was the Childlike Empress. I would sit Indian-style and twist the sheets and blankets on my bed, layer by layer, in an upwinding spiral around my lower half. I would tie a ribbon around my forehead like a tiara and pretend I had the Auryn around my neck. I would bestow wishes and grant adventures and smile benignly, all safe and snug in my cozy wrappings. I reminisce about such times.
Still, as an adult, I don’t generally feel the need to wrap myself in a cocoon. I may have a lazy day under blankets or in pyjamas occasionally, but that’s not quite the same thing. Even if I did, I doubt I would imagine myself as some god or religious figure in my swaddlings. Looking like I’m dressed in a tarp no longer has the same appeal. Perhaps this is a loss of innocence spawned by the onset of puberty, but generally I see it as an advantage fo adulthood.
To close, I give you another post on adult-type wrappings, a.k.a the Snuggie.
November 25, 2008 at 10:42 am (Uncategorized)
Tags: age, awe, awesome, imagination, universe
I love the descriptive techniques of children. They help us remember to see in ways we’ve forgotten, to approach the world with wonder, to allow our minds to leap across improbabilities as easily as we step across a puddle. Life becomes simple: problems become places to experiment, rather than mourn. Crops drying out? Rain dance. Flight delayed? Ride the unicorn.
In that spirit, I give you a meteor. Its sound may not quite be like the Giants of mythology or Paul Bunyan wrassling with his ox, but it is something that can be imagined as powerful. Its light may not have taken the world, but it has illuminated something, a brief, intense flare of great beauty. Perhaps it will spark some of that childlike wonder in you.
October 8, 2008 at 9:08 am (Uncategorized)
Tags: books, dreams, fancy, imagination, movies, story, tale
It’s rare that I get excited about a new book coming out. It’s even more rare that I get excited about a book from an author I’ve never read. And yet, here I am, excited.
Perhaps it’s the season. Anything called The Graveyard Book seems somehow seasonally appropriate. Perhaps it has something to do with the synopsis of the book, which reads like a children’s book. I love children’s books, and I can see countless libraries shelving this one in the YA section. Perhaps it has to do with the promotion tour for the book, which involves reading a chapter of the book in cemeteries and graveyards around the country, which I find moving. Perhaps it’s the fact that each reading is accessible for free on the author’s website, meaning you can hear the whole thing before you buy it. All pretty awesome stuff.
But wait, there’s more. The author, Neil Gaiman, is also the writer of one Stardust upon which a movie was based. A movie with a wonderful cast that I happened to enjoy immensely. Although I haven’t read the book, the movie was delightful. The plot was fanciful enough that I know I will enjoy other books by the same author. I may not know his writing style (yet), but from what I do know, I’m sure it will be a delight.
April 11, 2008 at 9:27 am (Uncategorized)
Tags: beauty, disability, garden, imagination
Sometimes it takes only a moment, or image, sound, or smell to remind you of a dream you had long forgotten. For me, it took last night’s crazy dreams to remind me of the garden I had at one time hoped to create. Sometimes it takes people under curses, tiny monkeys, 17th century ghosts and defending yourself with pointy rubberized action figures to shock you out of the humdrum of everyday existence. Whatever it takes, there are moments at which our fondest dreams rush back to us all at once with a familiar sigh.
For me, one of these dreams has been a garden, artistic in form and intent, that would be truly accessible for all. I do not yet have a name for this place, a name for what this garden might be, but occasionally flashes of it come back to me. I hear the sound of windchimes – metallic, shell and wood. I smell the distinct notes of flowers, each exuding its aura from a different direction, mingling gently with the prevailing breeze. I am led not only by paths beneath my feet, but by waves of color, the softness of a particular type of grass, the desire to touch the spiky hairs of some unknown moss. An though many of the logistical issues remain unanswered (how to make roses touchable to the blind? how to make walkways texturally interesting for the feet, but not difficult for the wheelchair? how to include more tactile experience without compromising safety or legal regulations? How to include taste?), it is these questions in particular which lead me to re-envision this dream.
It’s not exactly a new idea. Gardens for the visually impaired have been around since at least the 70s and probably longer. A touch and smell garden opened in India in 2001 and another in Augusta in 2005. A ‘Garden of Five Senses’ was begun in 2003, also in India. Yet all of these seem to leave something wanting. Do these gardens for the visually impaired truly address the needs of those without hearing? Does a garden of the five senses draw in those who don’t have the use of their legs in the same way it draws in those who do? Can it? Hopefully someday I’ll have the master plan for one that does, and be able to implement it.
March 20, 2008 at 10:06 am (Uncategorized)
Tags: imagination, life, story
The current market downturn can be seen as a shortage of lending, or the inability of businesses to get the money they require to do business. Recently for myself there seems to be a shortage of time instead. It seems no matter how little I plan myself, other people are always expecting me to do things. In addition, even the ‘free’ time I have seems to somehow disappear. The apartment is a mess, last night was the first time I did laundry in about two weeks, and I have about 50 secret projects I’m supposed to be finishing up while Mike is away. Sometimes it has me asking myself why I ever say yes to anything, but I do like to keep busy.
The Latin phrase of the title and I have had an interesting history. The first time I ever saw it was as the title of a short story for one of my roommates’ creative writing classes. I knew that ‘tempus’ meant ‘time’ in Latin, but I wasn’t sure about the second word. What could ‘fugit’ be? Obviously, the Latin word for ‘fudge’. I envisioned a weird dessert of those ancient concrete-aqueduct builders that allowed them to travel through time. Yum. When I was told that ‘fugit’ actually meant ‘flies’, my little daydream was further expanded. Now I had time travel fudge that was self-propelled through the air. What a great idea!
I never read the associated short story the title came with. My friend Kate said it was boring, and I didn’t want it to foil my own fantastical imaginings. I wonder what it was about?
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go see if I can mess with my bosses’ picture using the free software I probably wasn’t supposed to download onto my work computer. I’m a very busy person, you see.