If only we stayed as curious as children
Just watching my granddaughter puzzle out how things work makes me smile.
With toys, computers, or her mother's digital camera, she wants to know all the variations the object is capable of performing. And then she experiments. What does the world look like when the camera is upside down, closer, farther way. Which toys float and which do not? How does one peel an orange or open up a small, individual pack of Gouda cheese? The red covering of the cheese fits on one's nose, one's ear, on the end of a crayon, did you know?
Writers, I think maintain some of this curiosity. So, too, with artists, actors, musicians--how many ways can one improvise on what is or what might be?
There's unconcerned innocence in my granddaughter's improvisation, for while she knows that certain actions make things break, she isn't to the point of anticipating what untried actions might also be dangerous in some way.
Unfortunately, we give up some of our innocent play when we ldearn to think ahead and consider the consequences of one thing vs. another thing. A necessary step, I suppose, but we give up so much when we finally take it.
How dull life can seem without the what if of a writer, a painter or a child. I like watching my granddaughter's what if play because it reminds me of how I was--and of how I can be for short periods of time when I write.
With toys, computers, or her mother's digital camera, she wants to know all the variations the object is capable of performing. And then she experiments. What does the world look like when the camera is upside down, closer, farther way. Which toys float and which do not? How does one peel an orange or open up a small, individual pack of Gouda cheese? The red covering of the cheese fits on one's nose, one's ear, on the end of a crayon, did you know?
Writers, I think maintain some of this curiosity. So, too, with artists, actors, musicians--how many ways can one improvise on what is or what might be?
There's unconcerned innocence in my granddaughter's improvisation, for while she knows that certain actions make things break, she isn't to the point of anticipating what untried actions might also be dangerous in some way.
Unfortunately, we give up some of our innocent play when we ldearn to think ahead and consider the consequences of one thing vs. another thing. A necessary step, I suppose, but we give up so much when we finally take it.
How dull life can seem without the what if of a writer, a painter or a child. I like watching my granddaughter's what if play because it reminds me of how I was--and of how I can be for short periods of time when I write.
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