Topic: Writing with Freedom
“As once the wingéd energy of delight / carried you over childhood’s dark abysses, now beyond your own life build the great arch / of unimagined bridges.” –Rainer Maria Rilke
There is a pure and shining glory in the world of my 2-year-old daughter, Tess. It is called a bus, a “big, big bus,” to be exact.
There is absolutely no greater joy, no surprise more full, no moment so fantastic as that sheer moment of ecstasy and full body wonder when Tess sees a bus. Like someone with short-term memory loss, each one is her first: “WOW!!! A BUS!!!” she says with every fiber of her being. “A BIG, BIG BUS!” she further elucidates. To be so small, she has quite the lung power, a voice that carries for quite some distance, making heads turn in her wake.
There is a close second to Bus Joy when we approach the “TUNNEL, the big, big TUNNEL!” but even that pales in comparison to the bus. Then, of course, there is the penultimate thrill of the TRUCK, THE BIG, BIG, TRUCK or THE BIG RED FIRETRUCK or the ICE CREAM TRUCK or HAPPY TRUCK or BIG HUGE TRUCK, a very loud announcement made many times each day and complicated only slightly by the fact that every “tr” in her noisy vocabulary is rendered as an “f”. You do the math. We cut quite a figure in the produce aisle of the local Ingles or Post Office when she hears a “great big fire truck” go past, announcing it to the surprised masses.
Being around someone who is 36 inches tall is a Ph.D. in exuberance, full and unmeasured, joy without bound, face and eyes lit up with amazement and pure, pure joy. It is a joy we all know – before we divide ourselves and wall off the part we keep to ourselves, the part we hide for fear of ridicule.
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One of the stages of any creative enterprise is to flip flop categories and to stretch opposites into new relationships. As you will hear in the song and the poem… books take flight and dreams can be dreamed without censure. Here are questions that can be asked
- Why am I me, and why not you?
- Why am I here, and why not there?
- When did time begin, and where does space end?
- Is life under the sun not just a dream?