Flowing

Posted on April 3, 2009 in Originality & Creativity Zoos

A cloud ran into our hilltop last night and left a slick of rain that weak sunlight and gravity pulled off the pavement by noon. I opened the front door to a chill pushed by a gentle wind. Fiona stuck her nose out for the briefest of moments, satisfying herself that the outdoors was not for her. I passed a yellow lily growing in a clay bowl on the porch. The stairs invited me to a further exploration of the cool world. I tugged at the hem of my camouflage green pullover and stepped down the flight without-much thought to the individual puttings-of-the-foot-forward. I flowed to the street.

While the drizzle still wet the streets, I complained to my Twitter friends that I felt like there was a numbing hole in the top of my head. I identified this as exhaustion from creation, but in retrospect I think it was exhaustion from the lack of creation — interruption of the flow. At the zoo, I had struggled to capture shadows and colors in my camera for the first hour without much success. Then I found my eye while pursuing the hues of brown on the back of a grizzly bear. The fur ranged from beiges to sincere browns to gold. I snapped several shots until the bear and I connected. A brief climb took me to Elephant Mesa where I interviewed meerkats who stared up the open tube of my camera, still trying to figure out the strange box that hundreds directed toward them every day.

Every day the same thing a novelty — that is a goal for life isn’t it? Without brain damage, though, it can’t be achieved by humans. Zoos excite us, I think, because they proffer a break from cubicles and bucket seats, an opening of new enclosures. I ignore boundaries as I go or I just forget to sense them. When I get to the tedious start-stop process of uploading photos which is rife with borders, despair cages me. I see a drastic end to things. The stairs lead to a blind alley and I break my nose on the wall that greets me there.