Henry David Thoreau was big back in the 1970’s. I remember plastering my high school notebooks with his sayings and thinking it cool to march to a different drummer, whether near or far away. The saying that remains meaningful past the rush of a young bohemian wanna be and into middle age is that most people lead lives of quiet desperation. Sadly, I find that still true. (Sadder still when it applies to me.)
That young bohemian did work in a garden (her family’s) and build cabins, not by a pond but in an old growth pine forest. The cabins were usually too “buggy” to actually play in but the fun was in the planning and construction. Once one was finished another was immediately in the works. Months, years, passed and the branches fell in and pine needles dropped into piles on the ground. When I walked back through the woods looking for the cabins I found only ruins. But I felt no nostalgia. I only remembered the pleasure of imagining and creating.
As a kid playing in the woods I never dreamed of being a writer. Those same processes of imagination and creativity that were evident then I call on now. But all too often I allow my imagination to curl up from misuse and disuse and I wonder why I can’t write. I have forgotten that God took pleasure in what He created and that I can do the same. His world is calling; it’s a bit bigger than those old pine woods. This kid needs to get out and see what other cabins she can build.