"This could go on for some time," my 8-year-old nephew apprised me as the end of the first period of a hockey game came to the end and we waited for the Zamboni to roll out and amuse us for 20 minutes.
"It could, Alex. Make yourself comfortable," I said.
"Want to draw?" I asked as I handed him my Moleskin notebook and a pen.
"Sure. What do you want me to draw?"
"What you like," I said. For no logical reason at that point, I thought I'd explain what I knew of the game. It took three seconds. "When the people around me cheer, I'll cheer. When they boo, I'll boo. It's OK, Aunt Sandy."
When my daughter was a baby, I used to joke that it was a relief to have a girl and be free of the obligation to deal with jock world. I don't understand most field sports, which I see as variations on the backyard game of Keep-Away--itself a misery--with specialized rules and terminology that boggle my mind.
Nine years later, the joke is on me. My daughter plays soccer and basketball and wants to learn volleyball, tennis, and I don't even want to know what else. I do little crafty things on my own to amuse myself during time-outs and half-times. I draw with my nephew, Alex.
Alex, who is about her age, has nary a drop of interest in the world of athletics and is happy to create skits, read books, and watch movies until he knows them off by heart.
The joke painted its own portrait at the game. Adella was so excited to be there that she took my husband's cell phone and, like air traffic control, attempted to bring grandma and grandpa in for the excitement. My younger nephew, Adam, was all over the game. Then there was Alex, who sat beside me. While the game raged on, he created landscapes of every kind--desert scenes, mountain scenes, fishing scenes, Halloween vignettes, Batman. He even played himself at tic-tac-toe and--go figure--won every time.
Alex the artist, the dreamer, the thinker, tranquilly added blue to his artwork when a crayon mysteriously materialized in our ranks while the mommy behind us and her second-grade angel bayed for blood .
We all had a lovely time.
The Sixth Verse of the Tao reflects on the root of creation and says, "The [Creative Spirit] becomes the whole universe," but "her immaculate purity is never lost. Although she assumes countless form, her true identity remains in tact."
There it was in Alex, who was just doing his thing. These days, "feminine" is a freighted word; we could as easily replace it with "creative."
In the chapter of his book, Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life, that reflects on this verse, author Wayne Dyer suggests: "Today, notice babies and small children. Look for the mysterious feminine nature in little boys and girls who haven't yet become so attuned to cultural and societal demands that their true selves are hidden. Can you see some whose inherent nature is intact?"
Yes, sir, I can. He caught a fish at the hockey game. Batman was there, too.
I enjoy this time of year because I can see the shapes of the trees and the vast network of branches as well as the sky. I love it the freedom, the movement, and the vastness of space as much as I love trees in full leaf.
