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Sometimes artistic productivity needs a break. Sometimes the wheel you are running on needs
some oil, and you need to sit in the car dealership waiting room with an
instant coffee and a good book. Better
yet, sometimes you need to look at the fish.
After a week of writing four more poems for my new poetry
collection, written especially for children, (this will probably take me a year
to finish) and after designing three new necklaces to restock the local gallery
that sells my work, I did exactly this – stare at some fish, some ducks with
their ducklings and some floating lily pads.
It was a delicious two hours, well spent.
It was the second to last day of school, and I wanted to
treat my sons to a scoop of gelato after a blazing hot afternoon at Games Day. After having our refreshing, creamy cups of
pure indulgence, I asked the boys to sit with me under the gazebo. The boardwalk proved more interesting, so we
walked out onto the dock and looked in the water for any swimming
creatures. We found fish! In fact we found many, many fish of all sizes
swimming alone and in schools. We
followed them along the dock, found more fish and kept walking together to the
very end, where the warping planks of wood were in danger of being completely
submerged by water.
We came across a family of ducks - two parents and two
ducklings. My youngest said, “they are
just like us – a family of four.” He
kept repeating this statement in amazement, and when he saw one of the ducklings
swimming too far away from its mother to eat some algae, he said, “swim back to
your mommy, little ducky.” He held my
hand when he said this, then promptly jumped on top of a big rock at the edge
of the water, his sneakers teetering. I
raised my eyebrows.
On the slow walk back, we saw a small, green fish with a
long, flat snout that would rise slowly and then jump out of the water to eat a
bug on the surface. My older son
declared a finding, and asked if he could name this new species. He wanted to claim it as his own, if it was
indeed a brand new kind of fish. Is
there anything new in this world anymore?
Looking into the eyes of my eager son told me that there are still new
things to be found, if we choose to believe.
In the coming weeks, I intend to use the word “vacation” as
an action verb and do it with gusto. I
intend to embark on and enjoy little adventures every day with my two young
sons, now that school is out for the summer.
I intend to make every day count and not fret over whether I am
producing enough new writing, because the productivity frenzy of energy that
often comes over me will return in the quiet moments in between our grand
adventures.
Sometimes you just need to look at the fish. Inspiration comes from everywhere and from nowhere. Never underestimate the white space. Keep looking at the fish.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
