Doodles and Scribbles

Yesterday evening was wonderful.
The work day had lasted eight hours too long. The sunshine had been tempting me through the blinds (that my coworkers repeatedly close, so only stripes of light get through). Someone had turned the thermostat up to 75 degrees... I had office fever. And when 3pm rolled around, I bolted out of the building.
I rolled down my window. Turned up the music. Drove home with my arm hanging out the window and got things ready for dinner.
I spent half an hour on the phone with an old friend.
I ate a good dinner with my roommate.
And then we drove to the park.
We were outside for hours. Walking laps around the park... slowly, but deliberately. Only stopping to smoke cigars she had brought home from Seattle.
We drove away with the windows down and went to Coffee Times to get drinks. We sat down at a table together and a book on the shelf behind me caught my eye.
"The Very Giant Book of Doodles". Taro Gomi.
I opened it.
It was a very giant book of doodles.
Not your average coloring book.
There were animals. The instructions were to put clothes on them. There were people with dialog bubbles. "What are these people saying?"
I turned the page.
Most of the page was black. "What is in the grass?"
There was a page with a squiggly line.
"This is a mountain. Draw a mountain climber."
And for some reason... I almost started crying.
Turned one more page.
It was blank.
"Draw something beautiful."
I almost bought the book. A twenty dollar coloring book. Somehow, I had been touched by a coloring book! It took me a minute to figure out why.
And then my roommate said something that made me realize.
She made a very offhanded comment on how smart my children would be. How much they would love to learn, how creative they would be.
And I realized how easy a coloring book like this would be for a five year old. When asked to draw something beautiful, he would not sit back and contemplate how to draw something beautifully. Instead, he would pick up a crayon and draw a flower. And it would be beautiful, because flowers are beautiful.
We are too analytical.
Too cynical.
Somewhere in the process of growing up, a wall went up between our brains and our creativity.
We made things complicated.
The beauty of life is in the doodles and scribbles.
I think I may go back and get the book for myself... tear down that wall separating me from my imagination.
And then, one day, when I have kids...
We will sit down with crayons and draw a mountain climber.
And a flower that is beautiful.