Creativity | Imagination | Journaling
Naive Curiosity
A Gecko, a Cat, and a Little Girl
It’s mid-morning, and I sit outside on my lanai engulfed in the beautiful landscape surrounding my yard as I begin my mind dump into my journal. I find myself having a series of experiences that propel one thought through my mind in a circular fashion. I’m writing away, trying not to pay any mind to my hand, which is cramping up. The sound of an urgent tapping across the table distracts me for a moment.
It’s a little green gecko hastily moving toward me, though it is hesitant to come closer. Staring at the invasive species from Madagascar, I slowly extend my finger as a peace offering. The gecko flinches and jumps back.
Seconds later, the green lizard comes to inspect my finger and starts licking it. I’m surprised at how brave this creature is. Most of them don’t get this close.
With a subtle movement, I accidentally spook the gecko and it retreats to the other side of the table. Focusing back on my pocket size notebook, I continue writing vigorously. Until my cat catches my attention.
He is making the sound he does when his friend, the neighbor’s cat, is outside. It’s a cute little meow that sounds loving and sincere. He wants to play with his pal.
I find it funny that my cat acts this way around the kitten next door. When I found him as a stray, he fought off every local tom cat. This is the same feline, who, just the other day, fell out of my second story window, got attacked by a cat across the street, and spent the next two hours chasing leaves outside like nothing happened.
He continues to perplex me on a daily basis with his sporadic behavior. One of his favorite pastimes is staring into fire. He routinely gets so close to a candle flame, that I question if he is going to attempt to swallow it whole.
Abandoning this train of thought, I resume scribbling in my journal. Then, I overhear my neighbor talking to his daughter about their ducks that live in our shared backyard. They just finished setting up a baby pool with a water feature for the ducks to enjoy.
As their primary caretaker, my neighbor’s daughter absolutely adores these ducks. She first instructs her pet birds on the pool rules, then she says something to one of the ducks that makes me chuckle: “You are a duck, and I am a human.”
The remark comes seemingly out of nowhere. I am delighted by the tone of her voice — it’s innocent and matter-of-fact. This gets me thinking about life through a child’s eyes.
Like a sponge, kids soak up anything and everything they hear. It’s sort of uncanny how well they pick up on things you don’t think they are listening to and come up with ideas you’ve never even considered.
Nevertheless, the little girl’s remarks are pure and genuine. I’ve spent enough time around kids to know they aren’t always sweet. Like a friend who has had too many drinks, kids can be sour fools too.
My intention is to not disparage innocent kiddos or muddy the pure waters of childhood wonder. Kids are great, however I don’t aim to glorify the perspective of a child either. Just like the little girl stated, “[They] are human.”
Another quality to note, neither good nor bad, is that kids have an unending curiosity. Like my cat or the gecko, they are curious fools. What I mean to say is that they exemplify a certain naïveté that curiosity thrives on.
Creativity is curiosity’s cuter cousin. Being curious strikes a creative spark of imagination in the eye of the beholder. With it, a plethora of perspectives bloom into colorful petals never seen dressed over such distinct stems and lively leaves.
I have no idea what the value or take away of this bite sized piece of knowledge is. It only came to me as I journaled. Perhaps, it’s that an artist must retain a level of curiosity and naïveté in order to prevent themselves from creating the same piece of work over and over again.
This analysis is clearly influenced by the residue left clinging to the pipes of my subconscious. My time journaling only washed away the recent passages I’ve read, conversations I’ve had, and thoughts traveling around my mind. I’m left with a dirty puddle of water — preconceived notions and current perspectives.
The journaling practice did its job. I finished feeling as if I just scrubbed the creases of my brain with a toothbrush. Although this observation is significant to me, I’m curious if you have the same perspective.