When i read an article in the “Mindful” magazine*, the question “What was your favorite creative activity as a child?” drew my attention. Most frequent answers to this questions were:
“Making clothes for my doll from scraps of fabric.
I loved rummaging for scraps and still do!”
“When I was supposed to nap, I would jump on the bed and make ridges and valleys in my quilt. Then I would sit quietly and imagine towns and people living between the ‘mountains.’ (I’m from Colorado.)”
“Needlework and cooking with my grandmother.”
“Making a ‘radio show’ with a tape recorder and my siblings.”
“Putting on plays.”
“Melting crayons,building bricks with the melted wax, and building cities with the wax bricks.”
Nr 4 flashed childhood memories of my grandmother. Happy memories. Warm memories. My hand and her hand mixing the dough. Clothes covered by white flour. The floor covered by flour. The trail to the stone oven she built herself in the courtyard. The smell of freshly baked bread she divided between me and my cousins with her strong and beautiful hands. Her smile as she watched us eat. Her mindful presence and the safe world it opened.
In the quest of creativity, the mind tends to get sophisticated. Yet:
*The article appeared in the June 2017 issue of Mindful magazine.