Your mind as a scrapbook

How do you remember and transcript your life?  I’m still advocating for oral traditions in our family.  The start and anchor of this is that the children are all named after grandparents.  This is in line with many traditions that the spirit of a loved one only lives on as long as your story is still being told.   Because my personal long term memory has flaws, I am working now to help the children recognize and tell their stories.  It is an art.  Their lives and connections are strengthened as we bring forward and highlight the everyday for the magic that exists within it.

Let me describe a day this summer:

I had Monday’s off, and Sarah decided to join me for the day.  When I asked what we would be up to, she responded with a simple request: “I want MrB to have an adventure today.” At first, I was a little put off… what am I? A trained monkey? Providing adventure when adventure is requested?  And then I stepped back and said: You are right, we SHOULD have an adventure.  So, we packed a picnic and grabbed our fishing poles.  An adventure we would have. 

It started out a little slow. 

 I didn’t even bring bait for fishing. I had no illusions that 5 kids 6yo and under were going to be effective fisher-people, even with the best bait. It was really about the experience. We needed an activity that asked the kids to look outward, to imagine what is happening under the water. Let’s “go fishing.” My choice to not bring bait was also reinforced by my memory of the last time we went fishing. Simply put, I forgot to explain the fishing experience from start to finish. In the original fishing trip, we baited the hook, dropped it off a very active dock and reeled in a Sunny. This was much to the horror of my then 4yo. Ms.A looked at me with wild eyes. You see, I said we would catch a fish, but I didn’t explain that we would rip this animal from its native habitat complete with its imperfections and then allow it to die in our presence. Right there on the dock. The fish flipped. It flopped. She was not having it. She Ms.A cried and made me promise to undo what had been done. We did. We threw the fish back and talked about the importance of asking further questions like: “what do you mean by catch a fish?” I was not falling for this again. On this July day, I relied on the ritual of fishing to inform the experience. I was not disappointed.

Bobbers went flying, poles fell apart, someone got a hook in their hand. Five kids, 6 and under. All of this will happen and much can go wrong with this scenario. Well, kids watched for a few moments, but quickly came to the moment when someone needed to haul in something from the lake. The kidlets were getting restless. I saw a crayfish floating in the seaweed. I reached down and grabbed that and put it on the bench. Great. A mini-lobster for studying. I went from this serendipitous find to turn quickly around and someone and find that someone has cast and a caught the hook in a tree. I pull, wiggle and shake. I contemplate pulling that dang thing, breaking the line… but I don’t have a lot of equipment. This would force the end of the adventure.

In the absence of brute force, I did the next natural thing: I sent a kid up the tree. Ms. A didn’t see anything strange about my request that she shimmy up the tree like she was chasing a coconut. The strange thing? She made it quite far. She got up higher than my arm could reach her. No branches, just a slanted trunk and the sideways feet and a good pull, shimmy technique. I was so curious how she knew just what to do… but even she got nervous. She asked if she could come down without retrieving the hook. I could only say yes. I was even nervous for her. 

What next… what next? Of course! I climb the tree. I have a few monkey skills myself.  I set out to scale this tree. Thankfully I am much taller than a 5yo. Also thankfully that there were a few trees that I could use to shimmy my way up between two different trees to release this pole and the jig.  I was informed that the poor jig was scared of heights.  I have to save him!












 Time to move on.Kids up trees, crayfish and seaweed catching wasn’t holding interest anymore. Thankfully, we picked one of my favorite spots.The park has sculptures randomly located throughout the park.These sculptures not only blend art and nature, but they serve as greattransitions to the next activity.SCAVENGER HUNT!





After visiting the Crane, the pirate ship, a bronze picnic cooler, and even a canoe shaped fire ring, we made it up to the park building and found an art display. Do you know who was showing? Me neither. But it was amazing. The artist had recreated animals out of recycled STUFF. Junk. Garage sale stuff. Everything. So we have my little hoarder Ms.B fascinated. The other girls are running, exploring, loving the look-and-see with all the mixed objects. Roller skate for an eye, ski poles for a wing; Even a motorboat for the face of a pelican. It was great, accessible art with items that were recognizable. B is looking, analyzing, commenting. You know what happens next? The artist comes around the corner. He talks with B. He shares his vision, inspiration and future work. He explains that he got the inspiration from cleaning out his mom’s garage. He found stuff that wasn’t entirely useful as is, but could be something. The junk told him it WANTED to be something. It certainly wasn’t GARBAGE. Certainly not that! He was speaking straight to her heart. The artist told the girls that they gave him the most feedback, and noticed the intentional aspects of his arts in a way that no one had discussed with him previously. What a strong compliment and reminder that you are and should talk about the stuff that is interesting to you.

Transition time again. We head outside to find just what we needed. A GIANT NUMBER 5.

 Now why did we need this? Well, we were weeks before a young lady’s 5^th b-day of course. Why did the park have a 5? Unsure. Of all of the girls in our family, how could it be that she was the next b-day coming? She was the one who needed a 5. No one knows how this confluence of events came about. But they did. And we photo’d. A asks how I knew that this would be here for her. I admit that I didn’t. I wanted to take a special picture for her b-day invite, but I didn’t know what it would be. We just came and somehow, the answer found us. In a 5yo eyes, there is only one answer: Magic. The fairies knew she had come and carried that 5 and placed it right there. Simple. There is only one explanation. So this is where you reach the choice: do you squelch that? Explain your theory? Ask

the park why it is? Nah, I chose to help her tell that story to others over the course of the next few weeks. I chose to support her in telling this story. Solidifying this memory. The magic of feeling like a whole entire troop of fairies came along and lifted a HUGE number 5 just for her. Just for her b-day.

 

We haven’t even had lunch yet, and the magic was everywhere. The day wasn’t done. I still had to catch a fish with my bare hands. That’s right. I came to the park but wasn’t committed to catching the fish on a pole; but somehow decided that we needed to have a fish. I became particularly interested in this once I heard the kids in the water at the swimming beach squealing over a fish near them. I went over and reached in and grabbed that little sucker. That’s right. I caught a fish with my bare hands. This is when Sarah snaps in and says “I know just how you are going to tell this story. This is the part where you, ‘Amazing Sareen’catch a fish with your own two hands.” Of course that is how the story goes because that is what happened. I could tell you that the fish was a little ill. I could tell you that I was only ankle deep and the fish was a minnow. Those are also true facts as well. And they should be pretty obvious given the difficulty of the described task. I grabbed the fish. We held it. Talked about it and then tossed him into deeper water. You know what? I didn’t see him again. He.swam.away. He needed our help.

So, yes… there were conditions that assisted the story, but I don’t need to share the parts that discount the magic.  I want to highlight, elevate and celebrate in the world the part of the day that highlights magic.  A strength and force beyond what we can control on a day to day basis.  In our family, a story needs to hook your imagination.  It needs to highlight, wherever possible, the magic that exists in daily life.  You can climb a tree like a monkey chasing a coconut.  You could sit in a canoe with only kids 6 and under with a fire (which is what was reported to papa).  You can find a mini lobster small enough to feed fairies.  You can meet the artist of your dreams. Find a 5 sculpture carried by those fairies just for your birthday.  And, if you are fishing and don’t catch anything, your mom can just reach into the lake and pick out a fish just for you.  Just another day in the life of our family.  

Storytelling is an art.  Living a life of magic is an art.  Framing your day to weed out the negative and elevate the positive. It takes practice.  Our family can see the magic. We practice to see every day experiences as something extraordinary. I strive to help them to see that the world is full of every and any possibility.  Kids don’t always connect the dots. They don’t know what might be a once in a life time thing vs. what is an everyday experience.  They remind us to see miracles in things we have become numb to.   To me, “having an adventure” means to suspend cynicism and allow the day to happen as it will.  To embrace the magic that exists in our everyday lives and to share that story with everyone and anyone who can listen.