An observation at the playground

I was sitting on a bench with my sketchbook, in the shade under what I think was a large western cedar and a sweetgum tree.

Two little girls wandered by, perhaps 5 years old. One was picking up twigs from the ground, talking to her friend about "fire sticks". The other girl was reaching up to the cedar branches and pulling some greenery from it. She looked at me and said she was making a salad. She asked her friend if they needed grass, too. The other girl said yes, for the soup.

Kids seem to effortlessly slip into the world of imagination and make believe. They are utterly in the present moment, with no care for "reality" until their caregiver says it's time to go home.

As adults, there's so much chatter in our heads it's so hard to slip into that world. So hard, we have a word for it, "flow", when we are so focused on what we are doing it becomes a new reality for us in the moment.

In contrast: I observed a small group of boys, perhaps age 6-8, taking turns with a bat as a man pitched plastic baseballs at them. One boy couldn't hit the ball after several tries and got really frustrated. He walked away, despondent, slumped on the sidewalk. One of his parents talked to him for a while. That child (unlike the two girls) was not feeling carefree and playful.

I had a feeling of deep sympathy for that boy. At 51 yo, I sometimes feel despondent at being unable to achieve my ambitions. Other times, I remember that it takes practice and faith to continue practicing.

I want to approach my art (music) with a mix of the boy's ambition that exceeds his reach, and the girls' in-the-moment playfulness. Sometimes I think I manage to do that. I have started using a dedicated practice space and that had made a difference. It's a place where I am free to do anything for as long as I want to.