Most of the time, I trend toward all things autoschediastic (loosey goosey). My eighth grade basketball coach used to call it Hully Gully. I can see him now…somewhere in the neighborhood of 120 years old, surely he’s still holding out his trembling hand and insisting that his great grandchildren “knock off all the Hully Gully.” I’m sure he simply meant that our unorchestrated efforts at basketball appeared to him like so much indignant gyration that he preferred we run the offense in the manner he had tediously drawn it up. (Personally, I think a bunch of eighth graders capable of executing the Hully Gully is praiseworthy.)
Anywho, I think most of us have a natural tendency toward either the well-structured or the extemporized. In my two sons, this is exhibited perfectly in how they play with Lego. My oldest son looks up a set of instructions on the iPad before embarking on a new build. (Granted, he will depart from the instructions whenever a specific piece does not present itself forthwith. But that’s more of a conflict between his need for expediency competing with his need for structure.)
My youngest son, on the other hand, inevitably chooses to embark on blind builds. With no instructions whatsoever, he sets out with nothing more than a loose visual concept of what he wants to achieve. The result is that my older son’s creations tend to be much more developed, while my younger son’s creations tend to look like flying blobs or blocks on wheels. Or at least, that was the case until recently.
The difficulty of going off script is that you have to first develop a proficiency with the medium that enables you to create a comprehensible script ad hoc. It’s unnerving to say the least. But when successful, it’s a rush like no other. When you pull off a public presentation with nothing more than five minutes of preparation, some glitter glue, and a laser pointer, that’s an enduring high. But that sort of success doesn’t come without failure.
I’m pretty good at cutting my own hair. But I didn’t get to this point without less than twenty-eight ridiculous haircuts. Perhaps I could have taken a class on hair-cutting and read through a how to manual before embarking on that first adventurous trim. In all likelihood, this informed approach would have reduced the number of nightmare cuts to under a dozen. Meh. That’s not how I roll. Instead, I bought a pair of clippers at Walmart and used the communal mirror and sink on the fourth floor of Aber Hall to guess my way through the process.
The point (I think) is that despite our tendencies, we will all arrive at the same level of proficiency eventually…if we are willing to follow the process through. But there are pitfalls for both groups. My youngest son will need to watch out for his tendency to quit new disciplines early on—when they yield naught but amorphous blobs and nightmarish mistakes. My oldest son will need to watch that he doesn’t remain satisfied with textbook tactics and results. After he is proficient within a medium he must yet trust his creative spark to do something unique within that medium.
Maybe the two brothers can even help each other grow along the way. One encouraging the other to endure and the other helping the former to risk. Perhaps the final result will amount to something akin to the Hully Gully. I’m perfectly okay with that.
At the Desk This Week
Just in case you actually read this section, I’ll confess that I’m still metaphorically wandering. I’m doing a lot of reading. Some prayer and meditating. Lending a helping hand when the opportunity presents. And enjoying opportunities to muddy the water and perhaps stir up a little tension here and there. Recently, I’ve been thinking of my friends in Ukraine. Just when I think the world won’t get any crazier, that’s exactly what it does. As a species we really do spend all too much time despising each other and setting about to do magnificent harm…somehow in the name of justice, or writing wrongs, or vindication. But there’s always a bigger dog. Always.
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