We've all heard stories about inspiration and creativity coming from natural surroundings. Einstein, Dickens, Jobs, Darwin and many other geniuses walked to improve creativity, and it worked. But my question is, where the heck did they walk? Because to be honest, when I take my dog, Nana, for a 30-minute walk, my creativity/writing does not improve.
Normally I think during my walks, but when I would get home, couldn't recall anything I thought about. That's when I decided to try to capture the thoughts that crossed my mind, so I had to pay attention, and this is what happened on the first few seconds as I jogged/walked up the hill from my driveway. My mind raced past all the deep thoughts about the meaning of life to "What color I should paint my kitchen cabinets, some sort of gray, I think, but dark? Will it be too dark?"
Obviously, that's not working, or helping my writing. Focus, Mary.
After I got up the hill, I spent the next four minutes trying to figure out who was that one guy in that one movie. Turns out, I don't remember. And then I saw a squirrel walk across someone's porch. Nothing.
I also told myself that maybe I'll have better luck when I get to the "nature" section of my walk. It worked for Thoreau, right? I hurried along to the place where the walking trail parallels some wooded common ground, and the pedestrian bridge crosses the creek. Lots of nature there.
As I turned right on the trail, I stopped as my dog sniffed an invisible clue to the universe. At that moment I saw a red and white striped umbrella sticking up from a glass patio table on the back deck of a neighbor. And that's when it it hit me, the question we all want to know (insert angel chorus here): "Where did stripes come from?"
Ok, not the greatest scientific question, but it's a start. And the original answer comes from nature, which also is the original idea behind the interconnectedness of all things, because I was now on the trail right next to NATURE! This is obviously working. And if you are interested in stripes, I did look it up and there are some interesting facts, especially if you consider symbolism: think criminals, prostitutes and court jesters, which I may be able to use later. Here's a link:
http://fashion-history.lovetoknow.com/fabrics-fibers/striped-cloth
I knew then I was on my way. After calming down about stripes, it happened again (angel choir encore). A squirrel ran across an empty retaining pond. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I couldn't help but notice the difference between the way the squirrel walked across the porch earlier, and how the body and tail of this squirrel formed these little arcs or waves as it sprinted.
I think I may have something here, so I looked up squirrel tail waves when I got home and got a lot of hits about waves and physics, which included algebraic equations. I also found information about how squirrels "wave" with their tails, usually a warning sign that they are annoyed. And most of the other wave stuff was about water. Nothing about the kind of squirrel arc/waves I was talking about.
So while Einstein has his theory of relativity, I now have the theory of squirrel arcs/waves. I can't explain it mathematically, or relate it to anything that matters, like proving life on Mars, or that time exists, but I might be able to use this in my writing.
So, thank you, future Nobel Prize committee for recognizing my discovery of squirrel arcs/waves, and the use of stripes as symbolism in literature. I couldn't have done it without paying attention during my walks.
Mary Horner is the author of Strengthen Your Nonfiction Writing, and teaches communications at St. Louis and St. Charles Community Colleges. Her story "Shirley and the Apricot Tree" is being published this month by Kansas City Voices.
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Normally I think during my walks, but when I would get home, couldn't recall anything I thought about. That's when I decided to try to capture the thoughts that crossed my mind, so I had to pay attention, and this is what happened on the first few seconds as I jogged/walked up the hill from my driveway. My mind raced past all the deep thoughts about the meaning of life to "What color I should paint my kitchen cabinets, some sort of gray, I think, but dark? Will it be too dark?"
Obviously, that's not working, or helping my writing. Focus, Mary.
After I got up the hill, I spent the next four minutes trying to figure out who was that one guy in that one movie. Turns out, I don't remember. And then I saw a squirrel walk across someone's porch. Nothing.
I also told myself that maybe I'll have better luck when I get to the "nature" section of my walk. It worked for Thoreau, right? I hurried along to the place where the walking trail parallels some wooded common ground, and the pedestrian bridge crosses the creek. Lots of nature there.
As I turned right on the trail, I stopped as my dog sniffed an invisible clue to the universe. At that moment I saw a red and white striped umbrella sticking up from a glass patio table on the back deck of a neighbor. And that's when it it hit me, the question we all want to know (insert angel chorus here): "Where did stripes come from?"
Ok, not the greatest scientific question, but it's a start. And the original answer comes from nature, which also is the original idea behind the interconnectedness of all things, because I was now on the trail right next to NATURE! This is obviously working. And if you are interested in stripes, I did look it up and there are some interesting facts, especially if you consider symbolism: think criminals, prostitutes and court jesters, which I may be able to use later. Here's a link:
http://fashion-history.lovetoknow.com/fabrics-fibers/striped-cloth
I knew then I was on my way. After calming down about stripes, it happened again (angel choir encore). A squirrel ran across an empty retaining pond. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I couldn't help but notice the difference between the way the squirrel walked across the porch earlier, and how the body and tail of this squirrel formed these little arcs or waves as it sprinted.
I think I may have something here, so I looked up squirrel tail waves when I got home and got a lot of hits about waves and physics, which included algebraic equations. I also found information about how squirrels "wave" with their tails, usually a warning sign that they are annoyed. And most of the other wave stuff was about water. Nothing about the kind of squirrel arc/waves I was talking about.
So while Einstein has his theory of relativity, I now have the theory of squirrel arcs/waves. I can't explain it mathematically, or relate it to anything that matters, like proving life on Mars, or that time exists, but I might be able to use this in my writing.
So, thank you, future Nobel Prize committee for recognizing my discovery of squirrel arcs/waves, and the use of stripes as symbolism in literature. I couldn't have done it without paying attention during my walks.
Mary Horner is the author of Strengthen Your Nonfiction Writing, and teaches communications at St. Louis and St. Charles Community Colleges. Her story "Shirley and the Apricot Tree" is being published this month by Kansas City Voices.
