Thus have I heard...

Came late into Jamie Ridler's Wreck This Journal book blogging group. I told my friend Julie in Boston I would do it with her, something to share across the distance, or on a boring Friday night. I flipped through it in the bookstore and said to myself, "I can take you."

That I should have to put up such an aggressive front before an inanimate art project *probably* tells you that I was actually kind of nervous. I guess I don't think of myself as a "craft person," or an "art person" (whatever that means). I haven't touched a crayon or colored pencil in years. Deliberately breaking a book also seemed kind of unnatural, sacrilegious even.

I read Victoria Brouhard's blog post about her first week trying to wreck this journal and her inaugural wrecking activity of poking holes in the page. I laughed out loud at the "bonus hole" caption, knowing my first stab (pardon the pun) at journal wrecking would be just as earnest. Because like Victoria, I too felt like I'd forgotten how to play.

I've achieved plenty of peace and contentment in my life mostly thanks to my Buddhist practice, but I can't really remember the last time I was truly thrilled, or giddy, the last time I was totally immersed in a game or just let loose. Yeah, I know I'm in my 20's. WTF right? Prematurely middle-aged - what can I say? My innate introversion was exacerbated by almost a total lack of childhood playmates. This resulted in plenty of time alone and a cripplingly awkward adolescence spent pondering deep issues of existential philosophy. That's one rough theory anyway. (On the bright side, at this rate my golden years should start right around my 40's...)

I was talking to a friend about how, as children, we used to make it a point to be upside down. Hanging from a bar, or dangling off the couch, there were just times when nothing else was more appropriate. And then, at a certain point, we started staying upright all the time. So what if I started to make it a point again to be upside down once in a while? With my perspective literally altered, what possibilities might I then perceive? Would I begin to invert former beliefs? Could I shake out the loose change of my less adaptive mental patterns, with feet pointing to the sky? Thus I mused...

But the seeds of those notions have been germinating since that conversation. It was at a weekend picnic that I was reminded, when my friend Erica invited me to attempt handstands with her in the grass. Cautiously, I brought my hands to the ground and kicked up my legs. Not far at first, but each time I tried to get them up a little higher. It felt dangerous, a bit subversive, potentially enlightening. I kept at it until the lunch sitting in my belly told me to stop (which wasn't very long unfortunately). But it was grand. I could feel the edges of giddiness. Note to self: right-side up is for fogeys.

So that's why I decided to start wrecking this journal. It seemed a very symbolic, potentially therapeutic project to begin working towards greater playfulness (which by the way, is NOT a very fun way to think about it). As predicted, my initial attempts were...lacking gusto. I poked some holes too, scratched a page with a sharp nail file, scribbled on another page - with a Plain Black Pen :-\ My heart wasn't quite in it. I thought it was kind of stupid. I paid money for this? This isn't fun.

That was the inner grump talking (remember? prematurely old?). I could smell the sour grape attitude. Why? Because I was supposed to have fun. Clearly, I wasn't wrecking my journal right.

Stupid grump. HOW DO YOU WRECK SOMETHING WRONG??? I suppose this is exactly why Jamie's first video was all about permission.

Later, I tied a string around my journal and started beating it ruthlessly against a tree until I was chipping bark, denting the spine and scaring my tiny Asian grandmother. Then, I baptized it in my backyard pond. It's still drying, but when it's done, I think I'll be ready for colors.

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