I have always had an undeniable pleasure in playing in the mud. Not dirt, mind you, but the squishy, aqueous, gooey stuff that happens when you mix water with it. It's like a cake batter: you have the basic dry starter ingredient, then you start adding to it. Once the consistency is rich and full with chunks and bits of other things, then you add some magical water to it, and mold it into a pliable batter of your choosing. As a child I would lose myself for hours adding drips, bloops, splashes and dollups of water to my concoctions, depending on the consistency I was looking for: hearty griddle-worthy pancakes or nasty, slimy, drippy syrupy things of disgusting non-edible bliss. Lantana berries, grass, mimosa tree blossoms, recently deceased doodle bugs, pebbles, anything to make an interesting melange of wonder-filled cakes was my aim. Taste wasn't an option, so consistency, content and color were the point. The more texture, i.e., disgusting in its ingredients, the better.
It's so easy to fuss about how something looks to the eye; whether it's appealing or lovely.. or not. Creativity is not always appealing or lovely to the eye. It sometimes has odd colors; it's drippy or spongey or appears as a thick cake made of dark, suspicious ingredients, all made by someone who was going for some simple, gooey, lucious, cool feeling of a muddy mound of wonderfulness. Most of the time they made it not to share with anyone at all. All they had to do was to add a little water to some ordinary earthly stuff, and maybe throw in some possibly complimentary goofy bits of naturally occuring things for texture. Then they had the perfect mudpie. Just for them to relish, or to choose to share with the world.
I'm a performing songwriter and encourager who lives with a very understanding husband named Jeff and a big yellow Lab named Boomer, and a feisty black Lab-ish puppy named Gus, at our WeHope Ranch in New Chapel Hill, TX.
My husband's book on building wealth.
Yes, You can!