Tabula Rasa

Sometimes I get to thinking about something and can't seem to come to a conclusion.  Z made this the other day:

I sincerely do not know what this is.  I know it was deliberate (he took about forty-five minutes doing it, sort of grumbling a bit when it didn't stand up right).  I know I like it.  I know he was proud of it, but, I still don't know what it is.

Could it be a boy warming his back to golden sun rising behind him?

Could it be young man dancing under an orange disco-ball?

Could it bean innocent bystander about to be pummeled by a flying pumpkin in my backyard?

Could it be a basketball game?

or...

Is it a self-portrait of a very happy boy in a world not yet defined, not truly filled in yet, still opening in front of him?  I love his smile; strong and natural.  I love his arms; ready to embrace.  I love his countenance; peaceful and content.

I think that is why I keep thinking about this paper-sculpture-pop-up-thingee:  I want to know that kind of joy, that type of happiness, that depth of peace.  My future seems all filled in, mostly with my past and present, my feet and hands are well defined, I know where I am.  I forget sometimes that they are not defined yet, they are still developing on that Polaroid-like blank page they started with, their lives are still filling in.

I sometimes wish mine still was.  I should work on that.


Watch out for the pumpkins...