Not long after my cattle encounter, I head out for a walk to enjoy another sunny late summer afternoon. Blackberries, blackberries everywhere… it’s slow progress, as I can’t help but stop every few metres to pick another perfectly ripe one. They’re joyously abundant and annoyingly seductive.
As I amble round I notice some blackberry-related curiosity brewing. I love the massive tangles of brambles when they’re in full leaf like this, cascading in all directions and heavy with glossy fruit. However, the photos I’ve taken today aren’t hitting the spot. It’s bothering me that I can’t find a way to capture the moment.
If not a photo, then what? Last time I followed my curiosity I made something with words. Maybe I can make something with words again.
I create a new task on my phone, planning to jot down ideas and sort all of this out at home.
Ten minutes later I appear to have written the first verse of a ditty.
In the spirit of ‘I’ve started so I’ll finish’, I’m now properly invested and curious to see if I can keep going with my self-imposed rhyme scheme to draw out another couple of verses.
I’m vaguely aware of how tragic I must look stumbling along with my nose in my phone on such a beautiful day, but I’m having a lovely time playing with ideas, listing rhymes and looking up synonyms. There’s some childhood blackberrying nostalgia going on in the background too.
It’s a fun challenge and completely absorbing until I’m interrupted by a stranger who asks me if I need directions. Actually what I need is a quick way to lay out my finished text on a purple background to post on social media, but I don’t think they can help me with that.
The Curse of the Blackberry Sea
Blackberry sea
Oh blackberry sea
Wave upon wave of you
Calling to me
All sun-drenched and plump
A soft delicacy
I want to dive into
The blackberry sea
Blackberry sea
Oh blackberry sea
You don't understand
What you're doing to me
I've plundered your depths
Still you won't let me be
My willpower's drowned
By the blackberry sea
Blackberry sea
Oh blackberry sea
Until you're all gone
I shan't ever be free
My fingers are stained
And I won't want my tea
But I still can't resist
That sweet blackberry sea
Roll forward to late September and I’m busy putting a basic WordPress site together so that I can begin sharing what I’m noticing, making and learning through following my curiosity. While I’m organising notes and planning next steps, ‘The Curse of the Blackberry Sea’ leaps out and grabs my attention.
I remember that walk vividly. The brightness of the sun, the bountiful brambles and the pleasure of feeling completely at ease in my own skin all come flooding back. But there’s something else at work too. A nagging, uncomfortable doubt. I begin to wonder if my ditty is worth writing about.
I mean, it’s just a silly rhyme right? Not exactly ‘art’, is it?
And there we have it – a direct line to my hideous inner critic, despiser of spontaneity, destroyer of innocence, despot most foul. I’d love to report that I immediately told it to sling its hook. The true story is much more painful and convoluted to recount here, but thankfully shares the same ending.
Yes I am writing about my ditty. I’m not going to erase it, as if it never happened or doesn’t matter. The very fact that it got my inner critic’s goat is evidence enough that it’s deserving of my attention.
On that sunny August day, my curiosity took me to a place where playfulness and unselfconscious creativity had the space to breathe and thrive. I got to experience genuine light-heartedness, unconcerned by anything beyond the effortless joy of simply creating something for the fun of it.
I think I need to have more fun. I also think I need a tune to go with my ditty. Let’s see what my inner critic makes of that.
