Creative Thought

I was only 7 years of age and staying at Granny’s Farm for the weekend, Dad was busy wiring electrical sockets into one of the outhouses. The farmhouse was in two parts, the big house, with Granny, Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary. A door and passage linked to the lower end where Uncle Frank and Aunty Betty lived.

It had been a wonderful day down the fields and through the woods… imagining things that went on when no one was there. Then the long walk back for tea, playing grandma’s old wind-up record player and sliding up and down the polished wood floor in the hall. The last job of the day was to fasten in the hens, only a short walk down the first cow pasture.

The light was fading as Uncle Tom and I went up the stairs, to the little room where I often stayed. I looked through the window to see the windmill before jumping into bed.

“Uncle Tom, tell me a story, a magic story before I go to sleep.” I knew Uncle Tom had lots of stories and he loved to tell them too. These were not from a book but straight out of his head.

“Now, into bed young man, let’s think of a story.”

 

Once upon a time, there was a young boy called William. His father was a joiner and made furniture, windows, doors and all kinds of useful things. William would watch his father for hours, working at his lathe, turning wood into something special.

Taking a lump of wood and as it spun with a chisel slowly moving side to side. First around the outside, then shaping the in… a beautiful bowl appears. It all looked so simple and his father looked completely at ease.

The game William played was to try and guess what would come out of the wood. On this particular day, his father was making four spindles for a stool.

William sat at a safe distance on a pile of logs and it seemed as if everything was becoming further and further away. William felt a little dizzy and as he shook his head, it was then, that he found himself in a very different place.

William was still sitting on a pile of logs, but outside a cabin in the wood, he had never seen before. It was night, and the sky was filled with colours of green, blues and purple, with distant stars shining through. William could hardly believe his eyes. At that very moment, a voice said, “Hello, where did you come from?”

William held his breath… there in front of him was a small boy – though he seemed a lot older, and dressed in greenery. William gasped and said, “I’m William and I don’t know.” It was then Williams's turn to ask the questions.

He discovered the boy's name was Twig. He lived in the woods though was more part of the wood than anything else. People would come from miles around, for Twig made some of the most beautiful bowls, plates and spindles. William noticed there was no sign of a lathe or chisels. He asked how this was possible.

“I just think about it,” said Twig, “if you can think it, you can create it.” Twig went on to give a demonstration… he placed a piece of wood on the palm of his hand and looked at it. The wood spun around and there appeared a magnificent plate.

“Here, you try,” said Twig, and soon William was creating amazing spindles.

William felt a hand on his shoulder, and a voice saying “Come on lad, wake up, you fell asleep”. It was his father. “No,” said William, “I have been somewhere else, creating spindles by just thinking”. William thought this was more than just a dream and wanted to know more about Twig.

My eyes were giving in to tiredness as it seemed Uncle Tom was coming to the end of his story. I asked, “Will you tell me more about Twig another day?”

“Of course,” said Uncle Tom, “I am sure that Twig has much more to say”.

“Uncle Tom, can we really create things by thinking?” Uncle Tom thought for a while, and just as my eyes closed, he said “Yes, I am sure we can… everything begins with a thought.”

 

 

©Copyright 2014 John Pearson