Volume CXXXII, Number 3 September 27, 2002 f

Use your imagination
GENEVIEVE CREEDON
COLUMNIST

One of my friends was sitting in my room earlier today creating a plan to suspend a train set from his ceiling, and after ten minutes of his imaginings, someone informed him that most of us had grown out of that stage. Then, I asked: "Do you ever think of anything realistic?"

"It is realistic," he replied, "I could do it." And he could, and it would be a great thing to see, so what's wrong with the idea?

When my brother was very young, he used to fantasize about flying cars. Anyone he liked was allowed into his flying car, and it was an honor to be granted passage. Now my brother is in business school, and he cringes at the mention of the flying car.

I'm kicking myself right now for my response to the suspended train set, because there is nothing wrong with the idea, except that it's not particularly economical, useful or space efficient. It's impulsive, but impulsive isn't always bad.

If I think about it, probably the most impulsive thing I've done in the past year was getting my hair cut, last November. Two weeks ago, I wrote about the necessity for change. Maybe change is about impulse and spontaneity.

We are so constricted by expectations and images of what we should be and how we should think. We don't know how to invest our minds to break down those expectations. We stick with releases that require no thought: watching screens, drinking, getting high on artificiality.

For two weeks, I've been trying to decide how to use a gift certificate I received. For a few days I toyed with getting the K'NEX Ferris wheel (ages nine and up), which runs on a battery. My roommate even told me she was heartened by my inclination. Of course, I keep telling myself it will be useless; it won't really contribute to my personal growth in any way, so I fall back on books. I love books and reading. They're useful; I'll have them for the rest of my life. Realistically, what am I going to do with a battery operated, three-foot tall Ferris wheel?

Well, first I would put it together, and then it would probably sit somewhere in my room, and every once in a while I'd turn it on, watch it run, and probably marvel at the mechanical perfection of the moment. So, I don't really know why I won't just let myself get it. It's not even going to cost me anything.

My excuse continues to be that I don't need a toy Ferris wheel, which is true, but I don't really need anything for that matter. My friend doesn't really need a suspended train set, but we do need what those things embody. We need wonder; we need imagination; we need spontaneity; we need impulse. We need the willingness and desire not only to suspend trains from the ceiling, but to suspend ourselves a few inches above the things we already know.