#137: That’s Not A Tree.

I have to admit that I don’t remember. And yet, it sounds so familiar. It must have been said. I must have heard it. It sure was the begining of the end.

«I can’t draw.»

It suddenly became clear. It was so obvious. The teacher just put into words what everybody else thought. According to all standards and practices, whatever I had put on paper would not have qualified as a tree.

This short story captures the moment when creativity gets killed for most at a tender age of 3 to 5.

I actually do remember a similar moment. I was sitting next to my mother with tears filling my eyes and running down my cheeks. My homework was to draw a bird. I had already reached an age where I knew that I couldn’t draw. No birds, no trees, no people, no nothing. So I asked my mother to draw a bird for me or rather on my behalf and you can guess what I told her.

«That’s not a bird.»

She keeps telling the story. It must have happened. When I think about it, it makes it feel like one of my saddest school memories.

We do learn from our teachers, though, don’t we? What sticks with us isn’t the encouragement or the praise for having tried our best, it is the harsh reality of having failed miserably in drawing a tree (or a bird for that matter).

Who gives a damn anyway?

Today, I attended an improv session with the fabulous improv teachers Robert Poynton and Gary Hirsch. It made my day, week, month. Such a blast! So much joy!

We still carry it inside. It is there. Hidden, covered, possibly locked up, but it is alive. The question is how to unleash it. The answer is not difficult.

We just have to let go. Our fixation on control kills us, our creativity, our joy, the mere act of feeling alive.

«That is my tree, and yes, I love the way it looks.»