Whimsy

I have been focusing on this word the past week or so. It came to mind one early morning as I was out walking the dog just before dawn in a light dusting of new-fallen snow. The air was crisp and as we walked, we left our footprints behind us. I could see the footprints of someone else who had been up before us. Unmistakable by its path, down the whole block-length sidewalk, a few steps up each house walkway: the paperboy (in our case, yes, it is a young male). I looked at and was able to identify the pattern of his boot tred on several blocks in a row. Suddenly, on one block, I noticed his individual steps had become a shuffling walk. He had dragged his feet to create two solid lines through the snow down to the concrete sidewalk. The parallel lines then took to curving, as he had shuffled his feet first from one grass-edged side of the walk to other. Looking up, I was taken aback to see he had continued this movement down the entire length of the block, a carefully measured serpentine pattern that arced left and right, left and right. I felt a spontaneous smile emerge as I stood in awe of the simple artistic beauty of these lines, the snow and cement and entire city block his canvas on which to create this transient image.

I laughed an appreciative and surprising laugh as I moved onto the terrace to continue our walk, careful not to disturb his work. I marveled at the time and careful thought it must have taken him to drag through this block, no doubt the whole time burdened with his pack of papers, but no more in a hurry to be done with his chore. I wonder if at some point he stopped and looked back at his work, satisfied with his creation. Did he for a moment hope that others might come upon it and appreciate its beauty, or be mystified by its appearance, something akin to crop circles? Or maybe this is just something he had done numerous times, out of boredom, walking that route every morning, rain, snow, darkness and sunrise. Regardless, I would just bet that at some point, either before, during or after his act of creating this, he must have smiled, if even slightly, at the thought of it, upon seeing its completion. In the same way I smiled upon encountering it and relishing in its existence. This, then, is what I came to identify as an act of whimsy, both in its creation and in its appreciation.

Whimsy, I said to myself over and over. How simple. How utterly delightful. How fun. Whimsy. But not just silly or childish. It was artistic. It was creative. Whimsy. The word stuck with me, as much fun to say as its own meaning, like how an onomatopoeia sounds like what it means to describe (pitter-patter of rain, creak of the door), this word makes you feel like what it means to define. Just try saying it: whimsy. It makes you want to smile just a bit, or even giggle. Maybe it’s an emotionomatopoeia—an emotional reflection of the word, or a psychonomatopoeia. Yet more whimsy in just creating these words.

Whimsy. The word hung in my head. What is whimsy? Of course, like good English-folk, I went to my dictionary for a more precise definition and was actually most dissatisfied with what I found there: an odd or fanciful idea; a quaint or fanciful quality; acting more from unpredictability than reason or judgment; an odd idea; a freak; an odd conceit; capricious (impulsive, unpredictable).

No, no. These wouldn’t do at all. It wasn’t what I had felt in seeing the serpentine creation; in some ways, yes—it was “odd” in that it was out of the ordinary, and unpredictable in that same way, as well as fanciful. But there seemed to be more negative connotation to those dictionary descriptors than what I sensed when I thought of whimsy. Certainly, I can see this having been a definition of the word when it would have been created, in a time when there wasn’t an appreciation for that which may have on the surface seemed frivolous. But, then, weren’t many artists considered such? Their works not considered serious, not, certainly, a serious profession, and most likely in their lifetimes, not appreciated for their innovation and depth. We see this a great deal more upon reflection of artists’ works from the past. Has this really changed that much? In some ways I think we do have a new and different sense of value for art, a greater appreciation and understanding of it and of our need for it in our lives, yet at the same time, some of those same old struggles continue. Can we not, then, revisit this notion of whimsy and perhaps create a new definition of it? Lets. Something which reflects a greater sense of fun and joy, snippets of bliss in our daily lives of mundane predictability and grayness. Accessorize with whimsy.

I think about ways in which I can be whimsical in my daily life, so I’m not sure that the act of being whimsical is in itself the unpredictable part so much as the person on the receiving end of the act does not predict its presence in their daily lives. For example, at the beach, collecting rocks and stacking them in a grouping so that others who come walking down the same path will see them. I would consider that an act of whimsy. It’s really meant to be simply fun, something that others will look at and say, “Oh, neat” and “Look at this, isn’t that fun?”

Acts of whimsy are actually quite creative, and require some thought and planning on the part of the creator, either in advance, or in the spur of the moment, but enough thought so that when asked about the creation of it, the answer isn’t simply, “Oh, I don’t know.” But instead could be, in the case of the bored paperboy, “I thought it was fun to walk back and forth, and I wanted to see if I could do it for the whole block.” Or “I thought it looked cool when I started it, so then I wanted to see if I could do a really long design.” That shows some consideration of the part of the creator which could be found out if queried. Another example is that at home, I have a tiny carved bear fetish my husband gave me to carry around in my pocket. However, I knew if I had it in a pocket, it would quickly become forgotten, lost in the wash, or vacuumed up some fateful afternoon after having fallen out. So, instead, I began placing it around the house. I set it on the banister. My husband asked about it, and I said the bear wanted to be there so he could watch us as we worked during the day. A few days later, I moved the bear to a window sill. My husband noticed this and asked about it. I said the bear must have wanted to look out the window and watch the snow fall. I don’t have a set schedule for moving the bear, and I don’t have it planned where he will go next, but, on a whim, I know I will someday grab him and simply drop him off in a new location and there will be a new story to go along with it once I am asked. Or, maybe this time, my husband will come up with the story himself and participate in creating this act of whimsy.

Are animals whimsical? I have wondered as I’ve been pondering the concept of whimsy. I often think my dog or cat really does mean to be funny sometimes in their own instinctual animal ways. When walking through the room, the cat will sometimes come out and jump up at the back of my legs, then simply drop to the floor and look at me as I yelp back in surprise. He doesn’t run away. He doesn’t look as though he wants to continue to play. He just sort of sits there and, yes, smiles at me, like, “Ha! Wasn’t that funny? Don’t you find me cunning and creative for still being able to surprise you like that?” Or the dog, who likes to hide his toys inside his owner’s shoes. I know an animal behaviorist will have a scientific explanation for this, but couldn’t it also be considered and animal act of whimsy? Or, for simple-minded me who doesn’t know the explanation for it, can I not consider it an act of whimsy and appreciate it as such?

I heard a song on the radio the other morning, its lyrics went something like, “I know why the Mona Lisa smiles, that DiVinci must have been a pretty funny guy.” And I thought, sure, the Mona Lisa is one of our greatest examples of how an artist himself created one of the most lasting symbols of whimsy. Was he intentionally being whimsical in his creation of the figure? Was the Mona Lisa model appreciating a bit of whimsy at the time of the painting, as the singer suggests? Don’t we continue to appreciate it as a bit of whimsy in our own lives? What mystery and at the same time what satisfaction this one piece has created for generations of viewers. And how greatly is it that we truly need and desire whimsy in our lives, as we have valued this painting as some kind of treasure.

Like purposefully creating opportunities for random acts of kindness in our days, I propose we also now add whimsy to our repertoire. Perhaps not every day, but once in a while, how about a random act of whimsy (is that redundant?). How about a simple sticky note with a smiley face on it stuck to the inside of a cabinet at work; pencils on a table lined up to spell out HI; a stack of rocks in an unexpected place; macaroni art in a gilded frame; famous quotes on labels stuck in unexpected spaces to enlightened someone’s day… The possibilities are endless since whimsy can crop up at any moment, inspired by the moment, anonymous, to be enjoyed or ahhh’d. But most of all, whimsy is more than the thought of action, it’s more than simply thinking, “Wouldn’t it be fun if…?” It’s the act. And so I urge you all, today, just let a little edge of your daily guard down, let loose a bit of that social rigidity, give in to a “freak” creative thought in the mire of daily structure and predictability. Be whimsical. I think you’ll enjoy it. And others will too. What a better world it will be with just a little more whimsy.