As a kid, I sold tiny “Cootie-Catchers” folded out of bright orange sticky notes for one quarter each. Bus rides home turned into tight folds, deep breaths, and concentrated eyes to fulfill my dear classmates’ requests.
I was of the crowd of kids who could create the awestruck emotion. I could instantly imbue color and lines into works of mastery.
Simply put, I was an art kid with subpar artistic ability doing anything to impress people. I forced myself to learn from books and step-by-step how-to procedures just to give the boy I had a crush on a tiger drawing.
I was a sucker for approval.
So, when I started to lack passion for drawing, it’s no wonder I stopped enjoying the process. Skills were supposed to be earned by hard work and constant drawing from every second I had.
I am 18 years old now, and I have finally picked up a book that teaches me basic origami. On the cover, depicted in soft blue, sits a delicate paper crane. I never dreamed of being good enough to fold myself one, so I didn’t, until now.
I never dreamed of being good enough to fold myself one, so I didn’t, until now.
Over a commitment to serving the general public, I skimmed through the pages and began on a long journey. With work busy as ever, my folding was hindered and my focus fractured between different focal points.
Not too long after, a semi-perfect crane sat in my palms.
As kids, we are pushed to open doors and race down any paths that catch our eyes. But for me, I felt like choosing was dictated by the wants of others. The little approval I had gotten was addicting and highly sought after.
What once was filling no longer satisfies me. Because I’ve learned to appreciate my skills, I am free to learn what I wish.
I know that I will never be the best at anything. I know that many others have more time to practice and hone their skills, much more than I do. Someone out there can fold a paper crane more delicately and precisely than I ever could.
Origami can be done by anyone, and that includes me.
But the younger me would say differently. She’d say that it would never be enough. She knew that what she wanted was never going to be what others did.
So whatever it is I desire to do, I will pursue it with an open heart. Because, without that, how could I ever dream of a paper crane and not try to make it my own as well?
