Psy241-201

Just one of my developmental psychology class responses about my earliest memory.

There are many fragments of memories floating around that I can easily recall, but my first major memory took place a couple weeks after I turned four years old. My little sister Becky and I were taken to a nearby playground for several hours by my paternal grandfather, Papa J. We often visited with him, but he rarely took us places, more often sitting and telling stories about his childhood during the Depression. But this time was different. We swung, slid, shrieked, made piles in the mulch, and climbed through tires. Afterwards, we returned home, where Becky and I were made to stay outside, playing in the yard and eating at the picnic table. The restricting of our entrance to the house was notable enough, but added to the out-of-the ordinary playground visit with Papa J., the day seemed even more extraordinary.
The strange supervision and odd restrictions of the day make it stick out against the fuzzy memories that I have of that age, some of which I’m not sure if I remember through my own experience or through the retelling over the years by parents and other relatives. It wasn’t until later that I realized that that day was the day my little brother was born. I don’t remember so much his entrance into my world, but the events of his birthday are what have stayed with me.
That day is one of the few days that were strictly spent with my grandfather as our caregiver. While playing at playgrounds and around the yard at my house was common enough, the fact that it was supervised primarily by my grandfather made the day special to me. That, combined with the unusual restricted access to the house, which we usually had free-reign of, created a day that stood out against all the other days in my life until that point. Without the trip to the playground or the later restricted entrance, I’m sure that day would have passed into the unmarked, unremembered days of my early years. It’s nice having a point that I can remember and positively equate with a precise point in my childhood.

Flow

So, I’m reading along in my developmental psych book (actually being productive with my morning!), and come across a section addressing creativity in the early adulthood stage. The majority of the section was dedicated to Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a Hungarian psychologist who studies creativity and what he calls ‘flow.’

“Flow, whether in creative arts, athletic competition, engaging work, or spiritual practice, is a deep and uniquely human motivation to excel, exceed, and triumph over limitation.” (EnlightenNext Magazine)

My textbook then listed some ways to cultivate curiosity and take steps towards a more creative, ‘flowing’ life, based on Csikszentmihalyi’s research.

-Try to be surprised by something everyday
-Try to surprise at least one person everyday (something out of the predictable pattern of your life.)
-Write down what surprises you and how you surprised others
-When something sparks your interest, follow it!
-Wake up each morning with a specfic goal to look forward to
-Spend time in settings that stimulate creativity

I have a happy life, and I have a full life. Work and school amount to being a busy girl! I know that at this stage in my life I am where I should be and pursuing what I’m meant to be. But I still want to improve and grow, and explore. So I’m excited to delve more deeply into Csikszentmihalyi’s writings and thoughts about creativity and living a full and happy life.