I Believe....

My children spend hours each day at a new hobby: Wheelbipping. At first appearance, the sport is anything but magical. A child attaches a Lego person to an equally small Lego base with wheels. He then rolls the creation over all surfaces, horizontal or vertical, in the house. Occassionally, Wheelbip Jousting takes place in which competitors roll toward each other with their lances at the ready, attempting to knock one another down.

Why is this activity fascinating enough to go on for hours? Perhaps because we don't have television. Perhaps because I spend too much time writing blogposts. Maybe because I tend to cook our meals which lands me in the kitchen while my children find yet another thing to entertain themselves with.

But here's what I think: Wheelbipping is dreaming in the hand. Both boys spend a chunk of each week skating or biking the skateboard bowl near our home. As they roll over and over in real time the simplest maneuvers, I imagine that they dream of their bodies and vehicles arcing midair in the form of their companion spatial artists. What is Real?

When I see Sam Wheelbip with singular focus across tracks that appear to be randomly chosen, my breath catches in my throat. The energy that emits from his controlled flight sets my hair on end. He is joyfully present in his awareness; the doing is the being.

At age eight, Trinidad approaches the sport more analytically. "Do you know, Mom, for some reason Air Surfers [a recent offshoot involving plastic human figures that hover in air over the chosen substrate at all angles] look more graceful than Wheelbippers."

"Maybe it's because they fly," I said. (What is flying, I wonder, if our hand alone controls the distance these objects hover above the earth? If all objects have potential flight, why are only some credited with this power?) "I'd be -- I'd be more graceful if I flew," I add. Seda laughs.

"What is funny?" asks Trinidad.

"Adult joke," says Seda.

"Adult joke? What does it mean, Mama?" asks Sam.

"I don't know," I say, blankly. "I don't get it either."