Where The Id Takes Me

What’s most marvelous to me about having a baby is being able to witness pure id, personified. It is manifested in the baby’s jump from smiles to tears. She cannot express herself in words. So, when Junior from Big Apple Edibles came over and, after analyzing the soil in my yard, was showing me displays on his mobile tablet, my daughter shrieked until we realized she wanted to see the screen, too. (Like every baby seems to be, she’s really into electronics—maybe I’ll riff on this in a later post.) She gobbles food by the handful, and tosses to the floor whatever displeases her. She now knows how to sign that she needs a diaper change.

What’s amazing is the empathy I feel! As long as she’s happy, I’m happy; and when she cries in her crib it, it shatters my heart. I empathize, understand, and respect her flips from ecstasy to despair. When I don’t get what I want, do I not scream inside? Am I not crestfallen when plans fall through or a promise is broken? Not to mention the bodily functions that amuse and relieve me, the craving for affection, and, sometimes, my lack of self-awareness.

Where does our id retreat to when we repress it? It becomes our inner voice.

I think it’s important every now and again to indulge in an activity where self-consciousness is absent—adventure sports do it for me.

Many of you have heard the phrase, “in the flow,” and may even be familiar with the great book written by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, originator of the concept.

I’m curious to hear where my readers find themselves “in the flow”—where time slips away, self is liberated, intuition is guiding, and instincts are sharp. Where you’re all id.

Since I’m addicted to being in the flow, or, more accurately, I practice being in the flow, a field of wild flowers can trigger the feeling for me (especially if I drop everything just to run through it), or a spectacular building, or a near miss, or a run-in, or a glistening body of water (especially if I’m steering a boat), or the moon…

Maybe the sublime and the id are tied to one another.

What do you think? Are you due for a spiritual diaper change? Shed the outer layers and go naked! Lose yourself in something or someplace big and loud and high.

I am sure you can cultivate spontaneity. If you crave it, I mean.

What is the difference between someone who stands at the edge of a meadow quietly wishing he could run across it, and someone who shrugs off any perceived authority or consequence and darts across it? Is it the same difference as that between someone who fantasizes about violence or crime and someone who carries it out? Do criminals have less self-consciousness? Are they in any way more liberated?

Time for a confession: We have new neighbors who renovated a house that used to be dilapidated. I’ve enjoyed seeing the exterior being transformed. And, it’s on a magnificent plot of land adjacent to the forest. They chose top-notch landscapers and completely revitalized the property—installing, in one day, a lawn full of perfect green grass, purple rhododendron, azaleas, and also a driveway of brick pavers with a ramp walkway leading to their side door (a brilliant idea—maybe our new neighbor needs ramp access?).

From the front you can see that the back yard has a stone wall. The corner of it is visible from an acute angle down the street.

Before the renovations began, my husband and I and another couple with our babies walked around the shaggy property. A couple weeks ago, I walked up to the groomed property and pinched a leaf of rhododendron to look up on the Internet (that’s how clueless I am about botany; I wish I recognized more plants; I resolve to do some self-educating on the subject). But I hadn’t sneaked a peek at this revamped back yard, and then the people seem to have moved in. There are cars parked there every day, and some lights on at night. I missed my chance to check out the back yard before the owners took residence.

I’ve been contemplating baking the new neighbors a welcome batch of cookies. Maybe they’d invite me over and I’d finally get to see the back yard. I have the curiosity of a kitten!

I was strolling with the baby when I saw a car back out of the driveway. I watched it roll out of sight, then hit the foot brake on the stroller, and ran up past the ramp to see the back yard, and ran back. I saw the wall. It’s nice. It’s stone. I didn’t take in details of the patio, but the scale and skill of the masonry are impressive.

No harm, no foul, right?

I resolve to go snooping around this abandoned house again; last time the cops scared me away, but I've since learned I wasn't doing anything wrong.

About MommyTheorist

Editor, writer, photographer, and new mom
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3 Responses to Where The Id Takes Me

  1. oliarights says:

    Writing has been putting me in the “flow”. I’ve always wanted to read that book, I’ve attempted several times and got bored even though I love the concept. I love your snooping around Westchester stories. You are creating your own adventures!

  2. Pingback: Mommy Theorist

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