Jeff
Frederiksen
By
Jeff Frederiksen
"Father?" Hime
looked up at me shyly, afraid she was bothering me. I put the newspaper down
and leaned over to listen to her.
"What is it Hime?"
I asked.
"Father, I think I'm
old enough now. I want you to teach me
how to make a bird."
I looked down at the little
princess clutching her worn, threadbare Monchichi doll and thought for a
moment. She was a dexterous little
girl, with delicate and gentle fingers.
Bright and inquisitive, she would probably master this art very
quickly. I smiled and said, "Let's
do it now!"
"Now, Hime," I
began, "this is an important part of your education. You must understand
the origins of this art and respect it.
1,400 years ago, this was introduced to Japan. The raw material used to create a bird was so scarce, only the
wealthy were able to enjoy the pleasure of this craft. We give thanks for our
good fortune in being able to participate in something once reserved for royalty."
Hime listened intently; her almond eyes locked onto mine as I spoke. With a personal ritual, I asked for a blessing as we began to create a bird.
Hime intently watched my
every move. She recorded each manipulation
as we molded a lifeless object into a soaring creature. Out of the emptiness and flatness, a
beautiful swan took shape and soared.
My daughter squealed with delight as I handed it to her.
"Welcome to
Origami," I laughed.