A New Word

Ah, the serendipity of a mispronunciation; a cluttered utterance. The Tuesday Afternoon Red Pencil Society was meeting in Cathy's side garden among the Dahlias. Erica Lanntrell was telling a story of her exposure to mediocre paintings and the mind odyssey these not quite good paintings of bulls launched her on. In her enthusiasm to share these revelations, and the impact of a truly moving painting of a bull and a chicken, she said it was unexpectable. Although she immediately corrected it to unexpected and continued her story, I was detoured to "unexpectable world".

Ah, to consider the unexpectable, to sit, waiting for the unexpectable. What possibilities. Such serendipity of anticipation. We all dream and ponder of things, generally within our ken. As children we make lists for Santa. We hope for fulfilled promises. Many of us still visualize world peace. In our high tech, scientific, and continualy researched world, I often expect more than is being delivered. Flying cars, cures, instant gratification of my baser desires of thirst and hunger.

The unexpectable. An enigma of unimaginableness or inimaginability all in one new word.

Erica is a storyteller, poet and actress. One does not want to miss an opportunity to listen, so I cross my fingers in an attempt to remember, to hold onto her mistaken word of brilliance, and returned to her story about good art, bad art, falling in love with artists based on a single piece of their work. That in itself is unexpectable.

Her story created a dialogue on art. I returned to her new word and it's profound effect on me. In the way of creative circles of conversation, the topics varied, politics, writing (yes sometimes we really write and critique), books and back to art. In the end we reveled that even bad art was good if it lead us on a intellectual or spiritual journeys. A prime example of the unexpectable.