Day 30: Infinite Possibilities

Lea pondering the infinite possibilities

Oh dear. I don't know how to begin. That's what the end does to a person, I suppose. I feel like today's post needs to be a masterpiece of insight and wit. No pressure. I hereby declare that it won't be, and I'll move on anyhow.

How is a small metal carrot like a plastic football helmet, a bead in the shape of a die, a rose made of ribbon, and a tiny glass vial of mung beans? Such are the mysteries that Lea Redmond's game, Infinite Possibilities, asks its players to ponder. I answered thusly:

Like roses, carrots grow in the garden. Football players need to eat their vegetables to get big and strong. Planting carrots is always a gamble, because you never know what you're going to get. And if you do get a enough, you can always can them in jars, like the mung beans.

I had the pleasure of playing Lea's game over lemonade this afternoon because many months ago Lea wrote a letter for me. Lea is an artist. One of Lea's art projects is The World's Smallest Postal Service, which I encountered at an Oakland Art Murmur and made use of several times. The WSPS is a service where Lea will transcribe anything you write into a tiny little letter and mail it off for you. It's delightful.

So technically I had met Lea before today. But not really.

Lea had been on my list of people in the area who I was hoping Encantada could help me connect with. Others on the list include author Mary Roach and some important local government official to be named later. But somehow a whole month slipped by without me contacting any of these people I'd admired from afar. My plan for today's Encantada Finale was to attend services at the Unitarian Church, another thing I'd meant to do but hadn't.

But then fate intervened. Yesterday, Lea sent out a newsletter about her artistic endeavors, and I remembered how much I'd been hoping to meet the charmingly creative mind behind it all, in an actual conversational and non-transactional way. So I emailed her. I sent her a rambling request for the pleasure of her company, and mentioned the project, but noted that she'd only be a part of it officially if she had time today.

"Wasn't that really scary?" Danny asked. No, not a bit. I wanted to meet her so I told her so. "Then I think your project worked," he concluded. Hmmm.

Inspired by the idea of A Project, Lea found time today for sitting in a cafe with me. It was lovely. We talked about art and writing and getting to know people, and played with her game, which she explains is like collaborative poetry with objects.

The cafe closed, and as we said our goodbyes and headed toward our respective bicycles, I took a moment to spread my arms and say with glee, "I'm done! I did it!"

"You're a superhero!" she replied, and she meant it. I zoomed home full of joy.