Once upon a loud crack in some seaside cove a wave met rock and foam and splash (one of those cosmic cracks) and out of the egg sprang a chicklet, all bright new colors and flapping like there was some good reason for it. The rest of us looked and went “Awww, cute! ” and “Kootchie Koo!”
But we’d missed the point, because this was something novel about to happen, a tap dance in the sand, a castle of just water and spray. And it was going to be messy and ill formed, and we’d be wanting to correct it every step of the way.
Hmmm. Sound like the creative process? It always comes upon us like that, the really original ideas. They never have their hair brushed or shoes tied and they can smell a bit suspicious, like something we’re not sure we should let in the door. It can take some time to get accustomed to the strangeness of allowing the bizarre entry. But really, do you never want to travel to foreign lands?