To Fold

Things have been folded, and the origami heaven that is Christmas has arrived. 'Lo,' said the strange old man with the fish fingers, 'Christmas is here, and we may begin to fold.' He was right, that strange old codger, and I really don't think he needed to be thrown out of that diner the way he was.

It's amazing to see what you can do with squares of paper. At the most basic levels, you can make boats, boxes, birds, vases, tulips, action models, and modular geometry that would take your breath away. It's an exercise in creation on the small scale, a little bit of crafting accessible to all, no matter your level of creative ability. You can take that flat piece of paper, and turn it into a three-dimensional model, simply.

There's a myth, which I've always wanted to believe, that if you folded a thousand origami cranes you could make a miracle. I tried it, once, a long time ago, but stalled somewhere in the two hundreds. A miracle was needed, but none came. It's nice to think that you might be able to make your own miracle, instead of just hoping for some omnipotent being to align itself with your cause. It's the form of horribly difficult miracle that would be attainable to the common person if they truly cared enough. It's an industrious and independence fostering kind of miracle, even if the very concept of wishing for a miracle does reinforce a dependent architecture of thought. How's that for a contradictory statement?

Origami can stimulate a certain philosophical frame of mind, as seen in the previous passage. It can also get you through running a stall at the local produce market, and a wonderfully relaxing weekend of dogsitting. Yes, origami heaven is back in time for Christmas, and that can't be a bad thing. This is the Quirky Muffin, nestling in a paper-driven puddle of tranquility.

Go fold a crane.

O.