What Dippin' Dots and Chocolate Chip Cookies Have in Common

chaotic field notes on Creation from Issue No. 16

This piece was first published as the introduction to The Retreat Issue No. 16 | Creation, featuring muse Soko Park of Sokoi. To experience it—as well as other thoughtful essays and interviews—in its full analog glory, visit www.theretreatbycarley.com and check out our newsstand.

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Creation is a beast of a theme. I’ve officially declared myself mad for even trying to cover it in one issue. This whole biting-off-more-than-I-can-chew-for-a-thrill is such a me thing to do. It reminds me of the time in high school when my friend and I scheduled two double dates in one night. It’s like this whole sitting-on-the-edge of 30 has me chasing the high of an adventure that I may or may not turn into content for an essay. Except this time, I’m wearing an inside-out flannel instead of navy jeggings, and no one is going to drive by as I invite “Option Number Two” inside. Hopefully no one will text me I hate you after this.

Unlike the eligible bachelors in high school, Creation has endless options for exploration—and the starting point is more ancient than, well, anything. How do I introduce such a multifaceted, larger-than-life topic? Am I in the mood to ruffle feathers? Do I bring up that idiot Adam and his rib? Do I talk about the lotus flower that bloomed from Vishnu’s belly button? Do we sit in a circle and discuss Nyx’s egg? And speaking of eggs, which did come first—the chicken or the egg?

The other day, as my dogs were walking me down the streets of our new neighborhood, I was counting the DIY dog water and treat stations. It seems everyone in our area is trying to enter a non-existent contest for best pet lure by putting the tastiest biscuits in a hand-painted jar. (If you ask me, Teddy’s Dog Bar with the water mister on Maple Street is crushing the competition.)

As I judged the stations on a scale of 1-10, I started to make up stories about what the owners of these stations were like as children. Were they not allowed to have a dog as a child? What kind of project did they enter into the science fair? Had they dreamt of being a vet? Did they opt for indoor recess at school? If they went for outdoor recess, did they go monkey bars or swings? I bet they loved chalk.

It wasn’t long, though, until my brain decided that this was too lighthearted of an inner dialogue for a Tuesday—it needed to spice things up. What can we stress about? That was about the point when I fell into a conversation with the negative version of myself who sits at the front of my brain, hunched over on a high horse, and loves saying things like “eh, I don’t think so” and “I told you so.”