The Art of Origami

Recently, a friend of mine discovered the joys of Origami. This, as probably everyone knows, is the ancient Japanese art of paper folding. The name Origami is derived from the Japanese words 'Oru' (to fold) and 'Kami' (paper). Japanese children usually learn Origamic skills quite early on, others, like my friend, a bit later in life. And the newest convert, as they say, is the most fanatic. You can hardly keep company with my friend any more without getting distracted by her hands twisting around paper squares. You're sitting there and telling her something very, very vital. All the latest angles and brackets of your personal life that had been tormenting you for the past seven days and she says, uh-huh, look at this. And holds up a paper parrot. Look, she says, he can even move his beak. Once she used to be my best friend and so interested in every aspect of my life I used to call her an interfering busybody. Now I'm a paper widow.

"It's absolutely maddening," I finally told her.

"No, it's not," she said at once. "It is a very interesting way of honing and developing some very important skills."

"Not social skills obviously."

"Behavioral skills," she said, unmindful. "Cooperative skills, Maths skills, Cognitive skills, Motor skills, Analogical Reasoning, Intuitive thinking, and lots of other things. And you won't believe how much I've learned about Japan since I took up origami."

"I'm sure there's more to Japan than paper-folding."

"It's more than just paper-folding - it's a philosophy of life!"

"How to fold it, you mean?"

"No." She smiled at me. "How to unfold it, I mean, step by step and in a proper order so you can create a real winner."

"Really? And how do you do that?"

"It's easy, if you know the ten commandments."

"I knew there was a catch - because Moses never folded a paper in his life - unless it was to start the fire on that hill."

"Let me teach you," she interrupted, handing me a new paper square.

It was a good way to both shut me up and create a new respect for Origami. The folding isn't as easy as it seems. You have to have clean, precise creases, and you have to exactly follow the required sequences. And once you manage that it's very intriguing the things you can create out of one simple square. It's also kind of addictive.

It has now started to irritate my family.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded my mother. "Do you have to keep fumbling with paper bits all the time?"

"I'm not fumbling with paper bits," I said, with the hauteur of the initiated towards the uninitiated. "I'm practicing Origami - it's an ancient Japanese skill."

"Paper Martial Art?" inquired a bemused visiting relative from the boondocks.

"She can slice paper with one chop of her finger," said an over-smart cousin. "And she still has a long way to go before she even reaches the First Degree of Origami."

The visiting relative looked at me with a never before shown respect. "That's amazing."

"But is it necessary to do it at the dinner table?" inquired my mother. "If you absolutely have to fold something, why don't you fold in your food?"

"I expect it's the sheer dedication," said the over-smart cousin.

"I think it's important for girls to know martial arts," said the visiting relative. "Especially in the present age. But, uhm, how exactly does this - Origami, isn't it? - promote self-defense?"

"Let me explain," said the over-smart cousin and did. "First, you fold and fold and cause considerable violent and bitter exasperation in the watching public - then you fold and fold and fold and fold until the antagonized party dies of sheer boredom. Voila!"

"Voila this!" I said, lifting my hand and hurling my paper jet plane straight at him. It hit him squarely in the fore-head and he didn't wait to die of sheer boredom. He shook off his boredom and jumped up to practice self-defense. And, that, of course, knelled the doom of yet another peaceful family meal.

By all unfortunate indications, I conclude that my family is not yet ready to be origamized.