Being the Question (Part 1)
J is 8 ½ months now. He just taught himself to pull a wipe out of the package. No…he is not brilliant because he figured it out, rather he does things with so much joy and pure curiosity that it makes me laugh:
What this? Ask his baby blues.
A blue package! It crunches!
Hit, hit, hit! Say the hands.
(Crunch, crunch, crunch.)
OOhh! A white part!
It moves when I pull!
Tug, tug tug tug.
Hey, it waves in the air.
Hm, cold, wet AND I can move it.
What if I stand up and touch this cushiony stool with it?
Tap, tap, tap,wipe!
Shall I taste?
No, better to hit the stool with it.
LOOK! There’s Mom.
Ok, time to move on.
My little one embodies full engagement in every action. What will it take, I wonder, to allow life to come to me with such ease and joy?
Being the Question (Part 2)
M, age 3, asked me to microwave her ice cube; it was too cold. Just as I was about to explain that it would melt if I did so, I looked into her big brown eyes. Ok…sure, why not? I put the ice-cube into the bowl and zapped it for 10 seconds. (Why should I squelch her request just because I know what will happen?) M picked up the diminished ice-cube, touched it to her lips and said, “again, please.” So I zapped it once more. “Again,” she said. The third time, she glanced at the miniscule ice-cube, considered it with a slight “hmm” and went on to the next item on the play agenda, detached and un-phased.
Thank you, M, for teaching me how to make ice soup. What a great recipe for meditation in action!
(P.S. While I expanded on things with my own ideas, I borrowed the phrase of ‘being the question’ from Access Consciousness.)