Thank you for this! A perfectly timed reminder to open ourselves to wonder. Zan - I agree about kids / i think of that toddler dance (personal favourite, when it happens in a snowsuit) in anticipation of something good or fun - maybe we should do more of that!
I always used to love and be excited by a snowstorm when I was a kid. That's still there. Dancing in anticipation of something is not still there, however. Maybe I could cultivate some kind of interior dance. Maybe this is why music seems so healing, a kind of interior dance.
Peter, It's always interesting to me how the writings of spiritual teachers so often overlap with the writing of poets and novelists. It's why I don't like the word 'spiritual,' which implies that other aspects of life aren't....spiritual.
Yes, I love the previous comment about wonder. Seeing the world around us with a sense of wonder. Also, I notice how children observe without judgment. We start out in life just observing. Children don’t make judgements, especially about themselves or about others, until we are taught. A wonderful goal as adults- to once again just notice- about ourselves and about others, without judgement.
Yes, Janet. It's hard to do. It's like turning off one part of our brain, a part that's been in training for decades and that is continually getting reinforced by what we see and hear from others. When you are eating, just eat. Even that is such a challenge. Can we start teaching contemplation in schools?
I recall when my eldest child was about 7 years old. I don't recall what exactly had happened in school, but some other child had slighted my daughter in some way. I found out about it from a friend whose child (not the perp!) was in the class and mentioned it to her and she told me. When I casually questioned my daughter, for the first time I saw her control her face and not show what I knew were hurt feelings. I can still see that little face struggling to act as though this slight didn't matter.
That she now was in a world where others would intentionally hurt her was painful, sure--but it was losing that freedom of expression to which you refer that hurt me. It's the opposite of the "wonder" but I think everyone understands.
We've all been there, Miselle, with our kids and/ or with ourselves. It's interesting to think about the way the childlike openness and wonder we talked about disappears. I guess, once we're hurt enough, we all construct a layer of protection around ourselves, around the wonder and simplicity, so we can deal with the slings and arrows. And we pay a price for that. I don't know anyone who could go through life without that protective layer, but as we grow older I think a lot of us let it go and just be who we are, choose our friends wisely, shrug off the insults, and then some of the wonder comes back. The exceptions would be those people who were hurt so badly in childhood that they built a thick wall and can't manage to tear it down or even build a door in it that friends can walk through.
Thanks! Appropriately short and wise from you both. If my mind were a computer, I'd periodically close all windows and reboot -- in full knowledge that soon enough I'd have too many windows open again, including my computer.
I'm reminded of why I have been so happy caring for children for the past 40 years. Those moments of purity when a child bursts into belly laughs, with no sense of awkwardness or shame. Or the moments when a child looks outside and says, "Wow, the sky is beautiful!" as if they are the first to see it. I have spent my adulthood trying to hold onto a sense of childlike gratitude for the world.
It's curious how the conversation over Kitaro Nishida's observation about the essentiality of attaining the purity and simplicity of a child's heart--"If my heart can become pure and simple like that of a child, I think there can probably be no greater happiness than this."--so swiftly and marvelously turned to the essentiality of attaining a child's wonder. To me, the wonder of a child differs from the purity and simplicity of a child, where purity and simplicity seem more like states of being, while wonder seems more like an expression of those states of being, a way of living in the world that's enabled by purity and simplicity. I suppose purity, simplicity, and wonder are all essential. But it was heartening to see the conversation naturally gravitate to wonder, to acting on purity and simplicity to understand and better the world, rather than dwelling in purity and simplicity to live contentedly in the world, so the happiness Nishida aspires to serves others.
Bob, It seems to me sometimes that our great 'sin'--to use a loaded word--is taking things for granted. The beating of our hearts, the breath going in and out of us, the turn of the planet, the taste of food. Little children marvel at these things but after awhile we just file them away and move on to worry, judgment, plans, and so on. Natural enough, but I think it's good to pause once in a while and just look around, as children do. Just appreciate the bare fact of being.
Thank you for this! A perfectly timed reminder to open ourselves to wonder. Zan - I agree about kids / i think of that toddler dance (personal favourite, when it happens in a snowsuit) in anticipation of something good or fun - maybe we should do more of that!
I always used to love and be excited by a snowstorm when I was a kid. That's still there. Dancing in anticipation of something is not still there, however. Maybe I could cultivate some kind of interior dance. Maybe this is why music seems so healing, a kind of interior dance.
Dylan Thomas has a moving expression of something like this in Fern Hill, an elegy for his childhood. Wordsworth too, in Tintern Abbey and elsewhere.
Peter, It's always interesting to me how the writings of spiritual teachers so often overlap with the writing of poets and novelists. It's why I don't like the word 'spiritual,' which implies that other aspects of life aren't....spiritual.
Yes, I love the previous comment about wonder. Seeing the world around us with a sense of wonder. Also, I notice how children observe without judgment. We start out in life just observing. Children don’t make judgements, especially about themselves or about others, until we are taught. A wonderful goal as adults- to once again just notice- about ourselves and about others, without judgement.
Thank you, Pa and Zan.
Thank you, Janet. We always appreciate your comments. It's hard to unlearn judging everything all the time. I judge myself for it! all best, RM
Yes, Janet. It's hard to do. It's like turning off one part of our brain, a part that's been in training for decades and that is continually getting reinforced by what we see and hear from others. When you are eating, just eat. Even that is such a challenge. Can we start teaching contemplation in schools?
I recall when my eldest child was about 7 years old. I don't recall what exactly had happened in school, but some other child had slighted my daughter in some way. I found out about it from a friend whose child (not the perp!) was in the class and mentioned it to her and she told me. When I casually questioned my daughter, for the first time I saw her control her face and not show what I knew were hurt feelings. I can still see that little face struggling to act as though this slight didn't matter.
That she now was in a world where others would intentionally hurt her was painful, sure--but it was losing that freedom of expression to which you refer that hurt me. It's the opposite of the "wonder" but I think everyone understands.
We've all been there, Miselle, with our kids and/ or with ourselves. It's interesting to think about the way the childlike openness and wonder we talked about disappears. I guess, once we're hurt enough, we all construct a layer of protection around ourselves, around the wonder and simplicity, so we can deal with the slings and arrows. And we pay a price for that. I don't know anyone who could go through life without that protective layer, but as we grow older I think a lot of us let it go and just be who we are, choose our friends wisely, shrug off the insults, and then some of the wonder comes back. The exceptions would be those people who were hurt so badly in childhood that they built a thick wall and can't manage to tear it down or even build a door in it that friends can walk through.
Thanks! Appropriately short and wise from you both. If my mind were a computer, I'd periodically close all windows and reboot -- in full knowledge that soon enough I'd have too many windows open again, including my computer.
Dean, we try to keep it short on the 17th.
The modern world, I think, is hard practice. Plenty of food for most of us, and shelter, and luxuries, too. But hard practice.
I'm reminded of why I have been so happy caring for children for the past 40 years. Those moments of purity when a child bursts into belly laughs, with no sense of awkwardness or shame. Or the moments when a child looks outside and says, "Wow, the sky is beautiful!" as if they are the first to see it. I have spent my adulthood trying to hold onto a sense of childlike gratitude for the world.
Perfect, Karen. Fits perfectly with the quote we chose. Maybe that's why we celebrate births so avidly--every child reminds us of the wonder.
Zanny and Roland,
It's curious how the conversation over Kitaro Nishida's observation about the essentiality of attaining the purity and simplicity of a child's heart--"If my heart can become pure and simple like that of a child, I think there can probably be no greater happiness than this."--so swiftly and marvelously turned to the essentiality of attaining a child's wonder. To me, the wonder of a child differs from the purity and simplicity of a child, where purity and simplicity seem more like states of being, while wonder seems more like an expression of those states of being, a way of living in the world that's enabled by purity and simplicity. I suppose purity, simplicity, and wonder are all essential. But it was heartening to see the conversation naturally gravitate to wonder, to acting on purity and simplicity to understand and better the world, rather than dwelling in purity and simplicity to live contentedly in the world, so the happiness Nishida aspires to serves others.
Thanks, Bob
Bob, It seems to me sometimes that our great 'sin'--to use a loaded word--is taking things for granted. The beating of our hearts, the breath going in and out of us, the turn of the planet, the taste of food. Little children marvel at these things but after awhile we just file them away and move on to worry, judgment, plans, and so on. Natural enough, but I think it's good to pause once in a while and just look around, as children do. Just appreciate the bare fact of being.