On the Wisdom of the Baby Buddha
Attending to my baby in the wee hours of the morning for his regular cycle of waking, changing and feeding, I find myself marveling at his purity of mind and spirit.
For there is no guile in the Baby, no secrets, no hidden agenda. You don't have to wonder if they like or dislike what you are doing. Joy is immediately communicated through contented sighs or peals of laughter; discontent in the form of furrowed brows, quivering chins and unmistakable tearful bawling.
No time is wasted reading in-between the lines of e-mails or texts, attempting to discern hidden messages from tone of voice or speculating if their actions stem from being passive-aggressive, aggressive-aggressive, inadvertently rude or clueless overenthusiasm. No, the Baby is genuine and possesses a sense of oneness that would be the envy of any pilgrim striving to reach Nirvana.
I can think of a lot of people, myself included, who have spent a lot of time and in some cases money studying ways to feel alive, intuitive and in the moment. Classrooms and studios across the country are crammed with individuals committing themselves to pursuits such as martial arts, acting, yoga, dance, music, improv, meditation, so on and so forth, trying to find out how they can just be.
And then there's the Baby, with the regular cycle of waking, changing and feeding. And that's all there is to it. I seriously think the sound of the universe in its most elemental state just might be "Goo."
How exactly do we screw up and lose this wonderful simplicity on the road to adulthood?
Guess I'll get to find out when my son graduates to toddlerhood.
