Being an OBSERVER of Tender EMERGENCE
One thing leads to another, right? We learn, and grow, and
keep moving on up the ladder. These days even quicker, with more of an instant
demand. Often times we are involved in varying accomplishments at any given
time. With the revved up world we live in today children are being exposed to
countless amounts of societal pressure, forcing a rapid rate of maturity. But
what has this done for the greater good of our society? Time seems to no longer
be on our side. Kindness and expression of genuine gratitude take too much
time, and are been replaced with an extra emoticon! But how does the receiver
interpret this, and do they have the extra time to read an instant message? We
are peeled away from actively being present. The value of simply observing life
unfold has been lost, as instant gratification has become the way of life.
Who has time to just sit back?
I do! Archer has given me the
gift of time.
TO BE, to not do, but to be.
To be silent in my own thoughts and
action, to be with him, to be present in his learning, to be aware of tender
emergence, and to be an observer of these moments that flash before my eyes.
When the pressure exists of doing, and doing, and doing, we forget to slow down
and be present. Sure enough we miss moments that would melt our heart and take
our breath away.
For instance, when Archer began moving forward on his
elbows. At first I thought, that couldn’t be, how did he get there, and so
quickly? It was just a “quick” peek on my phone. With excitement, I resisted
the urge to request from him to “do it” again, and instead lay there patiently
being with him, syncing our breath, connecting on a level that doesn’t need a
signal, but one that exudes pure joy to be. As I reduced all other impacts, he
felt my presence and engagement.
Let me remind you I’m not just referring to the physical
movement that is occurring, but also the movement of his emotions and his
ability to recognize the thought process it took to get him there. He
differentiated between what he already knew how to do a) turn his vision off
and blindly roll until he felt the lights, or b) keep all systems linked,
coordinate his vision, his choice, and his physical exertion to go beyond his
current limits, spurring imagination, and valued his abilities to create a new
experience. Yes, he was proud of his outcome!
As I introduce new experiences into Archer’s tool box (i.e the mapping of his brain) it
take time observing to even figure out where to begin. I not only have to
take into account his visual needs, but considerably more the time and varying exposure he needs to
process each step in achieving the outcome. We were planning for our 5th
trip to CA and I really wanted him to get past the sippy cup. So the week before our departure it was my only
goal to introduce the experience of drinking from an open faced cup. It began
with the language and question of wanting a drink, after a response I would
hold and doing the tipping. Then came the introduction of his own two hands
holding, mom still doing the tipping, yet lots of chilling spills down the
shirt. I had to remember not to force, reduce my drive of wanting and let him
become familiar. I had that open faced cup everywhere we went, made a mental
note if I’m thirsty then ask Archer and try. Sometimes he protested (yeah! The 2
year old) and other times he was open to it. If it was plain water I had a
small chance of getting that 2nd gulp, in comes the not just 50/50
mix of juice but a heavy dilution just enough to give a sweetness to the lips.
We arrived to the sunny state and left the sippy cut behind! Now, a couple
weeks out and would you look at him tenderly emerging into an independent
drinker!
Have we lost the art
of allowing natural experience to feed our brains? We need to have moments that
are clear of external riffraff. We need space to settle into the feedback. We
must have flexibility of expectations. Can we allow time to let the process unfold? May we all work to BE
open to unique possibilities, and accepting of outcomes.