She is a startlingly beautiful child, hair dark as night, a mass of curls above an alabaster face, eyes a blue so deep they seem almost violet. It is those eyes that best tell her story. They won’t focus on her adoptive mother’s face. In fact, they actively refuse. Whenever her mother attempts to catch her gaze, this precious child turns her head away, immediately, decisively.
At 10 months of age, this little one has had a rough time of it. Born with drugs in her system, she was cared for by a random series of her teen parents’ friends before being placed in two foster homes prior to adoption. No wonder she refuses eye contact. She doesn’t know where she belongs and hasn’t yet recognized this woman as mother for life.
And so Mom must be subtle. Catching her baby's gaze with a wiggling stuffed animal, she then brings the fuzzy bear to and from her own smiling face. Or Mom initiates a game of peekaboo. She sings from across the room, gradually moving closer until her baby signals she’s close enough. Mom does anything she can to entice her child into connection.
Fast forward to my mediation this morning. My mind was busy, busy. And when my gaze did finally come to rest on the silence opening out before me, I soon turned away, thoughts swirling once again. I knew then how similar I am to that raven~haired adoptee. I don’t break contact as quickly as she, but break it I do. It’s as if I, too, can only take so much.
What is it about opening to the Mystery that we resist? Why do we so often avert our eyes from that which brings peace, from that which might even bring us the rapture of sweet communion? We seem prone to cluttering our lives with busyness and worries, tending to fill our days with pursuits that don’t truly engage or bring a rich experience of living.
But perhaps there are games designed for us, too, experiences reaching for our attention, wishing to coax us into a more soulful relationship with life. Lines from poetry, prose and sacred texts call to us. Life crises invite us to turn our gaze to a new, more nourishing direction. Kindred spirits appear out of nowhere, and at just the right time to speak to our heart. And of course, the star~drenched night sky is always waiting to draw us from our small concerns, offering a glimpse of numinous infinity…until we turn away again.
A cosmic game of peekaboo? The idea tickles me. Rumi writes, “What you seek is seeking you,” and while I haven’t come across his use of the peekaboo metaphor, I think he would approve. And perhaps even smile.
Lullabies sing to us from across the Universe. As I type these words, I hear a melody, sweet and clear. And I look up...
Leia
6 comments:
Love it. Brot to mind my daughter as an infant. She's much better at staying connected now!! Nice analogy with the meditation.
I think that's the goal for us all...to stay connected a bit more and a bit more, to learn this process of connection. Thanks for reading and for writing, Solid Cindy!
What delightful poetry -- the peekaboo of the stars -- I will carry this with me on starry, starry nights. Just a great post.
I love the idea of us all playing peekaboo with that grand Mystery, however we conceive it to be. Thanks for reading and for writing, Sam!
And for everyone else, it really IS okay to email me your comment~~just send to fromthezafu@mac.com~~and I will post it for you. That's what Sam did. It's really no problem to do and much better than taking the chance that we might miss out on your comments.
It strikes me that not only do we avert our eyes from the Mystery, but also from true connections with others.
We revert to small-talk, humor, technology, food, drink, etc. to avoid connecting with others and facing what is true. It’s my experience that strangers walk by me on the sidewalk and look away—not smiling, not even uttering “good morning!”. People who see me on the commuter bus every morning fail to catch my eye even for a quick hello. My family members spend time on Facebook or video games instead of talking with me and sharing their days. Co-workers hide behind their busyness and don’t take the time to go beneath the surface for fear of…what? And of course, I sometimes hide and avoid as well.
I love the comparison to a poorly-attached infant who can’t hold mother’s gaze! We have all been hurt by love’s slings and arrows, and consequently we take the road of less risk (and connection)…but what a loss for all of us!
Oh, my gosh, but you said it well! I think most of us are poorly attached, which is likely why I saw myself in that precious little girl. But you really spelled it all out so very well, all the myriad ways in which our attachment issues manifest. They seem to show up in the stuff of our lives, so whether we're sitting with our family or at work, or riding the bus to our jobs, THAT's where it will present itself.
And so, what to do? While I know it's quite complex, couldn't we start by CHOOSING to connect? Just making the decision to do it in the small moments of our lives and see what happens? Maybe. I don't want to minimize how painful it is when our efforts aren't returned, but we gotta start somewhere, don't we? And maybe with that intention, we will also be able find folks who can receive what we give.
Anyway, thanks so much for reading and for writing, Marilyn!
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