My son sits in his bouncy seat. He is only two months old. He cannot speak, except in goohs and gahs which are attempts at English, but he does one thing that fascinates me: He stares at things for long periods of time and is completely fascinated by them.
He stares at the fan as it turns high above him or the lamp as light emanates from its bulb and bathes the room in coll and spooky red glow from the red lampshade covering the light source. He stares and is completely intent on just knowing that one thing. There is no multitasking (a term I hate) or preoocupation with the television, there is only my son’s perfect concentration on one thing.
My son is so Zen and I am so not, except for when I hold him and only see the child I wish to regain within myself, the pure being void of social constructs about being a man or breadwinner or a jock or geek or leader or a slave.
I want to meditate on these things, on the innocence of children and the perfect focus of a baby. If only I could forget everything I know that hinders me from seeing the truth, from seeing myself and other things as they truly are, then maybe I could be a better person and a more effective catalyst for change and more productive artist and worker.
