Being Small has its privileges
To stop the music press stop/pause.
This is a beautiful song about the seasons of life. Being a parent now makes me acutely aware of how Time strips away at all of life. Whether you do the right things or not. So the only thing I can do is to keep a heightened awareness of the here and now.
Never has my mortality been this strongly felt.
THE CIRCLE GAME Play
Yesterday, a child came out to wander
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a starAnd the seasons they go ’round and ’round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle gameThen, the child moved ten times ’round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like, “When you’re older”, must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreamsSixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town
And they tell him, “Take your time. It won’t be long now.
‘Til you drag your feet to slow the circles down”And the seasons they go ’round and ’round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle gameSo the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.And the seasons they go ’round and ’round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and ’round and ’round
In the circle game
And go ’round and ’round and ’round in the circle game.
A child embodies an endless array of wondrous things that amaze, cheer and humble us. They look at the world with such innocence and excitement, full of wonder and awe; a little afraid sometimes but always very game for discovery.
As adults, often, our world views become less glorious and it becomes harder and harder to become excited by the world. Worldly possessions become our new toys and we let go of the simple but dear things that used to be all we needed in this world. Like a hug, a cuddle, a kiss on the forehead, a lot of love even when you’re swimming in a diaper full of shit.
Why does the significance of these things diminish as we grow up? Is it the loss of innocence of our little ones? Or is it our failure to love unconditionally as little children stumble from the cradle of our arms into the world; when we begin to weigh expectations on their growing shoulders, matching affection with accomplishments?
I have no answers. But I know we are not perfect. Maybe Babies are, for a while.
What I know is that today, baby Lucien receives an abundance of love. In the simplest but most important gestures. A cradled stroll for as long as he fancies no matter how the weight breaks our aging arms, immediate attention to his every whimper, hugs and pats at night, clinical attention to his daily needs and a crazed amount of love that almost always threatens to burst my heart at the seams.
My prayer is for Lucien to always have a child-like purity, that he would always hold these dear and know that all the money in the world would not buy this deep affection and love.
May we, always continue to love him this way, even when he is no longer a babbling roll of cute fat and pinchable pink cheeks.
That we may teach one another the true meaning of Family.