the little girl squealed. at full tilt – for a toddler – she ran toward the dome calling out to anyone listening, “i get to go inside!!!”
i daresay that there was not an adult present who was not invigorated by her unbridled enthusiasm, by what she saw so many of us may have forgotten. through her child’s eyes.
“you turn the pages back for me…to the way i used to be…./and now my darkest night is coming to an end, since i began to see through a child’s eyes…again.” (lowen and navarro – through a child’s eyes)
we all picked up the the pace, heading to the starry dome. a mass of people practically careening down the path to join in the lighted dome, under the light display and inside the music.
“you don’t go outside and see a starry night and say, ‘eh,'” anne said. “you say, ‘wow!'” (diane mina weltman – “an evening with anne lamott”)
“eh” was not part of this night. this extraordinary display in the garden – this amazing constellation above our heads as we stood in the dome with the jumping-bean-little-girl – was not “eh”.
and, in rare moments when you can feel the threads connecting you to the earth and all that is in it – the big, the little, the massive, the tiny – those moments you can touch the gossamer, the incandescent, the enduring, the evanescent – you – really – realize that none of it is “eh”, none of it is “same-old-same-old”, none of it should actually require any less enthusiasm than a toddler at full tilt.
read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY
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