this kid is too darned adorable. I’m currently with him at his momma & poppa’s – they’re out on a date. and lucky them, because both of them are pretty swell folks. as is their little boy here – his facial expressions are so remarkably nuanced. sitting with him & constantly smiling at him, trying to make him smile back – i am instantly reminded that He Sees Through Me, and wont be irrationally tickled into a happy state. immense and subtle is his learning – amazing to watch him move, grasp, re-grasp, squeak, re-grasp, drop……like a drop of ink falling into the water. the ink (baby) & its environment (water) are not separate, but are distinct…..& adjust, mingle, altering one another reciprocally. even most contemporary language in the world of developmental psychology and developmental neuroscience is suggestive of this idea that babies are ‘learning the skills needed to be an adult,’ as if the passivity of embodiment suddenly vanishes at old age. in my experience both the adult (or the advanced adult/senior/cute old prune) and the child follow this same ink-water relationship. perhaps the adult-ink has settled more equally into the water, and is more familiar with the turnings of the water, and vice versa. but both follow the same rules, & neither is entitled to magic intentionality.
as a helpful reminder (or perhaps the very prompt) for these lines of thinking are some of the books that mom & dad have sitting around here. The Soul of an Octopus is the clear Ian-choice:
“Popular naturalist Sy Montgomery explores the emotional and physical world of the octopus, the remarkable connections it makes with people, and the vibrant community that arises around this complex, intelligent, and spirited creature. Practicing true immersion journalism, from New England aquarium tanks to the reefs of French Polynesia and the Gulf of Mexico, Montgomery befriends individual octopuses with strikingly different personalities – gentle Athena, assertive Octavia, curious Kali, and joyful Karma – who show their cleverness in myriad ways: escaping enclosures, creative trickery to get food, and jetting water to bounce balls. Montgomery also chronicles scientists’ growing appreciation of the octopus’s problem-solving as she tells a love story. By turns funny, entertaining, touching, and profound, The Soul of an Octopus reveals what octopuses can teach us about the meeting of two very different minds.”
but resting just nearby is another consciousness-themed text. Inner Engineering: A Yogi’s Guide to Joy. I would type the description of that one but it’s too long, and this baby over here is murmuring/moving in his sleep.
Be back soon
First woke around 11:27am to what sounded like corvids. A LOT of corvids. My rotating fan was quite loud & my mind quickly reconnected the alleged crow cacophony with its original input signal-the sound of the fan. I lay facedown still half asleep, & was sad to only have imagined it. The thought of so many crows (the sound, rather) is what had jolted me out of sleep and out of bed, & I tried to forcibly allow myself to calm those adrenals atop my kidneys & return to unconsciousness. But then I was certain I was hearing them, & my heart exploded with urgency, & my skin prickled with excitement. I flew rapidly towards the foot of my bed to turn off the fan. And with the loudest and most opaque of signals now silent, rather than battering my eardrums with white noise, I could hear a quiet & clear symphony – at LEAST ten crows, yelling at each other.
It was a rather redeeming moment. Life right now feels quite tertiary in that none of the outward effort, energy, or regular and committed karmic seeds have had any form of positive or improved/bettered effect on my current standing. It seems there are valuable traits I exude sometimes…but it doesn’t often matter. Positive traits seem to matter for others but not for me- At least not right now. Frequently (almost daily) friends offer feedback that my attentiveness or time or support is of utmost and foundational importance to their well being. For a while that was nice to hear. But..planting personal values or watering my unnoticed and withered bits is hard work. And it feels like that work yields no sustenance in the form of recognition…In my own selfish and needy way it just feels like unpaid labor. There is always cognition: other humans do talk to me, & my family especially puts in forethought or attention in to their actions. Friends do sometimes think or engage with my thoughts or engagements without being prompted. But in my last relationship (especially) and in my current friendships whiny ol’ me feels like a farmer trying to run the show on his own & all without eating. No fruit for the farmer until the harvest? Or something. It’s sorta like I’m tilling the dirt and planting and watering but nothing is coming up in my own field – the neighbor’s field, sure. But no fruit in mine. And yes – the field is healthy, the table already has food on it (literally and figuratively). Life is okay. But in terms of income, interpersonal connection…it’s lonely to feel un-re-cognized. Super lonely. Especially while all of the people who are really important to me are quite literally spreading their wings to fly far away across the globe for their own well-earned adventures in self-discovery.
All’s to say even if the crows only come for the seed (BIRD seeds in the literal sense…ha) it is so immediately rewarding. It is so rewarding to coax these midnight missiles to my home, and to know that there is mutual benefit in their being here.
Having turned off the fan I could, in my sleepy & unclothed state, leap towards the window and peek outside without immediate concern of my phalanges being visible from the street. My attic window renders my lower bits nonviewable from the street, so in the interest of time I sent my hand on a life-or-death race to the venetian blinds of the west window. Aggressively sticking my hand between a pair of them, & opening a crevice to look outside, I didnt see much – but at that INSTANT the loud conversation just outside escalated to a collection of rhythmic screams. Their voices sometimes lined up in their pitter-pattering, forming the same illusory depth as the perceived connections in a large applause. Within half a second I could see through my hasty window-crack & saw they were not on the roof. The screaming of the birds startled me the half-second prior & I thus had no issue rapidly drawing the blinds in an attempt to get a glimpse of the source of my autonomic excitement.
And wow, did I see quite the something. Across the street no less than 12 or 15 crows (tried to count amidst my erotic panic) were desperately and forcefully exiting the tree, almost as if I had thrown a stone right towards them. They were banking up & around as to fly south away from the area, & I knew immediately at this moment – not 6 seconds after being asleep & horizontal – that I had scared them off. That seems to happen often. The elation and sorrow both were embodied. At no time recently, or ever, had such a clear response to my bird-feeding been sitting there. Apparent. Those birds are beautiful. But as far as me, I am a bit off-putting to them & I feel quite bad for rendering their moment an interrupted one. Next time, for their benefit (but also for the benefit of my behavioral/interspecies voyeurism) I will remember my mini-mantra:
FLIGHT > SIGHT
In essence this is a reminder that the real intent is to feed & sustain them; to contribute to their unhunger, to make this bit of life’s locality more sustaining and relaxing for them. To see or pester or talk to them is in itself (for the time being) outwardly aggressive & only serves my own enjoyment of the associated autonomic response. Yes, those corvids do stir me quite deeply, and I must remember that to stir them back is likely not at all enjoyable for them. As such they rapidly flew south towards Hague or perhaps Laurel. I lowered the blinds and blushed.
Baby consciousness. It’s now 4/23/2017 but I have to share some thoughts retroactively. Babysat a very special boy for some very special friends last week. As someone who loves littles more than bigs in this human world it was an absolute gift. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to take notes but had zero opportunity to take notes. So I jotted down what I could with the inkwell of my hippocampus and later wrote them down. Just a few moments/observations (These are not written in order, and are not representative of any overall sequence of behavior, as they were put on paper down some hours after the actual experience)
- At ten months baby has good eye contact and according to Dad he is BIG: “He’s in the 90th percentile for size.” “So you’re saying he’s gonna be a big boy?” “He already IS big. 90th percentile NOW. He’s a big baby!” & we had a laugh.
- Baby has a unique behavior I most enjoyed. A sort of hand motion/wave. Less of a wave than a reach. In a literal embodiment of an “approach” behavior his left arm, led tentatively and first by his left hand and wrist, twist outwardly and warmly into the air. He twisted his chubby bubby fingers inward, as if creating a cosmic corkscrew to say HELLO. Once his little hand was twisted inward in blissful engagement he clasps and unclasps his hand – this all (obviously) takes place as he beams right into your soul. Babies seem to be quite good at that.
- A fun bit of behavior on the stairs. After about 20 minutes of spending time with baby and Dad, Dad began explaining to me how to babysit/the ins-and-outs of the house. Nursery is upstairs so up we went. & as myself, Dad, baby & family dog ascended the stairs Dad began to explain a few more of baby’s behaviors. The stairs are carpeted and Baby, w/Dad behind, was crawling up them.
- Baby had been increasingly focused on me before we began the Great Stair Climb – offering more eye contact, smiling at me. So as we began on the stairs, with me and Dad behind, baby was distracted/not climbing quickly. It seemed this strange invader behind him was more captivating than The Great Stair Climb. Me: “Maybe I should go up the stairs [ahead of him]?” Dad: “Yeah, you’ve got his attention. Go ahead of him.”
- So I did, & this incentivized baby to speed up and get smiley. How compelling and ineffably warm it felt to have this massive and newly formed consciousness gurgling and approaching.
lad is conscious of me – perhaps 3 times so far we have met and hung out in the presence of his Dad. Today was a warmup to our first one-on-one hangout on Thursday.
Babies are tremendous and wondrous. To anyone fascinated by biology, physical forms, learning, animals, family…I’ll shut up now. Babies are amazing & everyone knows it. But to be clear – this journal of mine is for observations of living things, and today’s opportunity was a rare gem amongst the daily dirt.
Baby – small. large head, of course. His presence rendered me compelled to observe and also eager for eye contact. Eye contact is rare in this day & age – normally I feel I am seeking it, adults frustrate me in their lack of it….to sustain in it (or persist in it) seems to require or signify a type of FORTITUDE.
Not so with a baby.
Baby instead had me requesting his eye contact but, unlike larger humans, made me follow his lead in that attempt in a much happier and rewarding way. In general (with big people) it really feels that I am trying to lead them into a substantial interaction, or at least into eye contact, but in this instance it was Baby who was leading me – to look/not look/wait/not wait. With Big People it seems I am forceful and am compelled to channel. With Little People I am gleefully and willingly channelED.