Kids are these beautiful bits of raw wisdom wrapped in skin. I am a parent to two - a spunky, four year old little girl and a giggly, nine-month old little boy. I cannot think of a time when I’ve felt closer to the source of all things than when I am totally engrossed in their presence. Their energy is just completely unadulterated - uncluttered by preconceived ideas of who they should be and shouldn’t be, how they should feel and shouldn’t feel.
Instead they just are.
And it is so lovely.
I sometimes find myself so fraught with the entanglements that come along with existing as an adult in 21st century America, and here come my littles - blissfully unaware of any of it. Of all of the wise sages I’ve read throughout my life I do not believe I have encountered one with more beautiful truth than that of a child.
The other day it rained. Our entire yard was seemingly covered in mud. My daughter asked if she could go outside to play. I said sure, but somewhat hesitantly because of the puddles surrounding our door. I walked the halls with my son in arms and when I circled back around to the door she was covered - and I mean covered. I laughed and called her name as she swirled in circles singing songs to herself. She spun towards me, gave me a huge smile and then - as if lighting had struck her with the most brilliant idea she had ever formed - she dunked her head, face first, into the puddle.
It was blissful.
If you are an optimist like myself, you’ve certainly encountered one of the thousands of perfectly poised positivity quotes saying, “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” The quote is so played out that it’s become painfully cliche.
But watching this magical little girl actually DO it; seeing the tips of her hair DRIPPING with mud while she giggled in delight; noticing the rainbow pattern on her pants completely disappear under the sheen of dirt - THAT was a revelation. THAT was wisdom that couldn’t be communicated in words.
It is so easy to wait.
It is so easy wait for the perfect time or the perfect place or the perfect skill set or the perfect moment or the perfect date or the perfect conversation. But our lives - they aren’t waiting in the wings. Our lives are front and center and beautifully broken into chaos and art. This is it. And if we are too hesitant because of the puddles surrounding our door, we’ll miss it.
We’ll miss the magic.
And we’ll miss the learning.
And we’ll miss the dancing.
Oh... how we will miss the dancing.
The mud is gooey and mushy and sometimes pretty gross, but it’s also soothing and nurturing and somehow extraordinarily perfect.
Our littles know this.
And somewhere, our little souls know it too.