If the doors of perception were cleansed (Part 2)

With an 18-month old daughter, I have done a good deal more walking in the last year and a half. There is a chapter in the book, entitled, "Walk; Don't Run!" that explores this, too. I can certainly put my daughter, Hayden, in the three-wheeler and push her along as I run. I see that as inviting her into my world. Naturally, I fantasize that we will run side by side one day, even to the days where she hangs back a little so her old man can keep up.

But what is more exciting to me right now, is the open invitation that she extends to me into her world. As we take our walks around the neighborhood, I experience almost a "purging" process. She can walk, even run, pretty quickly when she's moved too. and mostly, she takes the route of a drunken crab, weaving to the next immediate point of interest and exploration.

I have to breathe deeply and set a conscious intention to transition into her world of immediacy, to see the world more with her eyes. It can take a LONG time to walk one block. Inside of me, my work world of doing, action, reaction, go-go-go presses up inside of me, feels trapped, constrained, held back. More breathing. Relax! "No need to go looking—see what's here," I encourage myself.

As I transition into this more present way of being, I begin to see her world, to move in her world, and experience the wonder, newness, and joy that is at it's foundation. Our neighbors put in some new features a few months ago in their front garden—a hanging Japanese lantern, a small bridge of bamboo, a winding path of smooth gray stones, and a fountain of trickling water over Japanese calligraphy. "Looks nice! Great job!" I praised my neighbor as I hurried by one day on an errand.

Today Hayden stopped and picked up one of the stones and ran in around in her hands, before proffering it up to me as she said, "Thank you!" It is a joy for her to give, it seems. She dipped her hand in the running water and squealed in delight. She walked over the little bridge, stopping at the top of it's curved arch to turn to me and smile.

I see that garden in a whole new way now. And the world that surrounds it.