B and a profound lesson in mindfulness

J and I went out for dinner, along with B, on Saturday. This was our first evening out in a very very long time. The evening itself went really well. B was being the darling that she always is, too inquisitive to be satisfied sitting in one place all the time, but alert and happy as long as we gave her enough to keep her occupied and walked her around every few minutes. Anyway,  during the drive back home, though, she was hungry and soon she was crying loud and kicking her feet, I'm sure, unable to understand why I would be sitting right there beside her, but not feed her. It broke my heart, to sit there helpessly watching her, and the 10 or so minutes felt like eternity. Every so often, she would quieten, lick her parched, dry lips and begin crying again, looking at me, her teary eyes pleading with me to feed her. I sat tight, biting my lips. Cursing myself.

As soon as we reached home, I grabbed her and held her against my breast. She drank with an urgency I'd rarely seen beyond her newborn days and I bit back the tears that were threatening to escape. In about 5 minutes, she might have felt satiated enough to stop feeding temporarily. She pushed away and looked up at me and smiled. 

There, right there, was a profound lesson in mindfulness. A moment ago, in distress from hunger, she reacted the only way she could - by crying, but now, all that was forgotten. A smile played on her lips, even as the trails left by the tears on either side of her eyes, still felt fresh and wet against my hand. I wiped away her tears and told her I was sorry. It made no difference to her, she was back to feeding and snuggled against my breast, breathing deeply. 

I'm deeply aware of how much I have to learn from B. She lives mindfulness, as only babies can. Thich Nhat Hanh says the younger the monks, the easier it is to initiate them into the practice of mindfulness. Older people, he says, come with baggage accumulated over the years, and all that has to be cleared away before they can be open enough to practice in earnest. Babies, they need no initiation. They just need us not to pile on the baggage.

Not to condition B, that's my job as a mother. Because, she is the way she should be. And I trust that is how she will develop and grow and blossom, as long as J and I keep out of her way and curb the urge to influence her to conform to our dubious standards of goodness or righteousness or beauty.

If I could achieve a fraction of her beautiful and uncomplicated way of life, I'd be well on the way to being a Buddha myself.

Love and peace.