Settling Down

As i write this, i'm trying to get one very cute nephew to have a nap.

Writer Madeleine L'Engle once said that children are reluctant to sleep because it's a tiny bit like death. Certainly, children, for whom every experience is "present" cannot foresee even a tiny bit into the future, see the need for sleep or anything else beyond this, precise second in time.

My charge has fallen asleep because he was overwhelmed with "tired" and because the sound of the keypad became irresistibly and luxuriously lulling. His last few waking moments were spent humming a soprano, staccato human interpretation of the patter of the keys: It momentarily became more compelling than the sound of trucks and cars on his busy country road.

In North America, we lead faster and faster lives. It becomes more and more difficult for something gentle to lull us into the relaxation we need.

Instead, we seem to need jarring out of our rapid ruts: A neighbourhood house fire may catch our attention where a soft breeze cannot.

Yesterday, i received an upsetting phone call. It was needlessly jarring because the person who called, on business, was worked into a frenzy before i even spoke into my receiver: There was no chance for dialogue; it wouldn't fit into his "pattern".

i have no easy answers for how one may slow down without being tossed off the conveyor belt altogether. All i can do is dip one toe off the edge and see if, eventually, i can remain standing.