DANCING WITH LOVE AT SURFSIDE
I'm sitting quietly at my desk where I write. "Beethoven at Bedtime" is playing on the CE player in the room next to me where I see clients. Beethoven's Symphony #2, the "Emperor" concerto, Violin concerto in D, the Moonlight Sonata and more. Peaceful, lush, soft, full, soothing, startling. Preparation for a night of dreams. Infolding music, cocooning me in a warm, misty cloud of protection. I relax lazily into my day dreams.
My mind wanders, drifts, is ever moving, not still, dreaming. I see Nick, four years old, dancing on the sand at Surfside in South Carolina. Uncles, aunts, grandparents, mom and dad; all an unnoticed audience in his background, unaware of the drama unfolding in front of them, lulled by the sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun.
Nick swirls, swings, moves with fawn-like grace, as he covers his head with his dad's tee shirt and wraps his tiny, lithe, sun bronzed body in beach towels. Six year old Chris joins, him. Both boys, brightly coloured towels filled with the breeze created by their graceful movements, fling their little boy made sails over their head and fly over the hot beach sand and through the muddy ocean shore. Back to the underside of the steep steps that go up to the condo, they return to their make-do dressing room, where they design another costume.
Emerging from their change room, this time they are Zoro; another time, desert sheiks; then princesses; or lords, or sailors. Always changing, quick as a sunbeam bouncing off glass or crystal, their imagination flings them into another mutually created world. Not communicating with words, these two boys are so wondrously connected that their unrehearsed performance is a seamless flow.
Clo tries to get a photograph. Every time she focuses the camera, they escape. Usually eager to pose for pictures, this seems to be a private game for just the two of them, not to be documented or frozen in time for the family history book. The co-created work of art comes from deep inside each boy and is not intended to amuse others. The game/dance goes on for a long while. We are witnessing the making of magic. Clo and I feel privileged to be present for this act of pure beauty unfolding naturally and unselfconsciously before us.
We realize we are watching the wonder and innocence of childhood as it should be. Amazing creativity, aliveness working/playing/being in tandem. Connected, two moving as one, rhythm, synchronicity. The mutually agreeable world of communication we all long for in our adult relationships. What has happened to us?
Most of us have never known the depth of trust, collaboration and connection exhibited by these two marvelous and profoundly loved little boys. Maybe that's what has happened to us. Most of us have never known the love Chris and Nick receive from their mom and dad, their extended family and friends. How vitally important that children be loved, guided, and nurtured so they can thrive. So that as adults, they continue to be the marvelous beings they were at birth.
My mind wanders, drifts, is ever moving, not still, dreaming. I see Nick, four years old, dancing on the sand at Surfside in South Carolina. Uncles, aunts, grandparents, mom and dad; all an unnoticed audience in his background, unaware of the drama unfolding in front of them, lulled by the sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun.
Nick swirls, swings, moves with fawn-like grace, as he covers his head with his dad's tee shirt and wraps his tiny, lithe, sun bronzed body in beach towels. Six year old Chris joins, him. Both boys, brightly coloured towels filled with the breeze created by their graceful movements, fling their little boy made sails over their head and fly over the hot beach sand and through the muddy ocean shore. Back to the underside of the steep steps that go up to the condo, they return to their make-do dressing room, where they design another costume.
Emerging from their change room, this time they are Zoro; another time, desert sheiks; then princesses; or lords, or sailors. Always changing, quick as a sunbeam bouncing off glass or crystal, their imagination flings them into another mutually created world. Not communicating with words, these two boys are so wondrously connected that their unrehearsed performance is a seamless flow.
Clo tries to get a photograph. Every time she focuses the camera, they escape. Usually eager to pose for pictures, this seems to be a private game for just the two of them, not to be documented or frozen in time for the family history book. The co-created work of art comes from deep inside each boy and is not intended to amuse others. The game/dance goes on for a long while. We are witnessing the making of magic. Clo and I feel privileged to be present for this act of pure beauty unfolding naturally and unselfconsciously before us.
We realize we are watching the wonder and innocence of childhood as it should be. Amazing creativity, aliveness working/playing/being in tandem. Connected, two moving as one, rhythm, synchronicity. The mutually agreeable world of communication we all long for in our adult relationships. What has happened to us?
Most of us have never known the depth of trust, collaboration and connection exhibited by these two marvelous and profoundly loved little boys. Maybe that's what has happened to us. Most of us have never known the love Chris and Nick receive from their mom and dad, their extended family and friends. How vitally important that children be loved, guided, and nurtured so they can thrive. So that as adults, they continue to be the marvelous beings they were at birth.
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