I have often thought that my granddaughter, Riley seemed to exhibit monk like behaviors, from early on. When she was learning how to run she would hold her arms down at her sides and her head held high, she would take small, quick little running steps. As I watched her I couldn't help but see a line of little Tibetan monks, in their orange robes, running up a hill path.
Perhaps she has a cluster of past life cellular memories of being a monk?
She certainly approaches each day with a great deal of enthusiasm and "what do we have to experience today" attitude. Life in the monastery was not like her current life.
On Monday, she came home from day care clutching a folded up piece of 8" x 11" paper. When she carefully unfolded it, lines of scribbling and small stickers (at least 20) covered the surface of the paper.
I asked her what her note said and she carefully scanned it, looked at the dinner table and the anniversary cake on the counter and said, "It says that, Riley can have cake."
Now, before you turn away and mutter to yourself, "Why, why is she boring us with this?" it occurred to me, while watching her that we all need a folded up piece of paper to carry with us.
We all need this magical "NOTE" that will give us special permission to do whatever we want. A note that doesn't remind us of consequences of our decisions. A note that doesn't put conditions on our choices.
Just a magical note that we can carefully unfold and there unscrambling before our eyes is ............................something.
Perhaps an explanation, perhaps an apology or permission to do something.
See, I'm having my coffee and I'm wondering where an almost three year old even comes up with the concept of a "note". It's not like one was sent with her to day care.
It's not like she was party to a repetitive conversation around grown ups about a note.
She sits down at her table and with her crayons, "writes" a note, decorates and adorns it with stickers and TADA a "magical note", is born.
Can you imagine the power the "little monk" now has? The only writings in the monastery were spiritual writings held or handled by the most holy. Paper? Pen? A pocket in the robe?
Lowly little monks didn't have those.
It's Wednesday and this morning while sitting down to read my mail she appears next to me, clutching her note.
"Good morning, little one, what does your note say today?", I ask.
"It says, Riley is going to have a fun day at day care and be first in line down the slide." she responds.
I wonder if she will wave the note at the other kids as she makes her way to the head of the line or will she magically already be in that spot.
Somehow, I hope the "note" never lets her down.
What I would give for a magic note.
Photo from the cover of National Geographic Expeditions