You’ve heard the phrase about “being one with the universe”… to me in the sixties and seventies that used to bring to mind visions of kids in jeans, sandals and tie-dye shirts sitting around passing a joint.
The concept of living a life that embraces and reflects the natural rhythms of existence sort of evolved for me as I lived my own journey through to maturity.
Today as I rocked my one year old grandson on my lap, I again experienced that sensation… the feeling that this was the center of the universe for me. Nico looked at me with his huge saucer shaped baby blue eyes, fighting the sleep that I think he knew he’d eventually succumb to, taking me in, enveloping me body and soul as I did him.
A seventy-three year old grandfather, locked into a mind meld with the son of his own son. The moment was primal, beyond articulation in words. As we rocked slowly back and forth I sang to him, stopping when his eyes would close and resuming when he’d lazily open them. His was a losing battle and I hope that at some point in his life, long after I’m gone, that he’ll replicate the experience with his own grandchild, and feel as I did, that he’s one with the universe, one with the child of his child, a multigenerational experience of life.