The baby is no longer a creature from the deep. He has thoroughly become a denizen of this world. He struggles to stand at the window, and looks for as long as he can at the courtyard, at the empty fountain and the naked trees. He eagerly watches a little video of himself in the tub—does he remember, last night?—and yells proudly at his splashing image.
He sucks his lips forlornly, and bangs toys against his sore mouth. Tired and cranky from so much teething, he quietly holds still so I can hoist him into the carrier on my back. We walk out into the world. He bucks in the carrier, hoping to get me to sing and jounce him as we walk.
The night bein’ dark and very cold
A woman took pity on a poor old soul
She took pity on a poor old soul and asked him to come in.
With a tooroo roo roo ranten high and a too roo roo roo ranten high
Tooroo roo roo ranten high and high for the beggar man
…
Who knows how long I’ve loved you
You know I love you still
Will it take a lonely lifetime
If you want me to, I will
Love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we’re together
Love you when we’re apart
At first the song makes him laugh, but soon he rests his head against my back and watches the world go by. After yesterday’s deluge of warm rain, the world smells clean. Wispy clouds ride high in the sky. Everybody on the street walks as if time is precious, feeling the hours until autumn rains resume.
When we come home, it’s all been too much somehow. He bounces back and forth between toys and breast, restless and worn thin. Then we hear the sound of papa on the stairs. The door opens to peals of dazzling baby laughter, smiles, and much waving of tiny arms.
They play together while I fry some fish for dinner. I make three bowls: two of rice, fish, and roasted vegetables; and a tiny one with coarsely-mashed avocado and roasted veggies. The baby holds one spoon in his fist and practices dropping it and picking it up while we guide spoonfuls of food into his mouth. Eventually, he looks to me, twisting and crying in his seat.
We all go into the bathroom. I hop in the tub to get clean while papa familiarizes the baby with the toothbrush. It’s not really about cleaning teeth at this point, more building good habits and getting comfortable with brushing and, from the baby’s point of view, massaging his aching gums.
Lately my days with the baby have been very peaceful, with a harmonious undertone that I associate with happy mammals. It’s the feeling of a body of many bodies, a congregation of monks moving together in their robes, a pack of animals functioning as one, a contented group of souls in limbic resonance with one another.
This entrainment of biorhythms is explored in A General Theory of Love. The psychiatrist authors of that book, one of my all-time favorites, describe how we intuitively instinctively pick up on one another, how we sense anxiety, panic, and warm-heartedness, and how multiples of us resolve into one macro-organism. Being around happy people makes you happy; for a nascent human with a highly plastic brain, positive entrainment is the key to future positive emotional disposition and bonding patterns.
Beyond neural connectivity, this sensation has physiological underpinnings. Meditators know they often breathe in unison with others; as a bodyworker I would frequently feel my heartbeat falling into time with a client’s pulse. Because of this natural falling into rhythm, premature twins thrive better, and their vital signs are stronger, when they are placed together in an incubator.
So no wonder then, as the baby and I cuddled together for a nap today, that I felt his heartbeat—my hand was in his armpit—keeping perfect time with my the throb of my own pulse in my neck and chest.
In spite of the pain of teething, in spite of his writhing around trying to nurse comfortably, in spite of the sleepless fussing, there is our synchrony. Today I sat zazen while the baby napped behind me on the bed. After thirty minutes or so, I came to the surface, and thought I heard a rustle. I turned to look at the bed, and there was my son, eyes alight, quietly giving me a conspiratorial smile. I laughed, and he laughed. I scooped him up and we bounded over to the potty, where he deposited a great big peepee, cooing happily and glowing pinkly from sleep.
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