1920. My mother, at two years, perched on her father's knee. He died before I was born, the result of lungs damaged by gas in WWI.
1955. Me, at two years old. Is this how I developed my love of cats?
1983. My daughter Amanda, two and a half years old, near the end of her solo reign.
1985. Tamara and Caroline, my salt-and-pepper twins - two years old, of course!
2012. Zipporah Grace, my granddaughter, two and a half years old.
What does a series of two-year-olds have to do with anchors? you may be wondering.
Children, especially two-year-olds on the verge of discovering EVERYTHING, anchor us to life. Not only because they need us, or love us, but because they are so intensely alive. "What's your favourite colour?" "What's your favourite food?" 'What's your favourite sound?" - All their senses are in overdrive--sight, taste, sound, touch, smell--and their brains busy processing everything. Like the sun giving off light, children vibrate with life, shed it like sunshine all around them. And just as the sun grips the earth, pulls it into its orbit, so do children, with their intense aliveness, pull us in with their vitality and anchor us to life.
Children anchor us in time. I am in the middle of the above succession of two-year-olds: my mother's daughter, my children's mother; my granddaughter's grandmother, my grandmother's granddaughter. I will always be part of this progression, my influence felt for generations, just as my grandparents' and parents' influence has affected me.
Children anchor us in authenticity. They remind us what it's like to be completely open, completely honest, completely themselves. We don't need to pretend to gain their love, their respect, their attention. In fact, it's just the opposite. Children teach us how to be ourselves again, perhaps the most important anchor of all.
What does a series of two-year-olds have to do with anchors? you may be wondering.
Children, especially two-year-olds on the verge of discovering EVERYTHING, anchor us to life. Not only because they need us, or love us, but because they are so intensely alive. "What's your favourite colour?" "What's your favourite food?" 'What's your favourite sound?" - All their senses are in overdrive--sight, taste, sound, touch, smell--and their brains busy processing everything. Like the sun giving off light, children vibrate with life, shed it like sunshine all around them. And just as the sun grips the earth, pulls it into its orbit, so do children, with their intense aliveness, pull us in with their vitality and anchor us to life.
Children anchor us in time. I am in the middle of the above succession of two-year-olds: my mother's daughter, my children's mother; my granddaughter's grandmother, my grandmother's granddaughter. I will always be part of this progression, my influence felt for generations, just as my grandparents' and parents' influence has affected me.
Children anchor us in authenticity. They remind us what it's like to be completely open, completely honest, completely themselves. We don't need to pretend to gain their love, their respect, their attention. In fact, it's just the opposite. Children teach us how to be ourselves again, perhaps the most important anchor of all.
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