Baby takes flight
Flying back to San Diego on a Monday evening (to be inside Donovan the following day, of course ;-) ), I find my row. In the aisle seat is a young mom with a 20-month-old little girl on her lap. As soon as I settle into my middle seat, Mom says “This is her first flight. I don’t know how she’s going to act. I apologize in advance.” I reassure this young mom – who doesn’t seem to be a seasoned flyer either – that it’s all good.
I quickly gather that Henley – as I later learn her name to be – is an active, hyper curious, chattery little one. She wants to discover all the new toys of this new setting she’s constrained to remain in. She quickly finds how to open the tray table. And that starts a game that will be picked up countless times throughout the flight of Henley opening the tray table and Mom closing it with a “Baby Girl, that can’t be open right now.”
After some taxiing, we are cleared for take-off. The instant – and I do mean, the instant – the engines start spooling, Henley freezes her incessant activity, perks upright on her mother’s lap, puckers her lips into this small “O” and attunes all her senses to the myriad new experiences of this moment.
It’s evident that she’s listening to the roaring of the engines in full thrust, not too far away from our seats. She’s sensing every vibration rattling her body. She’s registering the compression into her mom’s chest from the acceleration. She’s looking straight ahead into the tray table, tapped into all the new experiences moving through her small body. I’d argue she is also smelling and tasting the experience (only to discover that it doesn’t have a particular taste or smell).
There is no emotion or judgment in her, only curiosity for the deluge of new information pouring into her.
It is magical to watch a little human experience something new for the very first time. There’s a level of presence, of attention that is unique. They become so deeply absorbed in the moment – with its torrent of new sensations and bits of data – that everything else disappears. And, in this way, they learn.
Watching Henley was such a reminder to recapture these basics.
While we benefit from our brain’s incredible capacity to sort through the billions of bits of data that come as us every minute and to focus on what it deems “important,” “valuable” or “relevant,” it actually disconnects us from our actual lived experience of this present moment. Our experience of the moment becomes a reflection of our recollection of similar past experiences, NOT the actual present moment. Our brain has decided how we’ll experience the moment, its value and the outcome before we even experience it.
For 20 to 30 seconds, Henley sits there, frozen in her wild presence. She seems to experience the take-off more authentically than anyone else on the plane.
I spend the full five hours of flight being tutored by this 20-month-old back into that deeper awareness, that stronger presence, that joy of discovery. Yes, even as she opens the tray table for the 100th time, there continues to be this joy of discovery.
You have a choice: As you walk through your day today, are you willing to experience its moments as if you’re experiencing them for the very first time? Allow yourself to receive every itsy-bitsy bit of data of the moment, as inconsequential as it may seem. Place any judgment or emotion to the side; it’s not relevant right now. Feel the awe that this presence so often creates, even in the most mundane moments. Practice this with the mundane so you will feel it more completely and authentically in the extraordinary.
Henley and I configured for landing in San Diego, with her ever-present Santa nearby
Cover photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash; Henley photo by Mom