Babies elicit our joy just by existing. What if everyone, young, old, and all ages in-between, did that for us? Is it possible we could learn to see in such a way that they do?
Many of us are quite smitten when a baby comes into our midst. We coo over them and smile sweetly, and fawn over them happily. “Look at your little nose,” we say, and are sincere in asking about their experience: “do you see the kitty?” If we are allowed (the pandemic has certainly changed how I assume permissions), we may reach out to touch that fine baby hair, or tenderly stroke a little arm. We examine with absolute wonder their fingers and toes and look deeply into their eyes. If they perchance grace us with a magical babysmile, we light up, returning the compliment with exaggeration, wildly waving and shaking our heads. Sure, we’ll restrain ourselves in polite company, but the impulse is there.
Similarly, we marvel at the ability of the toddler to walk, to talk, to even string whole sentences together! We watch, rapt, as they go from waddling to running, learn to do things like fasten a button or use a spoon, and profusely encourage their efforts. And when an eager sharer speaks of their latest accomplishment or announces some news we react with great interest, and ask to know more.
But somewhere between toddlerdom and adulthood, the generic fascination ends (perhaps with the teenage years?) Oh, there are still people we tolerate, or even a few we adore, but only because we know them. But even them we often take for granted—it’s not often they elicit the joyful response a baby can by just simply existing.
Why is this? Why is it that we aren’t just as smitten with the adults we encounter? Someone who has survived to, oh let’s say over 30 years (or 40, or 50…)may not merit coos, oos, and ahs, but why not? What if we looked at strangers in the street the way we do babies, and we approached them excitedly, or at least gave them happy sidelong gazes, commented on their lovely expressions, their cute ears (even with, or perhaps because of, the hair growing from them), their impressive coordination and mobility?
Sure, I know there are probably lots of reasons why. For one thing, adults are just common— they’re everywhere, whereas, babies, unless you work in a nursery or preschool, are relatively rare. And I’m sure there’s some scientific, evolutionary explanation for why we react to babies as we do—something about the importance of caring for the young and meeting their needs because they are utterly dependent on having us notice them. I get that we aren’t trying to slight adults by not getting all cow-eyed every time we see one, and it’s perfectly reasonable not to. But what would be possible in our world possible if we did?
What if, when we looked at that 45 year-old walking in front of us and thought, “Wow, there goes a human being!”, or, “Wow, how amazing that this person is walking, despite a limp,” or maybe, “there’s an older woman in a wheelchair, what an amazing story she must have—I bet she has seen a lot of things in her lifetime, I bet she has a lot of wisdom,” and, “here’s a young man, filled with so many thoughts, I wonder if I can make him smile.”
In our world, we are so often met with neutrality by others, or worse, antagonism, and it seems we are encouraged to do this. You probably know at least one person who just seems hell-bent to be angry at the site of another human being. Can we train ourselves to see others in the way we might see babies– with wonder and appreciation and just joy?
As a counter-cultural experiment, why not try it for just few hours–and if you are having trouble feeling particularly awed by your neighbor, who after all sports weird hair and clothing and gosh knows what else that you never would, well, imagine them as a baby. Imagine them through the eyes of a loving grandmother. I’ve been amazed at the difference it makes when I pause to remember that everyone I meet is probably wondrous in some way—I may not know exactly what way that is, and I may never know, but recognizing that fact makes it more likely that I will find something to appreciate in the other. Whether or not I end up interacting with the people I’ve been contemplating from a “wondrous” point of view, I’ve found this practice brings me a great sense of peace.
Unlike babies, those of us who have lived a little longer have created experiences, raised families, given gifts, labored for the things they cared about or needed to do, been a friend or sibling, experienced victory and failure, overcome or succumbed to hardships, known and endured deep losses. Each person has a unique view occasioned by their circumstances and individuality.
Surely, this merits some wonder.
Surely, if we could be reminded of this when we meet someone, we might not only treat one another more gently, but be made joyful by the blessing of this unique other being in our midst.
So—maybe start by imagining the baby in you. Why, will you just look at those precious, interesting, amazing hands?
