Finding Significance
I can think of four different, majestic things in nature that impress upon me just what a tiny and insignificant part of this vast universe I really am.
Standing at the rim of the Grand Canyon, realizing it has taken millions of years for a single river to etch that canyon into the landscape while literally billions of humans like me have been born, died and forgotten.
Looking up at the stars on a cloudless night and knowing that our planet, our sun, our solar system - even our galaxy - is but one of countless tiny lights flickers in the vastness of space. Knowing that the light of the stars I see flickering above was actually emitted eons ago is a reminder of just how inconsequential my brief time on our small planet really is.
Walking along the beach, sand pushing up between my toes as I stare out toward the horizon, I am always struck by how vast the ocean is and how wave after wave continues to wash up on the shore, year after year, uninterrupted and unconcerned by all the humans who have attempted to master the seas or the lands they surround. And the sound of those waves crashing in - so rhythmic and peaceful, relentless and powerful - seems to slowly wash away my worldly concerns.
And then there is the majesty of the great redwood - trees so enormous that the word tree seems terribly inadequate to describe them. Walking along the forest floor on a bed of pine needles in the shade created by these towering giants, time seems to slow down as the trees invite you to experience life at their pace. There is nothing busy or frantic or urgent about a redwood forest. Those trees literally exude peace and tranquility - compelling you by their sheer enormity to leave behind all the petty grievances and stress of your life while in their presence.
In these places, I find peace and comfort in the vastness. It is reconnecting with my own insignificance that makes all the would-be problems troubling my mind simply melt away. Far from being intimidated feeling so small, I am instead invigorated by it. Thoughts that were once burdensome take their rightful place in the grand scheme of life.
But that really isn’t what I’m writing about today. I don’t have the words to describe this amazing and magical journey of parenthood. The best I can do is approximate it by saying that it is the polar opposite to the feeling of utter insignificance that I feel at the Grand Canyon or on a beach, standing amongst the redwood or staring up at the stars. It is the essence of significance to comfort your child when she’s upset, to feed her when she’s hungry. There is no feeling previously known to me that compares to the bond between Brenna-Marie and me.
It took a less than ideal circumstance to help me begin to articulate the intensity of the parent/child bond – but isn’t it always the challenges in life that help us discover more about ourselves? Brenna-Marie was sick last night – nothing serious, just an upset stomach from a new food that we introduced that did not agree with her. After waking up around midnight and crying inconsolably for a couple of minutes, she quite literally lost her dinner – all of it – while Kellye was holding and rocking her.
I quickly took Brenna-Marie, so Kellye could get cleaned up, and I immediately began doing my best to comfort my crying, scared baby girl. She was still quivering and gasping, not able to understanding what was happening or why she felt so terrible. As I held her, I experienced one of those moments I will not soon forget. As she began to calm, my daughter stared into my eyes with a look of such love and trust that I cannot begin to describe it, much less comprehend it. All I can say is that the entire universe faded away, and all that remained was Brenna-Marie and I and the bond between parent and child. During that moment, I realized that I was her Grand Canyon, her redwood forest, her ocean and her starry nighttime sky – I was everything that she needed and wanted, and she was all that mattered in my world. I have never experienced a greater feeling of significance and cannot imagine it.
I’ve been told by a number of parents to enjoy this feeling while it lasts, because the natural consequence of babies growing up is an increasingly diminished reliance on your parents. That is precisely why I had to sacrifice an hour’s worth of precious sleep to find some words to describe this amazing experience called parenthood before the memory of it fades and is lost to the unstoppable march of time. I’m happy to report that my baby girl slept comfortably and peacefully while I lay wide awake pondering the vastness of the universe and the immeasurable magnitude of my love for Brenna-Marie. Both thoughts bring me a profound sense of peace and calm.
Standing at the rim of the Grand Canyon, realizing it has taken millions of years for a single river to etch that canyon into the landscape while literally billions of humans like me have been born, died and forgotten.
Looking up at the stars on a cloudless night and knowing that our planet, our sun, our solar system - even our galaxy - is but one of countless tiny lights flickers in the vastness of space. Knowing that the light of the stars I see flickering above was actually emitted eons ago is a reminder of just how inconsequential my brief time on our small planet really is.
Walking along the beach, sand pushing up between my toes as I stare out toward the horizon, I am always struck by how vast the ocean is and how wave after wave continues to wash up on the shore, year after year, uninterrupted and unconcerned by all the humans who have attempted to master the seas or the lands they surround. And the sound of those waves crashing in - so rhythmic and peaceful, relentless and powerful - seems to slowly wash away my worldly concerns.
And then there is the majesty of the great redwood - trees so enormous that the word tree seems terribly inadequate to describe them. Walking along the forest floor on a bed of pine needles in the shade created by these towering giants, time seems to slow down as the trees invite you to experience life at their pace. There is nothing busy or frantic or urgent about a redwood forest. Those trees literally exude peace and tranquility - compelling you by their sheer enormity to leave behind all the petty grievances and stress of your life while in their presence.
In these places, I find peace and comfort in the vastness. It is reconnecting with my own insignificance that makes all the would-be problems troubling my mind simply melt away. Far from being intimidated feeling so small, I am instead invigorated by it. Thoughts that were once burdensome take their rightful place in the grand scheme of life.
But that really isn’t what I’m writing about today. I don’t have the words to describe this amazing and magical journey of parenthood. The best I can do is approximate it by saying that it is the polar opposite to the feeling of utter insignificance that I feel at the Grand Canyon or on a beach, standing amongst the redwood or staring up at the stars. It is the essence of significance to comfort your child when she’s upset, to feed her when she’s hungry. There is no feeling previously known to me that compares to the bond between Brenna-Marie and me.
It took a less than ideal circumstance to help me begin to articulate the intensity of the parent/child bond – but isn’t it always the challenges in life that help us discover more about ourselves? Brenna-Marie was sick last night – nothing serious, just an upset stomach from a new food that we introduced that did not agree with her. After waking up around midnight and crying inconsolably for a couple of minutes, she quite literally lost her dinner – all of it – while Kellye was holding and rocking her.
I quickly took Brenna-Marie, so Kellye could get cleaned up, and I immediately began doing my best to comfort my crying, scared baby girl. She was still quivering and gasping, not able to understanding what was happening or why she felt so terrible. As I held her, I experienced one of those moments I will not soon forget. As she began to calm, my daughter stared into my eyes with a look of such love and trust that I cannot begin to describe it, much less comprehend it. All I can say is that the entire universe faded away, and all that remained was Brenna-Marie and I and the bond between parent and child. During that moment, I realized that I was her Grand Canyon, her redwood forest, her ocean and her starry nighttime sky – I was everything that she needed and wanted, and she was all that mattered in my world. I have never experienced a greater feeling of significance and cannot imagine it.
I’ve been told by a number of parents to enjoy this feeling while it lasts, because the natural consequence of babies growing up is an increasingly diminished reliance on your parents. That is precisely why I had to sacrifice an hour’s worth of precious sleep to find some words to describe this amazing experience called parenthood before the memory of it fades and is lost to the unstoppable march of time. I’m happy to report that my baby girl slept comfortably and peacefully while I lay wide awake pondering the vastness of the universe and the immeasurable magnitude of my love for Brenna-Marie. Both thoughts bring me a profound sense of peace and calm.
posted by Danny Henley at 6/14/2009 09:45:00 AM
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