When I had my daughter I knew nothing about babies. The pregnancy has been a shock, arriving long after I’d relinquished procreation and moved on. I remained in delighted shock through the entire pregnancy. Even in the last stretch, as I went to the hospital, as I stood rocking for 20-some hours with my husband using a wire gizmo to scratch my head, as I tried everything my midwife suggested and then savored the epidural trance state of rapt focus as I pushed in a monumental full moon dance with my baby to bring her out—even then I still couldn’t quite believe I was pregnant. After her arrival, the surprises just keep coming. So beginning the whole thing in shock may have been a divine clue to what I was getting into.
One of the many things that’s taken me aback is the subtle but undeniable sense of/for presence that babies have. We all know the 5 senses, and probably the major 7 (adding on proprioception and the vestibular sense). Some more complete lists go easily into double digits, including things like temperature and pain perception. In the past 7 months my daughter has shown me what I’ll call the 8th major sense, falling quickly on the heels of (and entangled with) proprioception and the vestibular sense: Sense of Soul. By which I mean: Babies sense if you are present, with them, THERE in a full bonafide way, or, if you’re not.
This isn’t just about bodily presence or proximity, though the enfleshed soul is the only kind they care about. (Incidentally their wisdom in this regard is a deep and right rebuttal to any who have ever purported soul could be otherwise.) This is about whether your physical presence is ensouled—i.e. are you there fully present to them, without filters or distraction or interior agendas or half-measure attention? The first time I realized she could sense when I was there but tuned out, it was unmistakeable. When I’m with her, before her, all heart-body-and-soul there is a gentle focusing flash of brilliant vitality in her eyes that allows communion with me. When I’m there but not THERE this opening is withdrawn, and she waits for when the offering should be made again.
She is uncanny in her accuracy; there is no fooling her, no way to pretend the presence. I’m either with her as a soul—without pretense or hiding—or I’m not.
The gorgeous feature of babies’ Soul Sense is that it’s easier to meet them in that sense than the prior description might suggest. They don’t bargain with it, or bring expectations of perfection to it, as adults would. They want our souls through the sheer simplicity of unguarded, authentic attentiveness, through the honesty of being singularly with them when we’re with them.
Depending on the day and the phase of development, it doesn’t mean sitting before my child 24/7 without ever breaking her gaze, with no interruptions of distance. She’s taught me how to be free and easy with Soul Sense. It can be enough to be with her in the room, and let her clamber over me every so often, so we can share a few moments of unadorned connection and before she moves on to her next form of play. Or, if I pause what I’m doing and wave to her and share a look with her, all without having to say anything. Or, if I give myself over to however she’s playing, and join her as a companion in delight with no purpose other than delight for delight’s sake.
I’m always learning and re-learning from her example, her gestures of guidance from some other realm of cosmic knowing, about how Soul Sense is the elemental one, and so easy to fulfill when we quit trying, set aside everything else, and let a baby show us how it’s done.