Time Magnifiers

or

A Terrifying Reminder

A friend of mine called me today from the West Coast.  He is an expert in Classical Chinese Poetry and became a father three and a half years ago.  As I asked about his son, he surprised me with a note: “He has been growing so fast and kept terrifying me for these three years, every single day!”

Can parents be terrified by their own children?  His curious word choice became instantly understandable—and precise!—, once I caught sight of Beso, my 10-month-old puppy, who lay quiet at my side.  When I first got him on the New Year’s Day, he was a tiny embodiment of destructive spirit.  Within one week, he tore my backyard apart.  Meanwhile, he has become a peaceful and serene soul, gentle, obliging, and attentive to my feelings.  The pace, distinctness, and violence of his growth resembles that of my friend’s boy. 

As we adult human beings become less and less sensitive and responsive to the flow of time, less and less grateful and mournful for the coming and going of our hours, little children and animals sit alert and fierce in the swirl of life. 

Aren’t they “time magnifiers?” 

Aren’t they a terrifying reminder of change, mortality, and miracle?

Beso

 

Rui