Bodhisattva
I believe my middle child may have been around the block a time or two.
As a toddler, he drew all faces with a short, vertical line in their forehead—a third eye, which he consistently referred to as "a hurt".
When he was three, and I told him he could feel his deceased grandfather's love in his heart, he got very quiet and then said, excitedly, "Yes, I feel it! It's growing."
Last year, I had to tell him Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter had died. He was quiet for a moment before saying, matter-of-factly, "Oh. Now he's awake."
On the sidelines at his brother's soccer practice this spring, my girlfriend observed him sitting in the grass with her daughter in lotus position, both their eyes closed and palms up.
Tonight I brought he and his older brother to a fundraiser in an historic Italianate home, for which some friends were playing. We'd never been there before, a sprawling Bohemian mansion, full of Buddha statues and prints. As we were leaving, this wondrous child of mine wrinkled his brow and asked, "Do I remember this place? Or were all those times a dream?"
At such times, I try not to let my jaw make an awkward, clunking sound when it drops to the ground.
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—Kyran, 9:06 PM
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8 Comments:
He's learning to use that 6th sense so keep encouraging him and never discount what he says.
Wow, that's pretty cool!
It is, but I am sort of expecting monks in saffron colored robes to show up for him any day now.
I think this means your son is destined to become a writer.
When I was young, I clearly remember having what I called "a watcher"; a part of me that seemed to float along externally - detached, observing. It was most active when I was alone, which was often, and was hard-wired to the quadrant of my brain that tells stories, because whenever anything happened - no matter how insignificant - I immediately began organizing the incident into narrative form so that I could tell the first person I saw.
Most often, I didn't, unless something truly interesting happened (chased by a hive of wasps, etc.) and in those cases, my "watcher" really clicked into overdrive. (Is it any wonder that I became a reporter?)
Your son's third eye sounds a lot like my watcher... though I am intrigued that he calls it "a hurt" (perhaps he has a lot of empathy for others).
Either way, given this trait - not to mention his lineage - I would wager that you've got at least one writer in the brood.
Hi Kyran: Every time I read one of your pieces I want to write something effusive to you but that would be ridiculous. But, I do want you to know that I read your site faithfully and am always impressed by your writing, your insights, your mothering and your open-armed approach to life. Keep it up - for all of us.
My son used to do this sort of thing too. All of the sudden out of no where he would start telling me these long, elaborate stories about "the times when I was alive before this". Once he started telling me about when he was a little girl living in France and his family never had any money to buy food. He said that when he and his brothers got hungry they would pretend to "eat colors". When he talked about it he had a wistful, sad look on his face. When I asked him about it later he seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.
I say you should enjoy it while it lasts. My boy is nearly 7 now and for the most part these moments have stopped. While they freaked me out at first I eventually came to love these little glimpses into my child's soul.
Been there, done that. Mine's a girl. Try looking up Indigo Child on google and let me know what you think!
Encourage him to continue, including asking him questions like you have been! He's special alright!
Children are amazing, and your story about your son gives me goose bumps! Wow. WOW.
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