Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


To be with our baby is to wait. Not for what is new, not again and again, it is not a waiting that interrupts itself, it is not a state either. Waiting is our background. Our baby forces us into this patient attitude, forces us to stay in the present. Here (he is calling — in his inimitable way, superior to language), here, here, everything happens! Everything. The ability to wait seems to be innate in us. With a little compulsion (on the baby’s part) it even gets easy to direct our gaze at our baby and fulfill our (equally innate) role as guardians and protectors. A simple exercise? Hardly, for already the baby is starting to reach out from the present (here, on the changing table, he’s twisting to the side, wanting to pull the bottle of oil from the narrow drawer in the corner, putting our diligence while cleaning his behind to a severe test, just when we were doing so well), just as he always reaches out from the present in order to show us (anew, again and again), that waiting is at least an art, at least a daily service.




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