Holy Mammoth

"Not only do we live among the stars, the stars live within us.” ― Neil deGrasse Tyson

Maeve is so articulate these days, and so talkative, that it takes time to listen to the chatter and realize what it is she talks about all the time.  And when you listen more carefully, this is what you hear.
Mammoth has BIG tusks, eats carrots and grass, Jupiter is HUGE, has many storms, Neptune is the last planet, the tree is SO BEAUTIFUL!

This is her constant hymn to the universe, her recital of everything that amazes her or sparks her interest.  This is what she says when she thinks I'm not listening, this is her recital of what's really going on.

My daughter lives in a state of holy awe, like a monk coming out of years solitude and silence and seeing the world so clearly in all its perfection.  Her daily experience is painted with the brush of wonder, so she finds it worth pointing out to me, daily, that the sky is so blue!  When she is read books about the woolly mammoth, she pronounces it holy, and who's to say that an extinct, ice-age mammal the size of a double-decker bus isn't one of the holier things around? 

She reminds me of the astronomer Tycho Brahe, who according to popular legend, would not gaze at the stars without wearing his courtly robes, the formal wear he would have worn to approach the King.  Her approach to the world she is discovering every day is to be amazed first, and then learn what she can so she can tell others how amazing it all is.

In Maeve's world, the holy and the amazing are one and the same, and what amazes her becomes part of her litany of facts that she recites at the drop of a hat, to remind herself and anyone else present of the utter beauty and fascinating nature of the universe.  Some of her facts don't make that much sense to me, like how Tyrannosaurus Rex apparently is stepping in time.  You will never hear me question or correct statements like that though, they may just be too mystical for my grownup mind, and no, she hasn't seen Mary Poppins.

I consider it part of my spiritual practice to try and enter my daughter's world of wonder and sense of the holy on a daily basis.  She is my door to my own wondering self, and we watch the sky together, amazed at what we can see.  The half-moon seems like more of a mystery than ever, exploring and explaining the world to and with my daughter is an everyday adventure.