I spent most of last week at my parents in Dorset looking after my 7 year old nephew Matthew as it was half term. They’re close to the sea, a short ten minute walk away but he’s always been fearful of the sea, not wanting to even go paddling. This part of the coast has very flat seas, it’s sheltered by the Isle of Wight a marked contrast to Cornwall further round the coast where there’s Newquay the UK’s surfers paradise. So there’s nice sandy beaches, and we had lovely sunny weather.
I’ve previously tried lots of things to entice him into the water from carrying him safely as I paddled in the shallows (the onlookers must have thought I was about to commit murder from the screams) to giant blow-up crocodile floating enticingly just out of reach. And yet holding the space (and the magic combination of Pirates of the Caribbean 3, and a visit to the Bournemouth Aquarium) created the readiness for him to strip down to his underpants and and run happily into the gentle waves.
I’d been tempted to take a book to read, or have my iPod secreted discreetly about my person but I decided to just be present to whatever was going to happen… And was rewarded with aquamarine cloudless skies with gentle breezes, golden warm sunshine and calm cool deep blue seas and a happy laughing 7 year old experiencing the miracle of just being alive (hunting for the Kraken, but only in the shallows).
And I notice the adults around me, reading their books and magazines eating their ice-cream oblivious to the ordinary everyday miracles of their children discovering the world in its beauty, magic and mystery.
