A Benevolent Universe: Through the Eyes of a Child
by Jennifer Iannolo
I recently met a little lady who, though she stands but a few feet tall, has had a greater impact on my thinking than many of the adults I have met. Her name is Livy.
Her innocent spirit is one that evokes the very theme of a benevolent universe, where the world is a place of exploration, and a source of knowledge for one’s individual curiosity. Her parents have taken great care to ensure her environment is one that is conducive to such adventures, so she has no reason to fear that disaster waits around every corner.
In observing Livy’s approach to the world around her, my premises about children have been shaken to their very core.
I had always held disdain for the idea of motherhood — the children I've observed are often so abhorrent, I've been unable to fathom torturing myself in such fashion. It never occurred to me that there might be other alternatives to parenting; ones that defy everything we think we know.
Children must be coerced. They are unable to motivate themselves. Punishment will teach them self-discipline. Their parents must hover over them every moment. They must be padded, helmeted, insulated, protected, and sterilized.
If she could, Livy would probably make a great big raspberry at such statements. You see, she isn’t interested in the ridiculous thoughts of boring adults who might try to impose them on her spirit.
Livy is self-motivated. If she is not engaged by what is happening around her, she seeks out activities that satisfy her. She doesn’t cling to her mother’s leg, begging for attention. She does not fall apart if she falls and scrapes her knee. She might cry at the initial pain, but then she brushes herself off and gets on with her day.
I was able to observe her quest for discovery, as she tested the limits of her environment and herself. At eighteen months she has the dexterity to navigate a set of stairs, climb onto a table, and drink from a cup. No one needed to teach her these things — she figured them out for herself. The confidence she exudes is a proper result of this kind of self-mastery.
This happy little girl does not throw temper tantrums when she cannot have her way. Sure, she cries, but it is for so brief a moment that you can see her become bored with the effort and move on to something more interesting.
What shocks me most is that while I am rarely able to stand the company of children for more than a few hours, I lived in the same house with Livy for five days, and did not experience one single moment of intolerance, aggravation, or disdain. Was she on her best behavior? Perhaps. But even so, to have this kind of reaction to a child has made me think twice.
If this is Livy as a baby, I am almost unable to comprehend what she will be like as an adult. There is so much she will not have to endure, such as cynicism, ridding of baggage, fear of success or failure, or feelings of inadequacy. Her parents have provided her with tools that would render such things utterly ridiculous. Her life is a simple but profound pursuit — an understanding of the facts of reality. I look forward to watching Livy grow and evolve, and to the day when she and I can talk about these things. I think she might become one of my favorite people.
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