Tuesday, January 15, 2008
WATERS
When I was younger, whenever I felt a little crazy, I would hop in my car and drive to the beach. I favored hard-to-get-to spots such as one of the Marin Headlands beaches that can only be reached via a crumbly hillside trail that is clearly marked "Closed" (a warning that never seems to deter local residents - there were always loads of people on this particular beach). Upon arrival, I would lie directly on the sand - no mitigating towel or blanket - digging myself ever so slightly down into the earth - and let the heat of the sand and the sound of the waves slowly pulse the craziness out of me. I did this a lot in my 20's. The sound of all that water rushing up to meet the land and dashing away again is the most comforting sound I know - it mirrors the pitch and pace of our own breaths and heartbeats - it is the sound of life itself. It is a sound I could trust, even when I didn't trust myself.
And now in my 30's, it seems that I have become the ocean, and my children are the ones lying half-buried in the sand, calmed and caressed by the tidal sounds emanating from my body. When my son is feverish or wakened by nightmares, I lie on the floor next to his bed with a hand on his body making slow, rhythmic, tones with my voice - not music, just sound, in waves - and it calms him until he can finally let himself relax into sleep again. When Miss V cries, my husband and I pick her up and make load whoosing sounds into her ear (recommended by the Baby Whisperer I think!), and she immediately quiets, lulled by the same sort of consistent noise she experienced in the womb as my blood rushed to and fro.
In pregnancy, one's body becomes an entire tidal ecosystem, as is evidenced by the rising fluid levels in all parts of the body. One of the many strange features of the post-partum period is how much you have to pee, as all this extra fluid, no longer needed to buoy and sustain the baby, is released. I wonder if the fact that we all begin life as aquatic creatures explains our deep fascination with the sea, as though we understand that this breathing of air is a new and temporary thing, not our original source of sustenance.
...to be continued...
When I was younger, whenever I felt a little crazy, I would hop in my car and drive to the beach. I favored hard-to-get-to spots such as one of the Marin Headlands beaches that can only be reached via a crumbly hillside trail that is clearly marked "Closed" (a warning that never seems to deter local residents - there were always loads of people on this particular beach). Upon arrival, I would lie directly on the sand - no mitigating towel or blanket - digging myself ever so slightly down into the earth - and let the heat of the sand and the sound of the waves slowly pulse the craziness out of me. I did this a lot in my 20's. The sound of all that water rushing up to meet the land and dashing away again is the most comforting sound I know - it mirrors the pitch and pace of our own breaths and heartbeats - it is the sound of life itself. It is a sound I could trust, even when I didn't trust myself.
And now in my 30's, it seems that I have become the ocean, and my children are the ones lying half-buried in the sand, calmed and caressed by the tidal sounds emanating from my body. When my son is feverish or wakened by nightmares, I lie on the floor next to his bed with a hand on his body making slow, rhythmic, tones with my voice - not music, just sound, in waves - and it calms him until he can finally let himself relax into sleep again. When Miss V cries, my husband and I pick her up and make load whoosing sounds into her ear (recommended by the Baby Whisperer I think!), and she immediately quiets, lulled by the same sort of consistent noise she experienced in the womb as my blood rushed to and fro.
In pregnancy, one's body becomes an entire tidal ecosystem, as is evidenced by the rising fluid levels in all parts of the body. One of the many strange features of the post-partum period is how much you have to pee, as all this extra fluid, no longer needed to buoy and sustain the baby, is released. I wonder if the fact that we all begin life as aquatic creatures explains our deep fascination with the sea, as though we understand that this breathing of air is a new and temporary thing, not our original source of sustenance.
...to be continued...
