A Child's Smile
I was in a restaurant this morning when a small child, perhaps two years old, peeked over the back
of her booth and waved at me. You know the kind, great big eyes, curious and enchanted and
ready to connect with whatever human being appears before them. I waved back and was rewarded
with a huge grin. It was a grin of authenticity and accomplishment, the satisfaction of a deep need
being met. It is the proof, if I needed any, that we humans are made for connection. We are born to this.
It is our birthright, our talent and our deepest need. Connection is natural and effortless for infants,
and for two year olds peeking about in restaurants.
of her booth and waved at me. You know the kind, great big eyes, curious and enchanted and
ready to connect with whatever human being appears before them. I waved back and was rewarded
with a huge grin. It was a grin of authenticity and accomplishment, the satisfaction of a deep need
being met. It is the proof, if I needed any, that we humans are made for connection. We are born to this.
It is our birthright, our talent and our deepest need. Connection is natural and effortless for infants,
and for two year olds peeking about in restaurants.
The sad odds are that the contagious grin won’t last. The little girl will be taught not to speak to
strangers, to only wave at those she knows, to track a complex system of social norms that will
keep her from waving and making eye contact with the people who cross her path. She will grow
up and become like the 30 other people in the restaurant who did nothing to brighten my day and
are already forgotten. She will cease to freely extend the warmth I still feel in my chest hours later.
strangers, to only wave at those she knows, to track a complex system of social norms that will
keep her from waving and making eye contact with the people who cross her path. She will grow
up and become like the 30 other people in the restaurant who did nothing to brighten my day and
are already forgotten. She will cease to freely extend the warmth I still feel in my chest hours later.
Or maybe not. Maybe she will grow up in a community where adults have rediscovered their need
for connection and relearned the skills to make it happen. Maybe she’ll be surrounded by role models
who welcome those big eyes and glorious smile. Maybe the gift she offers will be gratefully accepted.
Maybe her neighbors will seek out her eyes and offer her the mutual gift of connection.
for connection and relearned the skills to make it happen. Maybe she’ll be surrounded by role models
who welcome those big eyes and glorious smile. Maybe the gift she offers will be gratefully accepted.
Maybe her neighbors will seek out her eyes and offer her the mutual gift of connection.
Cohousing communities are kind of like that. Most of us are still relearning the skills that were cultured
out of us, but we’re trying. We’ve at least learned that we need each other, that we want each other,
that it’s OK to smile and wave at the people passing by. There is hope for us, and ever so much
more hope for the generation whose community culture nurtures their need for connection and
smiles back at them no matter their age.
out of us, but we’re trying. We’ve at least learned that we need each other, that we want each other,
that it’s OK to smile and wave at the people passing by. There is hope for us, and ever so much
more hope for the generation whose community culture nurtures their need for connection and
smiles back at them no matter their age.
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