Beginners...

Life is busy. As I get older, it gets busier. There seems to be a never-ending amount of "stuff" to get done, and I get swept up in the minutia of it all more than I would like. Work, and bills, and mortgages, and grocery shopping, and fixing whatever needs to be fixed in the house, and....well, you know, the list just goes on.
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The home repairs and remodels are the worst though. Whenever I get one thing done and cross it off the list, lo and behold, some new project pops up and takes its place. It's like my house is possessed by some phantom from another dimension whose sole purpose is to keep me running around like a blue assed fly. Maybe Home Depot has figured out how to channel these phantoms and have released them out into the world. I go to that stupid store A LOT and I see many guys shambling about with the same look on their face as mine. Everyone's clutching their little lists of stuff to buy and hoping to god that the line to check out isn't like, a thousand miles long.
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ANYWAY. When did all this busy pace begin? Of course, I'm not alone in asking this question I'm sure. Pretty much anyone who is trying to make their way in this world as an adult with even a modicum of responsibility feels the pinch of this busy life. The thing is, I don't remember it always being like this.
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Well, there are moments when I look at my children that I am reminded of a time when life was much, much different.

Everything to them is interesting. Everything is something to investigate. All of it seems to have some element of fun in it. For example, they will crouch down and watch ants as they hurriedly travel by on the ground. Or airplanes, they really love to point out every plane that flys ahead. Swings, dandelions, crayons, dogs, shoes. All of it. They are interested in all of life.
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There are moments when I'll break from my own to-ing and fro-ing and really sit down with the kids and join in whatever it is has caught their attention for that moment. It's nice. For a brief point in time I don't think about anything else and I can briefly feel the fascination they do.
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It's like that whole Zen concept of "Beginner's Mind". Approaching everything as if it is new and you have never been exposed to it before. I suppose much of childhood is like this in the sense that we are born like little Zen masters. Little Yodas running around with the Beginner's Mind until we move into adulthood where it all becomes tempered and difficult to retrieve on command. Our ability to retain that pure fascination becomes only a whisper.

But hey now, don't get me wrong. By no means do I wish to regress back to childhood. Believe me, I don't pine for it in that way. I mean, pooping one's pants, mercurial moods, and constant drooling is not something to yearn for (but I guess we get in our old age anyway), however, it is like a true gift to be reminded of a time when all was good, all was interesting, and all was pure.
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As parents we are lucky enough to have moments where we live vicariously through our children.