Sylvia Who Giggles Incessantly

There are a lot of crying babies in the world these days - or so it seems to me based on my daily experiences at Planet Care. This has not always been the case.

When I first started working at Planet Care a little over three years ago, I remember noticing how calm and happy the babies who came into the store were. I remember marveling over the fact that Planet Care must have an enlightened clientele that understands correct child-rearing. That's an interesting expression: child-rearing. It implies spanking. So let's use another expression, shall we? How about parenting?

I have a vague understanding of psychology. But I understand this much about children: they need to feel loved.

Children are magical creatures who come from another galaxy to hang out with us Earth beings. When they are first born, they have just landed. They must acclimate themselves to their new environment. Earth is often colder and brighter than their only known world. And there is constant commotion and movement - not the gentle pulsing rhythms and murmuring voices they are used to hearing. Not the weightless rocking to and fro. They are suddenly propelled into the frenzied existence of modern society.

Infants study the world deeply. Their big round eyes search out the source of a sound, the change of light or color. They simply absorb impressions. It is miraculous to observe.

They soon reach a point in which they attempt interaction with their world. Initially, they speak with their bodies, performing a ritualistic dance with their arms and legs in response to some stimulus. They look as if they are leaping into the world, opening their bodies with wild abandon. I marvel at exactly how open children are.

Crawling is a huge leap of comprehension - orchestrating the coordinated movements of four limbs in order to propel one's body forward, or in some instances, backward. Then comes walking and talking, not necessarily in that order. The thing that remains constant, however, is the child's unceasing aptitude to absorb and process information from their environment. But parents must aid in the absolute assimilation of this information. Otherwise, the tiny beings from another galaxy become confused and frustrated.

For a while, my internal fatalist suggested that the vast multitude of crying babies indicated an impending disaster. Much in the same way animals react to an approaching storm, I imagined the babies sensed a cataclysm, either natural or man-made, that would end life as we know it. A series of earthquakes, a significant volcanic eruption and an oceanic oil devastation confirmed this theory. Worldwide economic crises, bombings and attempted bombings of civilians added to any personal anxiety I'd been experiencing about the stability of life on planet Earth. But lately, I realize that this is just the invention of a melodramatic mind and that life will continue, in some form. Even if humans destroy themselves, the planet will endure and rejuvenate itself. Or so I believe.

But there is still the problem of the crying babies.

Infants cry when they are uncomfortable. They are hungry or tired or they've soiled their diaper. They need assistance from their parents at times like these. And it seems that the less time it takes for a parent to respond to a baby's cry, the greater the likelihood that this child feels loved and valued.

I don't have a problem with crying infants.

Toddlers cry when they are tired or hungry or dehydrated. They cry when they are hurt. They can be hurt physically or psychologically. And this is where it gets tricky.

The crying babies that annoy me the most are the ones who seem to be asking their parents for a very particular kind of assistance in assimilating information from their environment. But the parents aren't listening. They do not hear their childrens' request for help. Therefore, the parents do not respond. Or they respond inappropriately.

What if children are able to sense the general level of stress and anxiety present in the supermarket as people whir by? What if they can hear the inner workings of the adults' minds:

I have 20 minutes left to get everything I need for dinner with the Watsons before I pick Johnny up from ball practice and drop Susie off at her piano lesson. I hope she remembered to take the dog out. That's all I need is to clean up dog shit. I'm still working on the stain from last week. I don't ask much. Damn! I forgot toothpaste. I'll swing by that aisle after I find the tortillas. Did they rearrange? I can never find anything here. Jesus. I better stop soon. I bet I'm up to $100. If I go over budget....no! I cannot go over budget. Gas. Lights. New shoes for Johnny. Braces! Jesus. Car needs to be tuned up. I can fit that in on Tuesday after my 3:30 with Dana. Watch where you're going, jackass! Jesus people are so rude!

It's enough to make me cry.

Maybe they hear beyond the minds of the adults. Maybe they hear the sea creatures crying in distress. Maybe they hear the impoverished, the hungry, the homeless, the citizens of the world living in a war zone. Maybe it is all too much to bear.

Maybe the crying babies simply need reassurance from their parents. And maybe the parents don't know how to provide this reassurance. Maybe the parents are seeking reassurance themselves. But they seek reassurance through the acquisition of material possessions, through food and drink and the attempt to satisfy any addiction that presents itself as immediately satisfiable.

I find myself increasingly irritated by the presence of so much unhappiness. The crying children do not irritate me. I am irritated by the parents of the crying children. Not because I feel like the crying children need to be stifled. No. The crying children need to be heard by their parents. And the parents need to respond to the cries of their children, not in the way they respond to their own internal cries - through the acquisition of material possessions, through food and drink and the attempt to satisfy any addiction that presents itself as immediately satisfiable. They need to respond from a place of love and compassion. But that would require the parent to be still and quiet in their hearts and minds so that they could really listen.

One anomaly exists: a toddler named Sylvia.

Sylvia has a remarkably astute nature. She observes and understands most everything around her. Or so it seems to me. She processes information quickly and assimilates its meaning. And then she giggles. Quietly. Sylvia giggles.

I hear her approach. When I tell her hello, she giggles. Her gaze draws me in. I look at her long and quizzically. She giggles at me. I grow increasingly mystified and delighted. And she continues to giggle.

I am removed from form and function in an instant. All that matters is a girl named Sylvia and her giggle - which somehow reassures me and lightens my heart. This child named Sylvia, this bodhisattva, shows me the true meaning of enlightenment. It incorporates the removal of worldly burdens by transcending the material realm of desire and suffering. And what happens when worldly burdens are removed? Nothing is left but the giggles.