Don't Just Do Something, Sit There by Sylvia Boorstein

Author:Sylvia Boorstein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1996-03-16T05:00:00+00:00

“Mine Mommy! Mine Daddy!”

A Lust Story

When people hear the Buddha’s explanation “The cause of suffering is craving,” they sometimes think that desire is a problem and that being spiritual means not desiring. That’s not true. Desiring is a normal part of being alive. Getting stuck, single-pointedly, in a desire that cannot be met is what agitates and confuses the mind. It doesn’t cause suffering. It is suffering.

My granddaughter Grace is two years old. She and I spent an evening together while her parents went to The Phantom of the Opera. Grace knows me well and had no problem with her parents leaving. She had waved, cheerfully, calling “Bye-bye, Mommy, Daddy.”

We spent an hour reading Sesame Street, playing with her puzzles, watching her Tubby the Tuba video. Using “mind state” terminology, you might say that Grace and I both had balanced, alert minds, free of hindrance energies.

When I noticed her beginning to wilt, I said, “Let’s get ready for bed, Grace.” She was agreeable. We got her into pajamas, and, supplied with a new bottle of apple juice, the doll she sleeps with (“mine baby”), the doll’s bottle (“mine baby bottle”) and “baby’s blanket,” Grace climbed into bed, and I tucked her in.

“Bubbe, lie down, too.”

“Okay, Grace, I’m lying down.” Five seconds of silence.

“Mine mommy! Mine daddy!”

“Soon. Very soon.”

“Mine mommy! Mine daddy!”

Grace had begun to lose her relaxed, balanced composure, and so had I. I glanced at the clock and calculated the time remaining before Sarah and Michael would return.

“Mine mommy! Mine daddy!”

“Soon. Here, I’ll pat your back.” I knew she likes to have her back patted gently, and I realized her little body was anxious because she was turning and wriggling, obviously trying to get comfortable.

“Pat back!”

“I am patting your back. Lie down. Close your eyes.”

She flips over. “Pat stomach.”

“I’m patting your stomach.”

“Pat arm!” She sticks out her arm.

“I’m patting your arm.”

“Pat other arm.” She sticks out her other arm.

“I’m patting your other arm.”

“Mine mommy! Mine daddy!”

“Soon!”

“Pat face.”

“I’m patting your face.”

It seemed to me that during the thirty-second interludes of patting—or the interludes when she became interested in her apple juice—her mommy-daddy-absent thought left her mind, and her body relaxed. “Whew,” I would think, “now, if she could just accidentally fall asleep…”

Suddenly the thought was back. “Mine mommy! Mine daddy!”

Grace never totally lost it. She never even cried. But she clearly wrestled with the discomfort of her unmet need.

I didn’t lose it, either, but I could feel my composure start to wobble. Just as Grace’s tired mind had filled with the desire for mommy and daddy, my tired mind began to entertain thoughts of the casserole I had seen Sarah put in the fridge. The more time passed, the more I thought about the casserole. “When Grace falls asleep, I’ll eat something…You just ate supper…How can you eat again?…It was just sushi…I’m hungry…The casserole is vegetables…I’ll eat again.”

“Mine mommy! Mine daddy!”

“Soon, Grace.”

An hour later, Grace fell asleep. I could tell she was sleeping because her body relaxed, her eyes stayed closed, her breathing was regular, and she dropped her apple juice bottle.

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