Because I am doing a silent meditation, I thought at her.
“Daddy? Did I do something wrong?” She implored.
I petted her vigorously. How do I tell her everything is OK without breaking silence? Hmmm.
“Daddy, I’m confused. I don’t understand. Talk to me!” She said, getting more strident, in spite of the petting.
Oh well. Molly is more important than silence. “I’m doing a week-long silent meditation. I’m being silent.” I explained.
“Is that why you haven’t been talking to me, or singing, or playing music, or watching TV?”
“Yes, Molly, that is why.”
“Can you at least belch and fart?” She asked.
“Yes, I can still belch and fart.”
“Good! Otherwise, you might explode!”
I smiled at her.
A few minutes later she exclaimed, “This is soooo boooooring.”
“It is calming”, I asserted.
“It is stupid”, she replied. “What is up with this nonsense, anyway?”
“I am trying to silence the jumbled mind.” I told her. “To be mindful. To be in the moment. To be concentrated while also being connected.”
She screwed up her face. “Dad. Look. Look at the ball over there.”
I looked. “Yes?”
“Dad, it is a ball. It is on the carpet. It rolls, it bounces, it stops rolling. It has a shape, a smell, a texture, and a taste. The ball rolls. You chase it. It bounces. You catch it. You chew on it. You rip it into pieces. Now it is no longer a ball, but it is still the ball. The ball no longer rolls or bounces, but it is still the ball.”
“Molly, you are indeed wise beyond your years.”
“There is your butt,” she went on, “it has a smell. You lick it…”
“I think I got it with the ball metaphor.” I interrupted.
“Are you sure?”
“I think I need to contemplate the ball for a while before I am ready for my butt. OK.”
“There is so much to be learned from your butt. Your butt…”
“Yes, Molly. I am sure I am not ready to contemplate my butt. I will let you know when I am ready. In the meantime, I am going to consider the ball in silence. OK?”
“Daddy, you’re weird.”
“Hey,” I said, “I’m only human.”
“More’s the pity,” she replied.
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