Discovering Dandelions

I recently took Emily to the park one day after I picked her up from the baby-sitter.  To her surprise, there were patches of white, fuzzy flowers everywhere.  At first, she did not know what to do.  She reached down, and softly grazed the top of one, jumping unexpectedly when some of the soft seeds detached from their head at her touch.  With a furrowed eye-brow, she cocked her head sideways, dusted off her hands, and pointed at it saying: "This?"  What a strange encounter to her.

"It's ok," I told her, "that's what they are supposed to do."  But she wasn't convinced.  Perhaps assuming that the first one she touched was defective, she moved on to another, only to find that the exact same thing happened.  Again, she looked up at me with the same perplexed expression, but said nothing.  I finally walked over to her, picked one up, and blew on it softly.

As the ball of fluff scattered in the current of my breath into hundreds of tiny pieces, her eyes widened with 

wonder. "Uh-oh!" she exclaimed, assuming that we did something wrong.  She is her mother's child, ever concerned with delicacy and order.  I knew this would change when I picked another and placed it in her eager hand.  Now, she could see for herself that blowing the seeds of a dandelion was, in the words of my dad, "something every kid likes to do."

"Blow," I prodded, waiting for her to follow suite.  "No," she retorted, with her voice slightly arching at the end in a way that seems to always demonstrate her casual, but settled disposition.  It must be wonderfully affirming to be that secure in yourself!

Knowing that there was no other option, I bent down and softly exhaled again, watching as the created air whisked about half of this one away.  Something clicked this time.  Her eyes widened, and then she let out a short, quick, and cautious spurt of air.  Her face lit up with excitement at the result, and she spent the rest of the day trying to recreate that moment.

Isn't that what we do on a grander scale?  Whether it's through a hobby, sharing time with a spouse, or playing with our children, we long to experience life.  But the only standard we have to measure our experience, is through what we have previously encountered.  We are little more than children running wild in a field of dandelions.  And perhaps, with the right wisdom and guidance, we can be led to not only recreate experiences, but to share them as well.