There is something about sprouts. New life grows the fastest, so fast you almost see it happen, which is as near to witnessing magic as you can get. It’s like nature doesn’t want you to see her working, so she hides it all where you can’t see, which is why we don’t feel the Earth moving and we don’t know the multiplication of our own cells. But nature comes closest to showing her hand when life’s just emerging. It’s a sacred moment and I’ll honour it in any way I can, without even thinking about it.
We witness new shoots coming up from their seeds. We run mold experiments on petri dishes, just for the thrill of it. We experience birth in our living room — at this moment, we have about 20 blind baby hamsters wiggling in their nests, maybe 10 more baby mice, and 8 baby rabbits with more on the way. For no other reason than that we love to see it all happen.
The sacred magic of new life is a damn delicate thing. Magic gets destroyed so easily. And new life is the most vulnerable.
Watching new life isn’t all that easy for me. Sometimes I cry when I see chubby wee ones sitting shopping carts. Because when I was little, my father and some others near as much destroyed me like stomping on a baby bird fallen out of it’s nest. So much so that I don’t think I could ever bear to look after a wee one of my own. It’s too much. In my dreams, my daughter’s name is Storey and I couldn’t bear to see her cry at all.
Having baby hamsters, baby mice, baby rabbits isn’t a whole lot easier. But on the other hand, I value new life so much that I need to do something to honour it. I need to hold space for it.
My house is full of toys, crayons, stuffed animals. There’s no children here, except for all the ones in me. It’s complicated sometimes. It might look bizarre from an outside perspective. But in here I’m holding space for new life in every way I can. All things wee are given so much love here. We have ice cream for dinner and we have all the cupcakes we want. Anything goes.
And when I wake up to 8 baby rabbits nibbling at my toes, running out from under the bed, my inner wee ones heal.