It is an exciting moment when after we cross the street to the mailbox together, my children and I get to share in the rewarding experience of opening our slot to see the red envelope of another Netflix movie. We hurry back to open it up and make sure we received the title we hoped for and that the DVD looks playable. In other words, I don't have to censor my comments about how other inconsiderate previous movie watchers could possibly think that compact disk technology allows for placing them face down on a counter covered with spilled sugar and sandpaper.
Our film for the evening is Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium starring the enchanting Dustin Hoffman as Mr. Magorium, an eccentric and playful toy store owner. Without spoiling the fun for those who have not seen this delightful story, it didn't take long to realize the aliveness of Dustin Hoffman's character and the very toys of his store. However, this quality escapes me as I notice a habit of my oldest son to jump up and down on our couch as he allows the energy of the film to literally carry him. His every bounce succeeds in disturbing my ability to concentrate and remain in the reality of the Wonder Emporium. I feel my body shake and vibrate with each bounce that jostles my skeleton and nerves.
And as I am gradually approaching the finale of my last frayed neuro-transmitter, I am confronted with my resistance to the energy before me and next to me on the couch. My insistence on remaining a vicarious spectator on my couch is in direct opposition to my son's jumping that rightly sought to disturb me out of my trance and into his dance. What followed then was the inner decision I made to take a seemingly insignificant, but still dramatic step from my stationary place on our couch to standing on it. I surprisingly felt truly taller, as tall as my bouncing 5 year old boy. I then began to bounce and joined in his revelry and felt myself no longer resisting, but allowing my body to synchronize with his joy. I was no longer just a spectator witnessing aliveness in an enchanting story, I was alive and authentically participating it. A celebration of enjoyment in life, its energy, and essence - prompted by the disruptive teaching of my very own child.
"I was like a boy playing on the sea shore, and diverting myself now and then, finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me." -- Isaac Newton