When he's not sleeping (or crying!) he is constantly looking out into the world and absorbing what he sees. Watching my now 6-month old grandson observe the world through his fresh eyes, I conclude that there's not much I can teach him about awareness. Words give us power, as do stories we "spell" them out. They can evoke the dark side of that experience (the Brothers Grimm, the late Maurice Sendak) in such a way that it becomes less scary, more easily manageable: We discover, even as children, that ogres can turn into friendlier beasts and giants can be slain. They help us to make sense of our experience of the world with the understanding that we share so much with others, and often serve to heal the wounds the world can easily inflict. It's partly about the sensual pleasure of the spoken word, partly about the images created in our minds - and in part of course about the "message" they convey. I can listen with as much rapt attention to a fairy tale as I ever did. I, for one, have never grown out of them. Children's stories and children's poems hold a special delight.
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