Not Yet a Thought

The eyes are open, but the body and mind are still asleep.

There are a few moments in the early morning (or late morning, depending on the season), when a child opens his eyes and sees nothing. Perhaps it’s just the first instinct and that’s what happens in the natural order of events. Then there’s more movement and perhaps turning of the head, a few more blinks of the eyelids, and a paternal cuddling of a beloved stuffy.

I can walk near the bed and he doesn’t see me or at least he doesn’t acknowledge me as a being yet in his range of what exists in the world.

There is no expression in the eyes or mouth or anywhere on the face, it is pure and innocent. No emotions, no joy or anger, nothing at all. The few moments between unconscious sleep and the consciousness of the day. If I could bottle up the moment, it would sell for $14.95 per 25 milliliters and come in a dropper bottle. It would sell like hot-buttered buns to those who know longer know of these precious and rarely witnessed moments but are curious enough to want to experience them again.

You might say that it’s the innocence or purity of youth, but I’m not sure that’s accurate. I believe it’s more of an absence. It’s the absence of all of our many, many protective layers that surround us from who we really are. The layers are added, consciously or not, over the course of the day and are shed when we return to a sublime state of sleep. But the core of ourselves lies within and wants to enjoy the warm sunshine of the morning as well. We lather it in sunscreen, hats, and shade, but for a few moments in the morning, our core would also like to live, to see the light of the day with its own view and just for those few seconds, exist.