My 22 month old son is constantly communicating, although he does not yet use very many recognizable words according to most standards.  Yet, he is in constant communication.  He expresses through his thoughts, emotions, facial expressions, hand signs and gestures, and his whole body.  I don’t always pick up on, or understand, all that he is communicating, for there are many subtle layers.  But when I’m still enough in my own mind, not distracted by other demands on my attention, I experience the wonderful, joyous awareness of what my baby is saying, feeling and relating.  His language, both verbal and non-verbal, is uniquely his, genuine and honest.

As adults, we often hide our true feelings and thoughts.  For many of us, this is something we grew into somehow, by deciding it’s best to fit in, follow norms, be accepted, be liked, be good, be appropriate, be right, be obedient, be…something other than genuine and honest.  I admire that children, especially very young children that have not been taught otherwise, have permission to tell it like it is, to express what’s in their minds and hearts without hesitation or limitation.  Their entire language is an expression of their whole self and experience in each moment.  I love the honesty of children.

As I learn my sons’ language, I am reminded to practice my own genuine language.  I am reminded to notice all of the subtleties of the body’s language: the breath, posture, tension or ease.  The genuine and immediate expression of emotion I witness in my child reminds me to tune into what my own emotional body is communicating, and to honor its movement and expression.  My baby’s non-verbal communication through thought forms, or mental image pictures, helps me practice being more aware of this quiet and clear, simple and profound communication of the soul.  What thought forms am I transmitting, consciously or unconsciously?  What effect do they have on myself and others, especially my family?

What I admire and honor most about the pre-verbal language of babies is its fluidity.  There is tranquil stillness punctuated by moments of movement as the body-mind expresses its emotions and responds to experiences.  Then there is return to stillness.  I have not witnessed in my young child the kind of stuckness we adults more readily find ourselves in, where disturbing thoughts repeat like a broken record or emotions linger beneath the surface of resistance.  What jewels of wisdom our little ones offer in their unadulterated presence!

We can learn much about our own true nature, as well as our inherent state of peace and joy, simply by learning the language of our children.  It is a language of clarity, honesty and fluidity that allows for genuine experience and expression of the moment.  May we not overlook or underestimate all the wisdom our children have to offer.