Neither of us were expecting it. There had been no preparation, no planning and no expectations. It was a routine appointment.
And then she said, "Would you like to hear Baby's heart?"
An odd sort of question, really. How likely was it that we would say no? The small, square machine became an auditory portal to a different reality. It was like Vonnegut's Euphio, but without the calamity. She said the heartbeat was strong. Yes, I thought, it has the strength of the cosmos in every iamb. It was the needle in the groove of life itself, the music of holy magic reverberating through the horn.
There are a few moments one experiences in life that make the entire world shift slightly. It's an unnerving thing. Sometimes they are terrifying moments. Sometimes they are fragile moments. Sometimes they are moments of great romance. Sometimes they are moments of immense anger. Sometimes they are moments of extreme pain. But they are always awesome moments. This was one of those moments. I felt the Earth jolt. No-one else would have noticed it, consumed by their day-to-day: work, food, sleep, toilet, television. But in that moment, that small room became Wellsian in its potential to transport us. In that instant, I was everywhere and everywhen. I heard the breathing of God.
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
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You're right. We each have moments like that in our own way.
ReplyDeleteOf course, your moment came from the tiniest of sources. What a blessing!
I am moved by the idea that the divine (whatever it is) can be find in the tiniest of things, and the largest. The micro and the macro.
ReplyDeleteA grain of sand and Jupiter. An unborn heartbeat and the milky way.
Yeah! For both my kids, that's the moment when it really became real. Such a simple thing, yet truly mind-blowing.
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