Swaddled
What will we learn from this smaller world we are living in?
When my daughter Lucia was a baby she loved to be swaddled. From morning to night and all through the night she wanted to be wrapped up like a little burrito, her arms tucked into her chest and her legs folded into her belly. My mom once joked that Lucia’s muscles were going to atrophy if she didn’t spend some time out of the swaddle.
Being born is our first big struggle. To make this passage, the baby must battle through the birth canal (unless it is a C-section) and put up the fight of their tiny lives to navigate their way out. Then, when they arrive outside, it is overwhelming — it’s bright, loud, and aggressive. No wonder Lucia wanted to be swaddled.
During this time of world disaster, I have gone through bouts of extreme worry and anxiety; I’ve experienced a fear beyond any other in my life. Like most of us, I still fall into despair at times, but I’m aware of something else that’s present now, a feeling of calm and even joy that’s come from being in the confinement of my home. I am tapped into a sense of comfort in this containment, a relief of sorts. I feel relieved of the stressors that unconsciously plagued me when I roamed free — the compulsion to be busy and productive, the need to be out in the world socializing, politicizing, shopping, always striving to become…
