“Growing up, we say, as though we were trees, as though altitude
was all that there was to be gained, but so much of the process is growing
whole as the fragments are gathered, the patterns found.
Human infants are born with craniums made up of four plates that
have not yet knit together into a solid dome so that their heads can compress
to fit through the birth canal, so that the brain within can then expand. The
seams of these plates are intricate, like fingers interlaced, like the meander
of arctic rivers across tundra. The skull quadruples in size in the first few
years, and if the bones knit together too soon, they restrict the growth of the
brain; and if they don’t knit at all the brain remains unprotected.
Open enough to grow and closed enough to hold together is what a
life must also be. We collage ourselves into being, finding the pieces of a
worldview and people to love and reasons to live and then integrate them into a
whole, a life consistent with its beliefs and desires, at least if we’re
lucky.”
From : Recollections of my non-existence
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