We are born with arms wide open, and we die in much the same way. It is that which we carry, in the time between, that defines us.
The newborn, caught in the primordial stew of beginnings, is unable to recognize the difference between self and other. She grasps and roots at inanimate objects with the same voracity she reaches for her mother. It is a time of differentiation, a time of definitions
The toddler understands more of his surroundings His eyes survey the landscape and fall lovingly on one gleaming object or another. The word mine dribbles from his mouth as he learns the pleasure of lust. The pleasure of ownership. He lugs his baubles with him and looks longingly when his line of vision is distorted; object permanence has long been mastered.
The school age child shoulders a mountain of books. A transition has occurred from ownership of inanimate objects to attainment of knowledge. She transports with her a means to an end. She holds in her precious hands the tools that will lead to an as yet ill-defined version of success.
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