The 7th Year

Ah, spring! Truth be told, I'll always be a fall loyalist but as soon as I see green shoots come up from the earth or hear a robin calling while we're eating dinner by the light of the sun, I start to warm to spring. Another added benefit of spring is celebrating my April baby! Spring babies remind me of the truth in the cycle of life, the basic wisdom within all of us that tells us it's wise to bring new life into the world after the frost when everything is softer.

I also enjoy that spring break falls shortly before my son's birthday because it gives a unique opportunity to be with him for a length of time and truly see him for who he is, where he is at this moment. The couple months leading up to his birthdays tend to be challenging. Just like the stems tentatively rising up, he is incredibly sensitive. Any shift in the wind can blow him over and it shows in how quickly his face can flush, how the tears seem so close and so ready to spill out at the first sign of any hurt, any slight - perceived or real. It's ALL real during this time and I've learned we just have to ride it out.

While some children delight in yanking out a tooth that's dangling by one last thread, my guy cries and howls about how scared he is, how bad it hurts, that he just wants it to be OUT. These last few weeks we've had several conversations about all the reasons why it's so wonderful and such a gift to be a very sensitive person. Of course it's awful to see something that should be "no big deal" or that you know still needs to occur another 20 or so times become a two day saga, and of course you try not to imagine the day the hurt will come from someone or something outside himself. When a friend turns away or a heart is broken you know you'll have the same conversation then about how bad it hurts, how scary it is and that you just want it to be over.

During these times I feel acutely aware that all children, and yes, all adults are highly sensitive beings. We all have within us something that strikes a nerve, quickens a pulse. Some of us may try to ignore or avoid those triggers but they are still there. I take comfort when I see my son working through this time at his own pace, in his own way. I see the evidence in the repetitive patterns in his drawings and paintings, the way his shoulders and jaw relax when he sinks into his knitting projects, the way he seems to go into a trance as he dribbles a soccer ball back and forth, back and forth across the field.

According to Rudolf Steiner, the seven year change is of major significance. And it doesn't stop there - the seven year cycle continues on. I'm sure there are other children going through this change who are being told expressing themselves during this time makes them "a baby" but as I think about the extensive changes we all go through every seven years, from the cellular level outwards, I think, "EXACTLY! You're 7! You are a baby!" During times of transition we should expect less, pressure less, laugh more, touch more and move more slowly. As parents our knee jerk response is to label this transition "difficult", demand our expectations be met, demand attention be paid to the task at hand. Yes, there is a time to focus inward, to follow instruction from others but this is not that time. I find lately that my son tunes me out and argues vehemently about simple daily tasks yet instantly tunes in when the conversation is framed in learning about something. Anything. This curiosity to soak in the new, to tune into the outside world is at the core of the seven year change and I'm reminded that in order to foster these changes in the most peaceful way possible we need to "feed what's hungry." If we truly see ourselves as beings rooted in nature, then during times of conflict or growth it only makes sense that we tune out the monotonous, the voices of others and stretch outward tentatively, carefully, soaking up the knowledge the world has to offer, just as the sprouts soak up the sun.

As a wise man once reminded us, "Take care of yourself, and each other."