My son, Teddy, has started reading; piecing together words sound by sound. It’s a remarkable experience to witness, and makes me burst with pride.

This morning, when I asked him to practice reading the words on a note card from his teacher, he was game. The first 5 times Teddy “read” the sentence, it said “Teddy did all his work.” (See the attached photo to see what was actually written.) Despite a couple minutes of coaching to practice actually reading, he wasn’t interested, and wouldn’t hear that it said something else (though of course the message is similar).

How many times in my life have I behaved this way? When have I listened to or read something juuuusssssst well enough to make some guess as to what the transmitter was working to get across, without truly listening? I know I did this while learning to play the cello in elementary school. It was a lot more work to pay attention and play what was actually written on the page than to play what I imagined the piece to be. I was skimming the page and reading only what I THOUGHT was written.

There’s a complexity to the human experience that, for me, often seems overwhelming when I attempt to communicate it. So many feelings come up about so many things so frequently, that the prospect of expressing anything in words and speech sometimes seems paltry. Even now, the thesaurus doesn’t have an answer for the exact state I’m working to get across.

When I was young, I idolized my Grandpop’s ability to speak with anyone, anywhere, about anything. His curiosity about the questions he had always seemed to win compared to the social worry of putting himself out there and connecting with a new human. It didn’t even seem to be a factor for him, which was quite remarkable to teenager-Corey. He’d speak with policemen, passers by, store clerks, and even engage telemarketers in diversions from their sales script. It was the gift of gab, his inner curiosity; and to me it was like magic.

I was about 25 when I first heard about the idea of reciprocity. It seemed like a great idea from the cosmic lens — a spiritual, communal, light side version of “quid pro quo”. There was this Pilates training I hoped to do. I was earlier on in my career, and had much more time than money. The studio owner offered me the chance to join the training, and pay for it by working shifts managing the front desk for a number of months. It felt great to have another way to consider trading with someone else. Of course, the barter system only works in certain places and circumstances these days, but it was a relief to have a way to move forward that was out of the expected “ordinary”.