And They Say When You Have a Child You Cease to Think Deeply

Has it occurred to anyone else how comforting the Teletubbies are? Perhaps they are some incarnation of God/ess.

When I was in the midst of trying not to vomit due to the nasty stomach flu and laying very still watching the most minimal of television I happened upon them and, oh, but they were calming and, well, happy in the most serene and benign way. They knew no war. They knew no cellulite. They knew no evil mosquitoes carrying West Nile virus. They knew no world in which George W. were the ruler of the free world. And most importantly, they knew no stomach flu.

All they knew, all these simple giggling creatures knew, was that smiling baby sun and those hills over which they could scamper in all their geometric glory while giggling (don't forget the giggling, never forget the giggling). Triangles merging with squares and the colors, my God the colors...

Okay, maybe I took a little too much post-pregnancy Phenergan and perhaps my nap lasted a bit longer than normal (Note: the baby was with Grandma), but the sheer wonder of British children's television programming left me slack-jawed with wonder.

Never doubt that I don't think deeply, or haven't earned my moniker of Contemplative Chaplain. These are the things that I get paid the big Hospice bucks to contemplate. The Teletubbies as spiritual tools to calm anxiety. I've earned my keep for the day...