By Meghan Peterson, PhD.
Cutting through the noise of our thoughts – our thoughts about other people’s thoughts, our thoughts about there being too many thoughts or too few thoughts – can be exhausting at the end of a long day, week or month.
Cutting through the noise of 21st century life, particularly for the social media/online/technology-driven millennial, can seem impossible at times. The quack of a text message alert, the Shhhhoooop! of a new e-mail, the ding of a Words with Friends game, the chime of a Facebook notification – this constant buzzing brings home the chaotic, hectic, frantic mess of our making and in our own exhausted image.
The communicative mechanisms without which millennials may not know what to think, say or do, are becoming more burdensome and gruelingly energy-sucking than they are worth. For many millennials, checking the phone once more before heading to sleep is just as common as brushing teeth or drinking that last sip of water.
Now, in due diligence to my millennial generation, I should issue a disclaimer that I greatly appreciate the ease of communication and information at my fingertips. But singing the praises of technology has its limitations, too. Back to the topic at hand.
This is why bedtime rituals of a toddler raised by millennial parents can be distinct and refreshing – even downright disquieting.
“Night night” time is something to behold. There is the typical sequence of second or third dinner for the little human, followed by the evening tour of the night sky (cloudy nights are difficult, as inquiries about why the moon is not visible usually ensue), then capped off with a parade of books. Each evening, honorary members of this parade are Little Owl’s Night and Goodnight Moon. Always. Without fail.
Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon is pure genius. She (along with Clement Hurd as illustrator) capture what it means to be a child and boil this down to its essence: imagination, unbounded love, tenderness, sweetness. The classic work chronicles how wonderfully drawn-out, methodical, deliberate, and mindful the process of saying goodnight can be. For a toddler, saying goodnight is more than a phrase. It is a practice of heart and soul. It is something that social media, technology, and data can never condense. The baby bunny featured in Goodnight Moon says “goodnight” to every object, every creature, every star.
I think perhaps the most moving part of the book is toward the end, when Brown writes:
“Goodnight nobody…
Goodnight stars
Goodnight air
Good night noises everywhere”[1]
Here, I read an emphasis on finding value in solitude (Goodnight nobody). It is healthy to embrace quiet and stillness in this mad-dash, anxiety-filled society. I read an emphasis on appreciating the natural world (Goodnight stars Goodnight air). Above all, I read in these words a call to value the goodness that only evening quiet can bring. Intuitively, children remind us that saying Goodnight has the unique power to bring nourishing resolution and calm to a tired spirit.
So, Goodnight moon. Goodnight summer. May we begin the upcoming autumn season with renewed energy, clarity, focus, and imagination – in which cows ump over moons, big and little bunnies alike look out into the open air instead of staring down at phone screens, and millennials say goodnight to those devices and the noise they bring.
The moon is brighter anyway and chances are, more beautiful and quieter, too.
[1] Margaret Wise Brown (illustrations by Clement Hurd), Goodnight Moon. 1947: HarperCollins.
