Just a heads up - I am jumping far forward into the parenting process in this post. It seems a bit silly to write about this now when Hazel isn't even 2 years old, however, I can't seem to get this subject out of my mind. And I realize that it will be a long time before I really have to deal with what I'm about to discuss. And that I could be totally naive and premature in the things I'm about to say. And that I have no idea how hard this will be to live and to put into practice. But I can't shake the notion of how important this is.
I happen to think, like many other parents, that my daughter is very smart. It is amazing to watch her learn, and to pick up new things all the time. Her language skills are rapidly developing, and she can do more and more with her body, mind, and social interactions every day. So, I said to my husband the other day, "Hazel is so smart! I think she's going to grow up to be a doctor who does amazing research, and she's going to cure cancer." To which my wise husband lightly replied, "What a huge expectation to put on her shoulders, babe."
I laughed, but then paused. I didn't even realize - although it was a joke - the serious implications
that my mindless, caught up in the proud parent moment, well-meaning statement
carried.
We've all seen the crazy stage moms - the women who are perhaps living out their own failed attempts at stardom/being noticed/feeling important, living vicariously through their children. (See shows such as Toddlers and Tiaras, Dance Moms, etc. ICK. ICK ICK.) We may know of a guy who decided to take over his father's family business instead of going to college... because that's what his father did, and expects him to do as well whether he wants to or not. We may have heard about the family in whom both parents went to Harvard, and have a strong expectation that their child will attend Harvard as well, or some other Ivy League school. Because it's just what people in their family do.
The last thing in the world that I want to do here is to judge how other people raise their children. I cringe at the thought. Because I know parenting is HARD. And we are all doing the best we can, and the best we know how. But I just feel it in my gut that this is important. And that it can happen to best of us. To the most loving, most well-meaning parents out there.
That we consciously or unconsciously put our OWN hopes, dreams, or expectations onto our children and who they will become. What career they will choose. Who they will marry, and if they will marry. Where they will live. What will be important to them. And I think this is something that we need to have an immense awareness of, and fight against with all our might. The human tendency for this - to dream our children's dreams, and want for them a life that WE think is going to be good, comfortable, rich, rewarding, or successful. Because it is quite possible that they will disagree. And because it can be damaging to our children, their self-esteem, to ourselves, and to our relationships with each other.
I feel, that we have to let go of our hopes and dreams of what we think our
children's lives are going to look like - what we envision for them. We have to get to know who our
children ARE as they grow and develop, not who we want them to be. Yes, we teach them when they are young and help to shape how they understand the world... but eventually they will develop their own feelings and thoughts and opinions about it all. And we have to support them
in their own paths - on their own journeys to discover themselves and what THEY love in
this life. Parenthood urges us and calls us to be in our most
self-less form... to love purely, without condition.
Now, I'm not saying that we shouldn't have hopes for our children. Or dream of their futures. We absolutely should. We should dream with an open mind and open heart. We should dream of health, peace, and fulfillment. That they discover who they truly are, and what makes them authentically happy.
When I think of Hazel's future, I am so excited for her possibilities. And I try to stay open-minded because if my dreams get too specific - then it's more likely that I'll find myself in a future state of disappointment and heartbreak for the loss of what I had envisioned. Which could be awful for us both.
What if she chooses a career that will cause her to struggle? What if she, in pursuit of her dreams, moves to another town, state, or continent? What if she falls in love with and marries someone we dislike, or doesn't like us? What if she doesn't call or visit as much as I hoped she would? What if she commits a crime? Or gets divorced? Or doesn't want children of her own? Or is gay? Or a Republican? Or a gay Republican? (Thank you, Mike Bass). What if she doesn't maintain our family traditions and values? Or what if she converts to a different faith, creed, or religion?
So what if she does? Or doesn't?
She will be who she is....and I will love her all the same. It is her life to live, after all.
All things considered, I know absolutely nothing about how this will all look in the future. And I know nothing about what it's like/how it feels to parent a teenager or adult (or a child above 20 months old) who is seeking autonomy and independence . I know nothing about how badly my heart could be broken, despite my attempts to remain open-minded and supportive. Or how hard it will be to accept all of the choices my daughter makes in her life. Or how the norms of tomorrow will differ from society today. But what I do know, is that the stakes are too high to not (at least) develop an awareness, of potential unconscious expectations. I know what I feel in my heart today; I know the kind of parent I want to strive to be.
Kahlil Gibran, master of words, says it much more gracefully than I ever could:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love, but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Saying my peaceful goodbyes to the ocean
I have never been good at goodbyes. I'm fairly good at evading them whenever I can.
It's hard to say goodbye to vacation. It's hard to say goodbye to summer, too. And it's especially hard to say goodbye to a vacation that comes at the end of summer, because then you have to say goodbye to both at the same time.
It was strange, the amount of sadness and bit of anxiety that came over me the last few days of our well-timed family vacation in Sandbridge, VA. It had been so very nice, to be away from the world for a while. Away from the emotional stress of work, the trudge of day to day life, the weight of responsibilities, the current harsh political climate, and away from some hard complexities going on in my life and the lives of those around me. The rest, the sun, the sand, and the ocean were so good for my soul.
On our last day of vacation, Mike and I had signed up to make dinner for the family. Between grocery shopping, prepping food for dinner, putting Hazel down for a nap, and then preparing dinner, I had a nice 2 hour window of time in the afternoon to enjoy the beach one last time. I kept making jokes to family members that I wanted to "say my peaceful goodbyes to the ocean." With Hazel napping inside and lovely grandparents who were willing to keep an eye on her, I made my way to the beach where I enjoyed some quiet time. I soaked up my last few rays, enjoyed my book, and dozed off to the sounds of the waves crashing repeatedly on the shore.
Then, as silly as it might sound, I felt an urge... a pull, to actually communicate with the ocean. That vast body of water, so beautiful, so alive... making me feel so small, yet so cared for in its presence. Making my problems feel so far away. Giving me perspective on the hugeness of this life, and giving me a sense of peace that no matter what, it will always carry on. So... I walked along the shore, praying silently. Feeling the smoothness of the sand beneath my feet. Smelling the salt in the air. Thanking the ocean, for what it had given me that week. For its wisdom and grace. For the restoration I felt in its company. I thanked it for its healing properties, and for what it gives to us all who are fortunate enough to visit. I expressed my gratitude for being able to afford the time and money it took to be there.
And I returned to my spot on the beach, collected my things, and started inside to make dinner for the family. And strangely, I felt at peace. A shift had occurred, and I was in a better place about letting go of our vacation and saying goodbye to summer. And perhaps some other things, too.
As I walked back to the house, it struck me how important it is to "say our peaceful goodbyes" in this life. To say goodbye to seasons that we pass through, and to thank each one for what it has given us. For how it has enriched our lives, or made us better. Or what we have learned from being there. No matter the duration of time, or how painful the goodbye is...
Because most of the time, we don't want our vacations to be over. Or to see our babies grow up. Or to realize our parents get older. Or to get older ourselves. Or to let go of loved ones, loved places, or loved careers, when it comes time to move on without them.
But how necessary it is, to accept the passing of time and the end of each era in our lives.
In the grand scheme of things, obviously, saying goodbye to a vacation is not a big deal - especially if you know that there are more to come in the future. Other, more final things, are MUCH more difficult to approach.
All things considered, I've never been good at goodbyes. But I am beginning to see how important they are, whether they are said out loud or only in our minds and hearts. The essential thing is that they are said at all. So that we may eventually find peace in the process of letting go... of each season we pass through. And in each new chapter that we face on the other side.
It's hard to say goodbye to vacation. It's hard to say goodbye to summer, too. And it's especially hard to say goodbye to a vacation that comes at the end of summer, because then you have to say goodbye to both at the same time.
It was strange, the amount of sadness and bit of anxiety that came over me the last few days of our well-timed family vacation in Sandbridge, VA. It had been so very nice, to be away from the world for a while. Away from the emotional stress of work, the trudge of day to day life, the weight of responsibilities, the current harsh political climate, and away from some hard complexities going on in my life and the lives of those around me. The rest, the sun, the sand, and the ocean were so good for my soul.
On our last day of vacation, Mike and I had signed up to make dinner for the family. Between grocery shopping, prepping food for dinner, putting Hazel down for a nap, and then preparing dinner, I had a nice 2 hour window of time in the afternoon to enjoy the beach one last time. I kept making jokes to family members that I wanted to "say my peaceful goodbyes to the ocean." With Hazel napping inside and lovely grandparents who were willing to keep an eye on her, I made my way to the beach where I enjoyed some quiet time. I soaked up my last few rays, enjoyed my book, and dozed off to the sounds of the waves crashing repeatedly on the shore.
Then, as silly as it might sound, I felt an urge... a pull, to actually communicate with the ocean. That vast body of water, so beautiful, so alive... making me feel so small, yet so cared for in its presence. Making my problems feel so far away. Giving me perspective on the hugeness of this life, and giving me a sense of peace that no matter what, it will always carry on. So... I walked along the shore, praying silently. Feeling the smoothness of the sand beneath my feet. Smelling the salt in the air. Thanking the ocean, for what it had given me that week. For its wisdom and grace. For the restoration I felt in its company. I thanked it for its healing properties, and for what it gives to us all who are fortunate enough to visit. I expressed my gratitude for being able to afford the time and money it took to be there.
And I returned to my spot on the beach, collected my things, and started inside to make dinner for the family. And strangely, I felt at peace. A shift had occurred, and I was in a better place about letting go of our vacation and saying goodbye to summer. And perhaps some other things, too.
As I walked back to the house, it struck me how important it is to "say our peaceful goodbyes" in this life. To say goodbye to seasons that we pass through, and to thank each one for what it has given us. For how it has enriched our lives, or made us better. Or what we have learned from being there. No matter the duration of time, or how painful the goodbye is...
Because most of the time, we don't want our vacations to be over. Or to see our babies grow up. Or to realize our parents get older. Or to get older ourselves. Or to let go of loved ones, loved places, or loved careers, when it comes time to move on without them.
But how necessary it is, to accept the passing of time and the end of each era in our lives.
In the grand scheme of things, obviously, saying goodbye to a vacation is not a big deal - especially if you know that there are more to come in the future. Other, more final things, are MUCH more difficult to approach.
All things considered, I've never been good at goodbyes. But I am beginning to see how important they are, whether they are said out loud or only in our minds and hearts. The essential thing is that they are said at all. So that we may eventually find peace in the process of letting go... of each season we pass through. And in each new chapter that we face on the other side.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)