For My Son

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2014/11/for-my-son/

IMG_2146My son, with eyes as wide as a midnight sky.

I want him to always ask “why?”

Even when he knows the answer, I want him to ask “why” again.

Because each “why” should lead to another until his x lines up with the all the “whys” and he finds the ordinate of belief and reason—the point of infinite depth, muscle to soul cohesion.

When he goes to school, I don’t care for him to learn about dead presidents and wars upon wars.

I want his desk to be bare feet on wet dirt and his pencil, a shovel.

The only test that matters I’ll tell him, is this: How far are you at any moment from who you really are?

If you don’t know, stop, breathe, go slow, remember, you are never that far.

And if you ever feel lost, I’ll remind him, of his personal compass––his own two hands.

I want him to wear his heart not on his sleeve but the center of his palms. So each time he holds anything, it’s from the bottom of his heart. I’ll say:

“This is a good place to start. Do everything out of love. Do everything out of love.”

When you come to a fork in the road and you don’t know which way to go.

Take the high, because honey, if there’s one thing I know about the low—it’s that you reap what you sow.

My son says mom, I love you more than chocolate bagels with cloud sprinkles. And I say, I love you all the way to Jupiter and back down, but slow like rain returning to the ocean.

Because I want him to feel life and love—but in slow motion.

If I have I one wish for you it’s that your heart just keeps expanding and when the wind blows hard you don’t fall, just lean—because you’re rooted, not just standing.

You see, there’s a gear and it’s for landing but be sure only to use it when necessary because otherwise, high above the trees, you see the panoramic view. You’ll see the mountains to the sea and all the inlets and valleys in between.

And these valleys you should walk on moonless nights.

To know the depth of your inner being, that is your birthright.

And the man you’ll be when you walk through will give you a whole new sense of the saying “be” not “do.”

When you face yourself head-on there’s no need to ever hide.

There’s no need to “play it cool” no place for empty pride.

And remember take this all, take this all in stride.
Life can be a series of disappointments and getting over disappointments.

It can also be a dance, danced backwards and a song where every note is just a little off.

But your job is not to make a perfect life but to fully own an imperfect one. 

Your job baby, is when the monsters come out of your closet, not to run, not to go out and buy a gun but to learn that this life is to be lived, not won.
~

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Stability

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If this is true, perhaps INSTABILITY can be summed up as the inability to release attachment to the changes taking place.

I think we have this idea that just like “happiness”, “stability” is this type of “destination-emotion” that we somehow eventually arrive at. Instead, it seems more moment to moment. And in that moment of conscious choice to adapt, or release our grasp of what we know, we find stability. It’s almost like the balance that exists between steps- the innate and subconscious release of one footing to the next.

The Space Between

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In ancient traditions from around the world there are teachings upon teachings of ways to quiet the mind, to hear the “inner voice”. There is a notion that in absence, exists everything we are outwardly seeking.

I’ve come to believe that opposed to leading a life in complete austerity, there is use in culling through the noise, being acutely aware of each note and it’s particular pitch.  Just as a sad song played beautifully, can bring joy, so can life surprise and inspire us to hear each new song with a more well-trained ear.

It’s just that more often than not we forget there is music even playing. The monotony becomes monotone, it becomes white noise and the space between, unrecognizable. And what if life is just this? What if we have it all backwards and we need to learn to listen for the silence not the sounds?

What if we asked each other,  “What do you hear when you’re not hearing? What do you feel when you’re not feeling? and what do you ultimately seek when you’re not seeking?”

Raw, Dirty, Beautiful

photo 2 (1)I like bendable things. The things that bend and stretch and start out one color but due to dirt or food or both turn into something else completely in your hands-kinda like putty. I remember as a kid opening the little egg-shaped container and rolling it around the kitchen table, stamping the newspaper and then stamping my hand with backwards letters.

We seem to have it all skewed. We seem to think so often that those parts of our lives, the ones we would rather recreate into a whole new story with different characters, are what separates us from others. In truth, I think its what binds us- the raw, the dirty and the beautiful. Maybe its even in this sequence that we begin to articulate and integrate these moments- at first feeling the rawness, then the shame or discomfort, only to be followed by the allowing and the intangible beauty of seeing something so out of place, fit perfectly together with our own evolution.

I like to look for these memories now. The ones that hide out like cunning children avoiding punishment in the alcoves of our minds. I like to see them emerge from the darkness, mud on their tiny faces and stolen joy in their hands clasped tight behind their backs. I just invite them. Nothing more, than invite them with no other agenda to come out. It’s in this space of agendaless authenticity that these little ones begin to speak with their eyes, and in moment-transform.