I don't write as often about being a father. I find that I have been a really protective parent over the years. Something about having a life to manage that is not your own is terrifying, almost to the point of crippling.
I had a flashback the other day. I was walking along Mass Ave with a friend. It was a comfortably warm night, the type of warmth you don't have to think about. The type of night that just embraces you like it's always been there...the type of night you take for granted. The street was bustling. Plenty of people moving from one place to the next, enjoying the enveloping comfort that was the evening. Passing laughter and conversations and music filled the night air. Although the city seemed to teem with good energy, my thoughts were elsewhere. I couldn't stop thinking about my daughter. At 10 months into fatherhood, that was still a hard concept to get my head around: My daughter. I remember telling my friend that night in amazement, "I am someone's father...do you understand? I am someone's FATHER." They're only words until that life depends on your own.
We want our children to accomplish more than we have. Not simply in the sense of gaining more in this life, being more secure and having the resources needed to live comfortably, but also we want them to cultivate their Self, accomplish more spiritually and emotionally, have better relationships, become more intelligent and avoid the same mistakes we've made. It's what, I believe, any parent would want for their child. It seems to easy a thought and an emotion to feel, but such a hard thing to realize and manifest.
I sat in the middle my room. Windows open and curtains swaying to the music that is a Southern California breeze. Short nap throwback carpeting and vaulted wood beam ceilings contained the crazy experiments. A double sized bed, a desk, a corner full of dirty laundry piled upon the small woven basket that was supposed to contain it and my small TV were the only witnesses to the frankensteinian works. Another gift, another toy given to an only child had been examined. Screws and covers removed, the simple, plastic inner workings revealing the mystery of how things worked. Another cheap toy sold for profits. Now the work of converting it into something else began. Something different...
Cultivating our children is probably the single most important job a parent can have. Recognizing their individual attributes, talents and interests and helping to nourish their instinctive inquisitive nature helps them to move along the road to Self discovery. I have looked back through the corridors of my life and wished someone helped me get in front of my curiosities. I often wonder where I'd be if someone had. I find myself in agony considering and trying to ensure that I am feeding my daughter's mind, spirit and body with the things that will help her to grow. The funny thing, I discover as she grows, so do I. I think it's a part of what makes the parent-child bond so special.
I only hope that she learns from my steps, avoiding my mistakes and taking advantage of where I've been.
