There are mental exercises that are given to people for many purposes, such as relaxation, meditation, hypnosis and self-hypnosis, for which I have an incredible inability to complete successfully. As hard as I try to clear my mind when I am asked to do so, images keep appearing regardless of my efforts. If I am asked to pick and animal and then be the animal in my mind, I am just not any good at being able to simply pick one. Instead, a process of indecisiveness rules my head and by the time I have made up my mind, the mental exercise is typically all or almost all over. The same thing happens if I am asked to imagine that I am in a particular place, like the beach, or the forest. As hard as I try to transport myself to the desired mental location, I eventually find myself in the real place in which I am at, and lose the opportunity to be part of whatever relaxation exercise I am participating in. What is most frustrating about this is that in reality I have a great imagination and if I am not put on the spot to utilize it, I can easily fly away in my mind to a million different places and become anything I want at will. It is the outside request or demand for me to utilize my imagination for which I am not able to comply with unless I am given much more time than most other individuals.
Throughout the years I have purchased many different audio lessons on how to meditate, or do a variety of relaxation and meditation exercises. The result is always the same, in the middle of the exercise I simply fall asleep. Either I relax so well that I pass out, or I am not able to focus and eventually just tire and fall into the joyful pleasure of deep sleep. When I have asked others that are experts or simply good at doing this kind of thing, they all tell me that it takes practice. Well, I practice myself to sleep every single time! I even enrolled in a class once and simply found myself so frustrated after the event that I quickly lost interest in doing it again. I can only assume that these kinds of things are just not meant for me, and I will probably never be able to experience their benefits. I am not by nature a hyperactive individual, so I doubt that the real reason for my lack of meditative ability is not so much because my mind is in some kind of overdrive mode, but rather because I am missing some essential key to this puzzle. Even though this does bother me somewhat because of my obsessive desire to experience this mental state, I have pretty much given up on trying for the time being.
Years back, when my youngest son was born, I did have an amazing experience that even today still feeds my desire to be able to learn how to put my mind in a passive state of relaxation. My second son was no more than a few days old. In an effort to give my then wife some time to rest I had taken the baby downstairs to care and watch while she got some well deserved sleep on an early Saturday afternoon. This child contrary to our first born was much less fuzzy and easier to put to sleep. Wanting to bond with the baby I had put a great CD that I own with music intermixed with sounds from the tropical rain forest from Puerto Rico. I had used this CD in the past to relax and found it very soothing myself. A few songs into the CD as I was rocking the baby to sleep I closed my eyes while his light newborn baby body laid still over my chest and shoulder. Suddenly, from nowhere that I could understand, images of stars came into my mind as if we were both flying through space at what seemed to be amazing speed. My heart started to race in excitement while my mind tried to comprehend what it was that I was actually experiencing. It was so exhilarating that I feared to open my eyes wondering if that would cause it all to end. However, being the skeptic and scientifically minded person that I typically am, I opened my eyes to acknowledge that I was not dreaming. As my sight revealed that I was still sitting in the rocking chair in our family room at home, my heart continued to race as if I had been sprint running. Then I closed my eyes again, and woooooosh...there I went again, back into space with star after star moving so quickly past me that they would leave curved streaks of light in their path. Could this be real, was I actually being part of some kind of out of body experience? For the next five to ten minutes I kept gently opening my eyes over and over again every 30 seconds or so to find myself all over again in the comfort of the rocking recliner with my child sound asleep in my arms in the downstairs family room of our home. Once I would close my eyes again, there I was all over again as if I myself was a beam of light moving through space at an incredible speed. Eventually the sensation started to fade as I kept opening and closing my eyes randomly. At least 15 minutes later, when I could no longer see anything other than darkness when I would close my eyes, my heart still racing with my blood full of the excitement because of the obvious adrenaline rush, I took my child to his crib and eagerly walked into my bedroom to share the experience with my wife, but she was so sound asleep that I had to wait like a child with his knees crossed wanting to go to the bathroom.
That experience was amazing to say the least. It triggered in me an immense desire to try to understand what had happened. I bought several books on the subject matter and read them from cover to cover. For weeks I repeatedly tried to somehow trigger the same event without any luck. I played the same music and tried to relax in the same chair, and time after time I discovered how poor my ability to focus, clear my mind, and relax truly are when I try to force it. After a while I started to doubt myself, wondering if maybe it had all just been a dream. Logical thoughts created an even larger barrier wondering if maybe I had experienced some kind of stroke that had manifested itself in the amazing mental experience. Now at least 14 years later I have come full circle and believe that this was somehow much more than just a dream. The intensity of the experience and the flow of the events seem way too easy to remember for them to just have been a dream. In fact, as I think back, the only part of the experiment that I never included into my other failed trials was to have my baby son in my arms as I tried to re-experience the moment. As a scientist I believe that what was missing from my subsequent efforts was probably the most important part of the equation, my young innocent son. I truly believe that in reality I was not as much the creator of the experience, and much more as the unwilling passenger. Without any barriers in his beautiful mind, who is to tell if this is what many babies experience at that age, and I was just lucky enough to have been close enough to him to go for the ride too.
Dad
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
A hug...
What are the memories that you hold precious in your life? Which moments of your past seem to feed the emotional needs that are constantly begging to be nourished? We all have special moments that we like to remember in order to get that sweet emotional fix that makes us smile all over inside and out. Finding someone in your life that is able to constantly fulfill all of your emotional hunger is most likely an unrealistic quest. In life, we are fortunate when the sum of those that are close to us are able to somehow satisfy what our hearts desire. Most of the time instead, we all live in a continuous search for a level of emotional satisfaction that is hardly achievable. At some point though, I have already seen it in many of my elders, a new kind of satisfaction arises to quench our otherwise greedy and never satisfied emotional self. Is it that we eventually come to realize that maybe everything that we need to be happy is truly contained within us? Or could it be that at some point in our lives the moments that we have lived are in all more powerful in our minds than they actually were during their physical manifestation in the past? I truly believe that at some moment in our lives, in order to find true happiness, we are forced mentally relive the good part of every single moment experienced while neglecting the not so good part of them in the process. For example, I am bias towards memories of when my kids where very young and full of innocence. The way they would wrap their arms around my neck when I held them in my arms invoke such powerful emotional connections that they carry me through very difficult times regardless of the reality of which I can also remember how painful it was to do so for long periods of time. It hurt almost every part of my then younger body to have to hold my kids in my arms for extensive periods of time, yet there was very little choice in the matter when they were crying or tired of walking. However, now the memory of those moments has nothing to do with any pain, instead they are all about the good feel of tiny little hands, cheeks, and bodies snuggled up against me.
I have come full circle with the little things in my life. I have chosen to ignore the parts that annoyed or bothered me, and enjoy the simpler memories and emotions involved with my daily interaction with my kids. It is not as if I have a never ending source of feel good moments on a daily basis, so why should I focus on the ones that are not so great instead of the few that are truly amazing? Read along the next few paragraphs and see if you are able to find where it is that I am nourished emotionally on just a few hours of interaction with my now teenage sons. I bet if you pay attention to the words you too will be able to appreciate the little things in my own life too...
I am still trying to figure out what motivated my oldest teenage son to take the time to clean out the chaotic conditions in his bedroom. I have previously shared with you how on occasions I've gone on a mission of trying to clear out some of the catastrophic fallout that occurs when my oldest son decides to let it all go completely out of control and ignore the simple laws of order leaving anything and everything that is inside of his room just pile up in what ultimately seems as layers of the remains left by a devastating tornado. It can actually take hours to make any sense of what is to stay and what needs to be thrown out in order to bring the room back into a livable habitat. Interestingly, in the past he has had these moments of lucidity that turn him into a lean, mean, cleaning machine, but typically the effort is short lived and even though the affected perimeter of his impulse to be organized includes his crash pad, seldom does it ever extend anywhere past his bedroom door. This time however, he included in his amazing moment of order the contents of the family room, which until recently had doubled also as his secondary living space. The fact that he actually has done all of this cleaning is not what surprises me the most. What has me dumbfounded is that I cannot for the life of me figure out the trigger. Please, do not get me wrong, I am pleased and tickled pink that such a dramatic moment has occurred during the weekend. I intend to praise this effort and utilize this opportunity as a springboard to motivate him in other ways too, so no good deed will go unrewarded, for sure!
In fact, one of the gadgets that surfaced from this event was a small digital camera that I had given him for Christmas which had been taken out of the box but never used afterwards. I thought that since he likes photography so much, getting him his own camera would be a way of encouraging him to go back to do something safe and fun. The camera survived, however the charger never made the count out of the lost and found box of goodies rediscovered in his room. Fortunately for all of us I had made the same gift to his younger brother who was accommodating enough to share his camera battery charger with his older brother for a bit. This sharing is a dangerous door to walk through since if and when conditions return back to a state of chaotic disorder in the older brother's room, the chances of being able to recover to loaned article are probably as good as winning the California Lottery.
I have learned that very few things in life happen as planned. As my son got ready to head out the door to do a bit of Ansel Adam'ing, somehow the never used camera fell out of his hands and hit the floor with enough force to dislodge and damage the opening and closing mechanism for the lens. In frustration he cam to his geeky dad hoping that I could pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat routine and fix it for him, but instead, after fiddling with the thing for a while I just made it worse instead. We both tried to salvage the cool grown up toy but even though the carcass still seemed beautiful from afar, its true soul and life had long since decided to go to wherever it is that broken camera souls go to when they hit the deck hard enough. Amazingly, my son did not make any big deal out of it. I suggested that if he had any money to contribute I would pay for the other half and I would buy a new camera for him, but apparently this was not a wise way to spend any loot he might of accumulated in the last few weeks from allowances and what not, and the subject was dropped.
"Dad, would you mind washing some of these dirty clothes?," the foreign request came out of the lips of the suddenly clean conscious child. "Sure, just drop them in front of my door and I'll take care of it..." I replied with a sense of wonder. Until now, even though he had made this request a few times before, it was always limited to one or two items of clothing that he intended to use in the next hour or so. This time instead, a pile to fill at least one whole load in the washing machine was instantly delivered to my room. A few hours later as I was about to walk out the door with my youngest son to take him to check out some prices on a gaming system for which he had been saving his pennies to buy on his own, I let my oldest son know that his clothes would be dry in less than 15 minutes in case he wanted to take them back to his room from the dryer. Amazingly, not only did I discover that he had taken his clothes back to his room, but he also separated a few other shirts and some pants that I had included in the load that belonged to his brother instead. There they were, in the same place we had agreed to make the original exchange of dirty items to wash, not neatly folded, but at least stretched out.
As I went about fulfilling the promise to my younger son of helping him get his video game system I was rewarded with a surprise $50 gift certificate from the electronics’ store which I happily applied towards the purchase of another digital camera for my oldest son. It was almost as if the money flew out of the sky and into my hands. Of course the camera cost more than $50 dollars, but this was probably as much as I would of been able to convince the teenager to give up on his own anyways. A few hours later and the younger lad and I were on our way home we got a call from the older one asking if I would mind picking him up a few blocks away from our home so that he did not have to walk all the way. As we arrived we found him sitting in a bench playing and singing songs to the hollow halls of his previous middle school alma mater. On our final mile and almost home I passed over the plastic bag that contained the new camera I had just bought for him and he simply said "Oh cool!" To which I instinctively replied, "please take care of it." We got home and exited the car from inside the garage. A promised smoothie was on my list of things still to do for the younger guy, and the older one requested if I would not mind warming up a deli sandwich I had bought him earlier during the day before he was really hungry. I was walking out of the kitchen after cleaning my own mess and completing all the previous short order requests when my oldest son walked over to me, stretched out his arms wide open, and in a totally unexpected gesture gave me a very nice hug! Wow, what an amazing feeling it is to get something so beautiful in return without having to request it! Mind you, it was not the biggest hug I have gotten, it was not even the warmest hug I have received this week, but all and all it was a very nice hug indeed.
Dad
I have come full circle with the little things in my life. I have chosen to ignore the parts that annoyed or bothered me, and enjoy the simpler memories and emotions involved with my daily interaction with my kids. It is not as if I have a never ending source of feel good moments on a daily basis, so why should I focus on the ones that are not so great instead of the few that are truly amazing? Read along the next few paragraphs and see if you are able to find where it is that I am nourished emotionally on just a few hours of interaction with my now teenage sons. I bet if you pay attention to the words you too will be able to appreciate the little things in my own life too...
I am still trying to figure out what motivated my oldest teenage son to take the time to clean out the chaotic conditions in his bedroom. I have previously shared with you how on occasions I've gone on a mission of trying to clear out some of the catastrophic fallout that occurs when my oldest son decides to let it all go completely out of control and ignore the simple laws of order leaving anything and everything that is inside of his room just pile up in what ultimately seems as layers of the remains left by a devastating tornado. It can actually take hours to make any sense of what is to stay and what needs to be thrown out in order to bring the room back into a livable habitat. Interestingly, in the past he has had these moments of lucidity that turn him into a lean, mean, cleaning machine, but typically the effort is short lived and even though the affected perimeter of his impulse to be organized includes his crash pad, seldom does it ever extend anywhere past his bedroom door. This time however, he included in his amazing moment of order the contents of the family room, which until recently had doubled also as his secondary living space. The fact that he actually has done all of this cleaning is not what surprises me the most. What has me dumbfounded is that I cannot for the life of me figure out the trigger. Please, do not get me wrong, I am pleased and tickled pink that such a dramatic moment has occurred during the weekend. I intend to praise this effort and utilize this opportunity as a springboard to motivate him in other ways too, so no good deed will go unrewarded, for sure!
In fact, one of the gadgets that surfaced from this event was a small digital camera that I had given him for Christmas which had been taken out of the box but never used afterwards. I thought that since he likes photography so much, getting him his own camera would be a way of encouraging him to go back to do something safe and fun. The camera survived, however the charger never made the count out of the lost and found box of goodies rediscovered in his room. Fortunately for all of us I had made the same gift to his younger brother who was accommodating enough to share his camera battery charger with his older brother for a bit. This sharing is a dangerous door to walk through since if and when conditions return back to a state of chaotic disorder in the older brother's room, the chances of being able to recover to loaned article are probably as good as winning the California Lottery.
I have learned that very few things in life happen as planned. As my son got ready to head out the door to do a bit of Ansel Adam'ing, somehow the never used camera fell out of his hands and hit the floor with enough force to dislodge and damage the opening and closing mechanism for the lens. In frustration he cam to his geeky dad hoping that I could pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat routine and fix it for him, but instead, after fiddling with the thing for a while I just made it worse instead. We both tried to salvage the cool grown up toy but even though the carcass still seemed beautiful from afar, its true soul and life had long since decided to go to wherever it is that broken camera souls go to when they hit the deck hard enough. Amazingly, my son did not make any big deal out of it. I suggested that if he had any money to contribute I would pay for the other half and I would buy a new camera for him, but apparently this was not a wise way to spend any loot he might of accumulated in the last few weeks from allowances and what not, and the subject was dropped.
"Dad, would you mind washing some of these dirty clothes?," the foreign request came out of the lips of the suddenly clean conscious child. "Sure, just drop them in front of my door and I'll take care of it..." I replied with a sense of wonder. Until now, even though he had made this request a few times before, it was always limited to one or two items of clothing that he intended to use in the next hour or so. This time instead, a pile to fill at least one whole load in the washing machine was instantly delivered to my room. A few hours later as I was about to walk out the door with my youngest son to take him to check out some prices on a gaming system for which he had been saving his pennies to buy on his own, I let my oldest son know that his clothes would be dry in less than 15 minutes in case he wanted to take them back to his room from the dryer. Amazingly, not only did I discover that he had taken his clothes back to his room, but he also separated a few other shirts and some pants that I had included in the load that belonged to his brother instead. There they were, in the same place we had agreed to make the original exchange of dirty items to wash, not neatly folded, but at least stretched out.
As I went about fulfilling the promise to my younger son of helping him get his video game system I was rewarded with a surprise $50 gift certificate from the electronics’ store which I happily applied towards the purchase of another digital camera for my oldest son. It was almost as if the money flew out of the sky and into my hands. Of course the camera cost more than $50 dollars, but this was probably as much as I would of been able to convince the teenager to give up on his own anyways. A few hours later and the younger lad and I were on our way home we got a call from the older one asking if I would mind picking him up a few blocks away from our home so that he did not have to walk all the way. As we arrived we found him sitting in a bench playing and singing songs to the hollow halls of his previous middle school alma mater. On our final mile and almost home I passed over the plastic bag that contained the new camera I had just bought for him and he simply said "Oh cool!" To which I instinctively replied, "please take care of it." We got home and exited the car from inside the garage. A promised smoothie was on my list of things still to do for the younger guy, and the older one requested if I would not mind warming up a deli sandwich I had bought him earlier during the day before he was really hungry. I was walking out of the kitchen after cleaning my own mess and completing all the previous short order requests when my oldest son walked over to me, stretched out his arms wide open, and in a totally unexpected gesture gave me a very nice hug! Wow, what an amazing feeling it is to get something so beautiful in return without having to request it! Mind you, it was not the biggest hug I have gotten, it was not even the warmest hug I have received this week, but all and all it was a very nice hug indeed.
Dad
Monday, March 22, 2010
I love you just the way you are...now change!
The beauty in the landscape is in its full content, and not just part of it. If you take a beautiful picture of a waterfall, it will somehow contain part of its surroundings. To the naked eye and from a distance, the image will probably take your breath away, yet if you took the time to look closely you would definitely find imperfections, flaws, and many things that you would not consider beautiful at all. As the water makes its way towards that waterfall, dead leaves, branches, roots, dirt and rock, all combine themselves to create the last point of horizontal travel before the water makes its splendid drop to far below. Close inspection of the branches would reveal all kinds of insects eating away the rotting bark and wood. The leaves would be covered in slime because of the length of time they have been prisoners of the surrounding beauty. However, from a distance it all provides a scenery that would make just about anyone be in awe. This is exactly what happens when we take a closer look at anyone that at some point in time we thought to be the most beautiful person we had ever met. The longer we spend with an individual, the closer attention we pay to their individuality, and the more obvious it becomes that behind the marvelous beauty that we once held to such high standards, there are dozens, if not hundreds, and even thousands of little things that make them lose their splendor.
Why is it that we are always so eager and ready to change others to fit our needs, yet we ourselves have such a hard time making any changes to our own individuality? I've spent a very long time becoming the person that I am today. For good or for bad, most of my way of being is by now permanent and fixed into my personality. I may be able to control some of my behavior in order to please others that surround me, but limiting or enhancing is in fact a much different thing than changing or modifying. In other words, ask me to tone it down because my outspoken Latin personality can easily make me sound like I am angry when I am trying to make a point and I am sure if I try hard I am able to bring it down a notch, sort to speak. However, this is who I am, and after almost 48 years of learning to be an outspoken Latin dominant male, I hardly believe that I am truly capable of turning on any internal switch and permanently becoming a quiet Latin submissive male. I give this as an example because many times in my life I have been told that when I am passionate about a subject, I pretty much sound as if I am angry. However, unless this means that I am always angry, I somehow doubt that it is an accurate assessment of how I am feeling while presenting my point of view, since at that moment other than passionate, I feel no other emotion intermixed with the delivery of my thoughts. Inter-culturally speaking I can understand how this can happen, so I make an effort of toning my passion down a bit in order not to sound upset. Notice that I said "toning down" and not "changing," since in essence I and stuck with who I am and trying to change is hardly an option.
I have discovered that in relationships, the same things that I seek in others when looking for friendship, companionship, or more, somehow later on find themselves as being the things that bother me the most about them. For example, I am very much a neat freak liking order and cleanliness in my surrounding world. Yet even though I have already learned not to seek out the total opposite in a partner, I do tend to gravitate towards people that are less compulsive than I am about this subject. I probably do this in hopes that they will teach me to be less compulsive and easier going in this regards, since I am aware that this part of my personality is not such a great feature. However, if down the road I find myself living a life too far off my personal liking towards cleanliness, it typically becomes a problem. I recognize that this is just a basic example, but I bet you can relate somehow because I believe that we all do this "opposites attract" to a certain extent which later on in life kind of bites us in the proverbial toosh. Interestingly though, we don't seem to have much of a choice when the individuals with the not so great personality or behavioral traits are our family members. Like they say, you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family. Fortunately for me, I truly like my family, so I guess I am blessed in that way. However, teenage children are more like aliens living in your home, so I don't think that they count until they finally have children of their own!
I have discovered that the quicker I learn to accept those around me for who they are, the easier it is for me to feel comfortable when I am in their presence. This holds true for everyone, including the outer galaxy 17 year old, the in my solar system 14 year old, and everyone else in my life. Accepting is not necessarily the same as understanding, which brings me to the next point I would like to share. Just because I am able to accept someone for who they are, does not necessarily mean that I truly understand them. However, I have learned that if I first accept someone for who they are, I then find it much easier to try and put myself in their shoes and maybe later I am able to understand them better. In contrast, if I am set in my mind that I am not going to accept an individual because of some particular quality in their personality or behavior, rarely am I able to understand their point of view or reasons for being they way they are in the first place. Something else that I have learned is that I do not have to like that part of an individual that might make me cringe in order to accept them, and hopefully understand them to a certain extent.
The point is that I have learned not to waste my time trying to change people, since from my own personal experience change only comes from within, and not from anyone trying to enforce it on you. In all honesty, one of the few things that I find truly disappointing in some people's behavior is how eager they are to want others to change, yet how impossibly stubborn they are in their own habits and personalities. We are in essence, the sum of all of our parts. Meaning that we cannot be dissected into what pleases and does not please a single individual, that would be ludicrous. Have you ever noticed how some of the same qualities that you dislike in a certain person is exactly what attracts some of their other friends to them? So if they would change just to please you, that would mean displeasing the other folks that are attracted to the opposite of your request. I can easily see that in some of the personality traits of my oldest teenage son. He tends to be impulsive and very spontaneous in his reactions making me wish that he would be more thoughtful and careful. Yet, to his friends, this is a quality that they cherish and have come to bond with in his personality. Changing for me would mean losing the same thing that attracts many of his current social group.
I joke about this "I love you just the way you are...now change!" comment with those closest to me because it is a common theme that we have come to recognize and try to avoid. However, it is our nature to be attracted to so much in others that is completely different than us for many reasons. In my family, we are all outspoken and very assertive. It does not take much to get us all excited during family gatherings which I just love because of the level of energy and fun that we have during the moment. It is this same outspoken and assertive personality that many times comes into conflict with other people in my life. I seriously believe that instead of them expecting me to change what is already such a strong part of my person, that they learn to accept me "As-Is" for the sake of our friendships and relationships. In many other parts of my life I am extremely quiet, conservative, and downright serious. Just like all of you, I too am the sum of all my parts. If it makes you happy, and you matter enough to me, I will always make an effort to be a little more like this or a little less like that, but take notice that you are not changing me and sooner or later in order for us to get along, you must do as I do with you and accept me just the way I am.
Dad
Why is it that we are always so eager and ready to change others to fit our needs, yet we ourselves have such a hard time making any changes to our own individuality? I've spent a very long time becoming the person that I am today. For good or for bad, most of my way of being is by now permanent and fixed into my personality. I may be able to control some of my behavior in order to please others that surround me, but limiting or enhancing is in fact a much different thing than changing or modifying. In other words, ask me to tone it down because my outspoken Latin personality can easily make me sound like I am angry when I am trying to make a point and I am sure if I try hard I am able to bring it down a notch, sort to speak. However, this is who I am, and after almost 48 years of learning to be an outspoken Latin dominant male, I hardly believe that I am truly capable of turning on any internal switch and permanently becoming a quiet Latin submissive male. I give this as an example because many times in my life I have been told that when I am passionate about a subject, I pretty much sound as if I am angry. However, unless this means that I am always angry, I somehow doubt that it is an accurate assessment of how I am feeling while presenting my point of view, since at that moment other than passionate, I feel no other emotion intermixed with the delivery of my thoughts. Inter-culturally speaking I can understand how this can happen, so I make an effort of toning my passion down a bit in order not to sound upset. Notice that I said "toning down" and not "changing," since in essence I and stuck with who I am and trying to change is hardly an option.
I have discovered that in relationships, the same things that I seek in others when looking for friendship, companionship, or more, somehow later on find themselves as being the things that bother me the most about them. For example, I am very much a neat freak liking order and cleanliness in my surrounding world. Yet even though I have already learned not to seek out the total opposite in a partner, I do tend to gravitate towards people that are less compulsive than I am about this subject. I probably do this in hopes that they will teach me to be less compulsive and easier going in this regards, since I am aware that this part of my personality is not such a great feature. However, if down the road I find myself living a life too far off my personal liking towards cleanliness, it typically becomes a problem. I recognize that this is just a basic example, but I bet you can relate somehow because I believe that we all do this "opposites attract" to a certain extent which later on in life kind of bites us in the proverbial toosh. Interestingly though, we don't seem to have much of a choice when the individuals with the not so great personality or behavioral traits are our family members. Like they say, you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family. Fortunately for me, I truly like my family, so I guess I am blessed in that way. However, teenage children are more like aliens living in your home, so I don't think that they count until they finally have children of their own!
I have discovered that the quicker I learn to accept those around me for who they are, the easier it is for me to feel comfortable when I am in their presence. This holds true for everyone, including the outer galaxy 17 year old, the in my solar system 14 year old, and everyone else in my life. Accepting is not necessarily the same as understanding, which brings me to the next point I would like to share. Just because I am able to accept someone for who they are, does not necessarily mean that I truly understand them. However, I have learned that if I first accept someone for who they are, I then find it much easier to try and put myself in their shoes and maybe later I am able to understand them better. In contrast, if I am set in my mind that I am not going to accept an individual because of some particular quality in their personality or behavior, rarely am I able to understand their point of view or reasons for being they way they are in the first place. Something else that I have learned is that I do not have to like that part of an individual that might make me cringe in order to accept them, and hopefully understand them to a certain extent.
The point is that I have learned not to waste my time trying to change people, since from my own personal experience change only comes from within, and not from anyone trying to enforce it on you. In all honesty, one of the few things that I find truly disappointing in some people's behavior is how eager they are to want others to change, yet how impossibly stubborn they are in their own habits and personalities. We are in essence, the sum of all of our parts. Meaning that we cannot be dissected into what pleases and does not please a single individual, that would be ludicrous. Have you ever noticed how some of the same qualities that you dislike in a certain person is exactly what attracts some of their other friends to them? So if they would change just to please you, that would mean displeasing the other folks that are attracted to the opposite of your request. I can easily see that in some of the personality traits of my oldest teenage son. He tends to be impulsive and very spontaneous in his reactions making me wish that he would be more thoughtful and careful. Yet, to his friends, this is a quality that they cherish and have come to bond with in his personality. Changing for me would mean losing the same thing that attracts many of his current social group.
I joke about this "I love you just the way you are...now change!" comment with those closest to me because it is a common theme that we have come to recognize and try to avoid. However, it is our nature to be attracted to so much in others that is completely different than us for many reasons. In my family, we are all outspoken and very assertive. It does not take much to get us all excited during family gatherings which I just love because of the level of energy and fun that we have during the moment. It is this same outspoken and assertive personality that many times comes into conflict with other people in my life. I seriously believe that instead of them expecting me to change what is already such a strong part of my person, that they learn to accept me "As-Is" for the sake of our friendships and relationships. In many other parts of my life I am extremely quiet, conservative, and downright serious. Just like all of you, I too am the sum of all my parts. If it makes you happy, and you matter enough to me, I will always make an effort to be a little more like this or a little less like that, but take notice that you are not changing me and sooner or later in order for us to get along, you must do as I do with you and accept me just the way I am.
Dad
Thursday, March 18, 2010
"Could you buy me The Book of Death?"
His eagerness to learn how to read began at the young age of three. By the time his brother was born he had already discovered computer and video games, many of which had screen messages that needed to be read in order to know how to proceed in the game. The thirst for reading did not originate with the intent of acquiring literal enlightenment, instead it was as for any other typical child just to have fun. As I mentioned a while back, already knowing how smart the child was because of all the little clues that he had placed in our parenting path, I was not at all excited about teaching him how to read any time sooner than it was necessary. All the parenting books I had acquired and read to help improve my inexperienced parenting skills made reference to how smarter than average children typically got bored in school and eventually had behavioral problems in the classroom environment. I figured that if in fact he did have above average intelligence, not learning how to read before he got to grade school would not hurt him in any way. Also, even if he did not have any kind of mental advantage, when the time would come to learn how to read I would simply pour myself into the effort equation and help out on my end too. The eventual result was that on his first chance to learn how to read, he did so quickly enough that by the time he was in first grade he had already read the first two Harry Potter books and was well on his way to reading everything that he was interested in without delay. My son devoured book after book with a passion that can best be compared to an addict quenching his thirst for his favorite drug. His addiction or compulsion to reading has served him well throughout the years, filling in many of his time that would otherwise probably be consumed with other vices. Needless to say, now at almost the age of 18 he has taken in so much information from this wonderful habit that it is extremely delightful to compare notes with him on a great variety of subjects.
I wonder if my son realizes how much he has really learned from this obsession to satisfy curiosity via the written word? Has all of this knowledge opened his mind beyond the vulnerable influence of subjects that could actually harm him? I for one have been concerned many times because of his request to buy books that in my ignorant opinion seem to contain dark subject matter on their titles. Like any reasonable parent I find it hard to endorse reading material that might plant harmful seeds in his mind. On the other hand, is he mature enough to know the difference because of his advanced mental process of what is good information and what you must learn to discard in order to stay centered in life? A while back I remember my ex-wife being extremely concerned with my son's choice of reading material when he requested to purchase "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying" by Sogyal Rinpoche. To be fair, his original request was for us to purchase for him "The Book of Death" which truly sounded a lot worse than its real title. Because of his persistent and relentless personality she eventually purchased the book for him with a few others. Just like any of the other material that he finds interesting, he consumed the ink on paper in just hours after he had them in his possession.
Many years back when I was in high school I remember discovering that my maternal grandfather also loved reading to an almost compulsive extent. As I had been assigned to read "Uncle Tom's Cabin" by Harriet Beecher Stowe, for my U.S. History class, I remember being totally fascinated with my grandfather's insight to the novel when I casually mentioned that I had read it. Even though he had read the book years back, he still remembered in amazing details most of its content. As we shared passages of the story a brilliant mind was revealed to me from someone that until then I had just assumed spent his time farming. Afterwards, my mother then told me that he loved to read so much that her father actually read anything that crossed his path in the form of a book. I never saw my grandfather again with the same eyes that I had done so for so many years. In fact, from then on, every time I read any of the classic novels I always made a point of having a conversation with my grandfather on the subject to learn much more than what I could from simply reading the book. He was full of insight and stories that went way back in time from his own personal life experiences and many other books he had read.
My mom was a teacher for over 45 years. She too has always had a strong drive in the reading department of her life. For years we have shared our opinions and learned from each other every time we discover that we have read the same book. This morning as I was driving to work and talking to her she happened to mention that she had picked up a book that my oldest sister had been reading and left on the nightstand. When I asked her the title of the book, she quickly revealed that she was currently reading "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying." The title immediately rang familiar in my head because of having seen it sitting on the corner table in my living room where my oldest son has left at least ten other books that he's read in the past month or so. One of the best parts about asking my mom details about anything she has read, is the level of detail that she brings to the table during the conversation. I always learn something incredibly insightful about the author and also the purpose of the book in itself. This morning was no different. When I told her that my son had also read it, we both spent some time speculating what he might of learned in doing so. Personally, me knowing so many of the titles of the books that he has read, I can safely say that he probably got much more enlightenment out of this book than I ever would of myself.
I wish there was some kind of meter I could use to plug into my children and be able to asses their level of maturity. It would be extremely useful to know this information in order to filter my expectations. Using my own experiences and looking back in time to when I was their age can only get me so far since things have changed so much between our generations. Some things seem pretty much the same, like hormones and some of their social interactions. On the other hand, interests have grown with so many new options that were not available when I was a younger individual. The choices of what to do with your free time as a now days teenager are much more extensive than they used to be in the past. Amazingly though, it always blows my mind when I hear them utter out the words "I'm bored." Hundreds of TV channels, the availability of so many choices of music, games, and social networks on the Internet, too many radio stations to pick from, DVDs, and so much more are just mind boggling! The simple consensus in my mind is that as a parent I will probably never be able to accurately measure where they are at in maturity without them somehow giving me more clues. So my job as a father becomes much more of a monitor than a meter, finding different ways to interact with my kids in order to try to be a good parent.
In my search for information with respect to clues on how to detect my children's maturity level, I have found very little help. Article after article are being published on how to detect and recognize the clues of your child heading on an erroneous path. Clues about discovering if they are being bullied, whether their friends are good or bad influences, on if they are on their way to experiment with smoking, drinking, and drugs. I am not declaring these to be bad articles, but to me they are simply useless since I never had a problem recognizing the clues that these things were coming my way. What I need as a parent of a pretty typical teenager is advice on how to interact with him in order to make a significant impact and guide him out of trouble when he inevitably decides to walk right into it regardless of what I think, know, or wish he would do instead. In other words, don't tell me what is wrong, please tell me how to fix it or at a minimum how to be a positive influence to help him fix it himself! I could easily spend hours on end describing to you all of the signs of a brilliant child that is headed for trouble, but to what purpose would the revelation of these signs serve? Instead, I hope you realize that I have always tried to give you examples and answers that have worked for me. Today, even though subtle, the lesson was about not prejudging a child's request to read subject matter of which you know absolutely nothing about. Also, if you take a bit of time to delve in their own interests, you might discover that they find it much easier to share with you their interests once they realize that you too are akin to it as my grandfather was and my mother is to reading.
Find the strength of your child and take the time to understand it. Read some of what they read, listen to some of what they listen, and watch some of what they watch regardless of your own taste and personal choices. If I could give you an advice that I think has truly worked for me and seems to be the most crucial quality that constantly improves my relationship with my two sons, it would be for you to take the time to listen. Not just listen to their words, also listen to their actions. Their words could be telling you "get out of my room", yet their actions could be saying "please help me!" Taking care of your kids might seem like it is mostly about feeding and clothing them, yet the truth is that more importantly taking care of them is truly about keeping them healthy physically, mentally, and emotionally. If you find yourself neglecting any of these jobs, sooner or later you will end regretting not having done so right in the first place. Something very important to remember is that nobody expects you to be perfect and not make mistakes, but as a parent, learning from your mistakes is critical. However, the most important thing to realize is that no matter what anyone ever tells you, it is NEVER too late to start being a better parent. No matter how seriously in trouble you might think that your child has gotten himself or herself into, there is always time to mend, fix, and mostly heal. Just look at yourself in the mirror and I bet you can easily see how much you have grown even as an adult, so how could anyone in their teenage years be beyond repair? If your situation seems desperate, in fact that is probably a very good sign that you are already a good parent. It takes a good parent to realize that things are getting rough. Just don't give up, better times are just around the corner!
Dad
I wonder if my son realizes how much he has really learned from this obsession to satisfy curiosity via the written word? Has all of this knowledge opened his mind beyond the vulnerable influence of subjects that could actually harm him? I for one have been concerned many times because of his request to buy books that in my ignorant opinion seem to contain dark subject matter on their titles. Like any reasonable parent I find it hard to endorse reading material that might plant harmful seeds in his mind. On the other hand, is he mature enough to know the difference because of his advanced mental process of what is good information and what you must learn to discard in order to stay centered in life? A while back I remember my ex-wife being extremely concerned with my son's choice of reading material when he requested to purchase "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying" by Sogyal Rinpoche. To be fair, his original request was for us to purchase for him "The Book of Death" which truly sounded a lot worse than its real title. Because of his persistent and relentless personality she eventually purchased the book for him with a few others. Just like any of the other material that he finds interesting, he consumed the ink on paper in just hours after he had them in his possession.
Many years back when I was in high school I remember discovering that my maternal grandfather also loved reading to an almost compulsive extent. As I had been assigned to read "Uncle Tom's Cabin" by Harriet Beecher Stowe, for my U.S. History class, I remember being totally fascinated with my grandfather's insight to the novel when I casually mentioned that I had read it. Even though he had read the book years back, he still remembered in amazing details most of its content. As we shared passages of the story a brilliant mind was revealed to me from someone that until then I had just assumed spent his time farming. Afterwards, my mother then told me that he loved to read so much that her father actually read anything that crossed his path in the form of a book. I never saw my grandfather again with the same eyes that I had done so for so many years. In fact, from then on, every time I read any of the classic novels I always made a point of having a conversation with my grandfather on the subject to learn much more than what I could from simply reading the book. He was full of insight and stories that went way back in time from his own personal life experiences and many other books he had read.
My mom was a teacher for over 45 years. She too has always had a strong drive in the reading department of her life. For years we have shared our opinions and learned from each other every time we discover that we have read the same book. This morning as I was driving to work and talking to her she happened to mention that she had picked up a book that my oldest sister had been reading and left on the nightstand. When I asked her the title of the book, she quickly revealed that she was currently reading "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying." The title immediately rang familiar in my head because of having seen it sitting on the corner table in my living room where my oldest son has left at least ten other books that he's read in the past month or so. One of the best parts about asking my mom details about anything she has read, is the level of detail that she brings to the table during the conversation. I always learn something incredibly insightful about the author and also the purpose of the book in itself. This morning was no different. When I told her that my son had also read it, we both spent some time speculating what he might of learned in doing so. Personally, me knowing so many of the titles of the books that he has read, I can safely say that he probably got much more enlightenment out of this book than I ever would of myself.
I wish there was some kind of meter I could use to plug into my children and be able to asses their level of maturity. It would be extremely useful to know this information in order to filter my expectations. Using my own experiences and looking back in time to when I was their age can only get me so far since things have changed so much between our generations. Some things seem pretty much the same, like hormones and some of their social interactions. On the other hand, interests have grown with so many new options that were not available when I was a younger individual. The choices of what to do with your free time as a now days teenager are much more extensive than they used to be in the past. Amazingly though, it always blows my mind when I hear them utter out the words "I'm bored." Hundreds of TV channels, the availability of so many choices of music, games, and social networks on the Internet, too many radio stations to pick from, DVDs, and so much more are just mind boggling! The simple consensus in my mind is that as a parent I will probably never be able to accurately measure where they are at in maturity without them somehow giving me more clues. So my job as a father becomes much more of a monitor than a meter, finding different ways to interact with my kids in order to try to be a good parent.
In my search for information with respect to clues on how to detect my children's maturity level, I have found very little help. Article after article are being published on how to detect and recognize the clues of your child heading on an erroneous path. Clues about discovering if they are being bullied, whether their friends are good or bad influences, on if they are on their way to experiment with smoking, drinking, and drugs. I am not declaring these to be bad articles, but to me they are simply useless since I never had a problem recognizing the clues that these things were coming my way. What I need as a parent of a pretty typical teenager is advice on how to interact with him in order to make a significant impact and guide him out of trouble when he inevitably decides to walk right into it regardless of what I think, know, or wish he would do instead. In other words, don't tell me what is wrong, please tell me how to fix it or at a minimum how to be a positive influence to help him fix it himself! I could easily spend hours on end describing to you all of the signs of a brilliant child that is headed for trouble, but to what purpose would the revelation of these signs serve? Instead, I hope you realize that I have always tried to give you examples and answers that have worked for me. Today, even though subtle, the lesson was about not prejudging a child's request to read subject matter of which you know absolutely nothing about. Also, if you take a bit of time to delve in their own interests, you might discover that they find it much easier to share with you their interests once they realize that you too are akin to it as my grandfather was and my mother is to reading.
Find the strength of your child and take the time to understand it. Read some of what they read, listen to some of what they listen, and watch some of what they watch regardless of your own taste and personal choices. If I could give you an advice that I think has truly worked for me and seems to be the most crucial quality that constantly improves my relationship with my two sons, it would be for you to take the time to listen. Not just listen to their words, also listen to their actions. Their words could be telling you "get out of my room", yet their actions could be saying "please help me!" Taking care of your kids might seem like it is mostly about feeding and clothing them, yet the truth is that more importantly taking care of them is truly about keeping them healthy physically, mentally, and emotionally. If you find yourself neglecting any of these jobs, sooner or later you will end regretting not having done so right in the first place. Something very important to remember is that nobody expects you to be perfect and not make mistakes, but as a parent, learning from your mistakes is critical. However, the most important thing to realize is that no matter what anyone ever tells you, it is NEVER too late to start being a better parent. No matter how seriously in trouble you might think that your child has gotten himself or herself into, there is always time to mend, fix, and mostly heal. Just look at yourself in the mirror and I bet you can easily see how much you have grown even as an adult, so how could anyone in their teenage years be beyond repair? If your situation seems desperate, in fact that is probably a very good sign that you are already a good parent. It takes a good parent to realize that things are getting rough. Just don't give up, better times are just around the corner!
Dad
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
An amazing time machine...
In the world of physics, scientists have spent years trying to figure out how it is that we've come to be in our present state of existence. No other true science is able to delve as far back in time with some of the most astonishing discoveries, predictions, and revelations. In fact, all other fields of science, when looked at in their most elemental form are fundamentally rooted in physics too. So in essence, it could be said that everything we know about our physical existence can eventually be traced and correlated to the science of physics. All of the forces in the Universe interact with everything that is, in order for everything to be.
The moment in which everything started, what could be considered in the scientific world as the moment of creation, has been given the name as "The Big Bang." Scientists, in their hunger to understand how the Universe has come to exist as it is today, developed what is called The Big Bang Theory. In this theory, some of the greatest minds of all time have slowly contributed discoveries which have revealed what the original conditions, or state of things, must of been in order for our Universe to be what it is now. A great deal of debate has always been present in these discoveries and somewhat amazing conclusions, since in order to mathematically prove them to be right, scientists must first be able to accurately estimate the age or our Universe and then figure out all of the things that needed to happen from that moment on in order for it to look and behave as it does today. Currently, the most scientifically based research has estimated the Universe to be 13.75 billion years old, give or take 0.17 billion years. Every time new research makes a discovery in which any of the parameters used to calculate the age of the Universe changes, the estimate of how long ago The Big Bang occurred also changes.
When astronauts had the first peak at our planet from their perspective of being out in space, the description was given that Earth seemed as a big blue marble floating in space. Our planet is estimated to be 4.54 billion years of age, which means it has only existed for the last one third of the existence of the Universe in itself. What impresses me the most about all of these age calculations and discoveries is their state of flux. Depending on the research you will find estimates for the existence of humans on Earth, anywhere from 2.5 millions years ago, to a mere 12 thousand years only. What this probably tell us is that as smart as we think that we are, we still have plenty to learn. Just less than 15 years ago, even though scientist were pretty sure that our solar system could not be the only star containing planets they did not have any means of proving it. From zero extrasolar planets, as of March 2010 the count is at 431 planets proven to exist outside of our solar system. Originally, scientist believed that our Milky Way galaxy was the only one in the Universe. Today, it is known that in the observable universe there are probably more than 170 billion galaxies. These galaxies come in many sizes and shapes, which in turn contain as little as 10 million stars, and as much as 1 trillion stars orbiting their center. Our own Milky Way galaxy is believed to contain something like 100 billion stars.
Because our Universe is believed to be expanding since its first moment of existence, The Big Bang, the probable size of our Universe is is measured in units that reflect the amount of time that it takes light to travel in one year called a light year. What we are able to observe is called the observable cosmos, but the size of the Universe cannot simply be defined by what our limited abilities are able to see. Instead scientist believe that the size of the entire Universe includes much more space and the entire cosmos has a volume of at least 439 quinquatrigintillion cubic light years (this is the number 439 followed by 108 zeros). This my dear friends is a very, very large number.
On a clear and dark night if you are able to get away from all of the light pollution that our cities create, the night sky comes to life full of tiny shinny points of light. Your eyes, once accustomed to darkness, will absorb the fundamental particles of light called photons, which were released by ancient stars mostly from our own Milky Way galaxy. The closest star to us is called Proxima Centauri and its photons took at least 4 years to reach your eyes. If Proxima Centauri would suddenly disappear, you would not be aware of it until 4.2421 years after it happened, since that is how long it would take its last photons to arrive here on Earth. This is why looking into the night sky is considered as looking back in time.
Yesterday, as I drove home after work and was pulling into my driveway I found my son and one of his friends sitting on the ground of the stone paved walkway entrance to my front door, guitars in hand playing and singing songs. The view lifted my heart, my spirits, my emotional well being. To make things better the tune that they were playing and singing at the moment was "Cat's in the Cradle," an old folk rock song originally written by Harry Chapin's wife, Sandy Chapin, as a poem from the album Verities and Balderdash, which topped the Billboard Hot 100 in December of 1974. Most of us have heard this song in which a father is always promising his child that he will spend more time with him, but his hectic life keeps all of the promises unfulfilled. Eventually, the son grows up and when the father finally asks the son for time, the son replies with the same answer he heard so many times coming out of his own father's lips revealing that life father like son he grew up to be just as his dad. Music, just like those tiny spots of shinny light in the sky, is like an amazing time machine. Just hearing my son singing this song took me back in time to when I was a young teenager hearing the melody over the radio and wondering what kind of a father I would grow up to be eventually. My dad was a good man and dedicated father. I have a vast pool of memories to access at will which like stars in the sky travel in time to remind me of what my childhood was like as I grew up. My father was not a perfect man, no father is, but I remember him much more for his loving heart than I do for any of his imperfections. I carry in my mind, as much as in my blood, the good genes of parents that have done everything in their power to make me feel as if I am the most important part of their lives. In fact, my mother still does so in every chance that she has to share with me. Her love is so powerful that I cannot remember a moment in my life in which I actually felt totally alone. Without a doubt in my mind, heart, and soul, I can safely say that my entire family, including my brother and sisters are like stars so bright that contrary to the stars in the sky, I am completely able to see them even during daytime too. Throughout my life they have all shined unconditionally regardless of their own personal circumstances. What a beautiful example I have had to learn from and to emulate.
My life will not be measured in billions of years as those of the planets, stars, galaxies, and the Universe. In fact, I feel blessed every day that I wake up in the morning with air in my lungs, my heart beating, and my mind alert to what surrounds me. As amazing as physics and all of the above discoveries that I mentioned might seem, nothing compares to the knowledge that I hold in my mind and heart of the unwavering love that I feel towards my children. If the Universe on its own is capable of persisting and enduring the passage of time in the scale of billions of years, I have absolutely no excuse as a sentient being, with free will and the ability to make choices, to not put in every effort I am capable of in becoming a good father. I am glad my sons are exactly the way they are, full of wonder, and love, but also many times impulsive and even reckless. Do I wish that they get past this stage? Of course I do, mostly so that I can watch they bloom into great men. However, I have learned that life is full of amazing wonders, and if the Universe is able to create 439 quinquatrigintillion cubic light years of space out of nothing, I think I should be able to create enough space in my life for my kids just the way they are today.
Dad
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Living down to our expectations...
I have always prided myself that contrary to my ex-wife, I do not hide the fact that life with my oldest son is challenging, to say the least. It is not that I am constantly complaining about his personality or behavior, although I know I have gone down that road in moments of frustration, but in order to find help I have had to put the cards on the table when sharing my experiences with others. In my mind it would serve very little purpose to seek counsel without providing a fundamental and realistic summary of what my situation is at the moment. After all, if I go to a steakhouse and pretend I am not hungry when the time comes to order from the menu, I am pretty sure I will find myself with an unfulfilling meal while those around me vast in the glory of their juicy steaks. That is how I have always felt about sharing with those that I believe might be able to help me with their advice and words of wisdom. My ex-wife on the other hand, would never dream of telling anyone about any of the challenges we have encountered throughout the years, and even though I somewhat disagree, I respect her way of thinking. In retrospect and to a certain degree, I have always admired that quality in her person. The ability to carry significant burdens without the need of a helping hand or a kind shoulder to lean on is impressive. This goes to show how different each of us can be on our methods and habits on parenting.
Without prejudice I can safely say that any extreme in parental challenge disclosure is probably not that great. If I always wear my problems on my sleeve and spend all of my time complaining, whining, and pouring my heart out with respect to my parenting challenges, after a while most of my friends will probably stir clear from me because in essence I would be a terrible influence and downer to hang around. On the other hand, if I always paint a rosy picture about my kids and represent them as perfect little angels, sooner or later those around me will get sick of my obvious bragging and seemingly Utopian life. Both extremes are probably counterproductive and of little help in the long run. However, there can and should be a balance to this touchy subject. Maybe not just a balance, but a set of rules or guidelines parents should follow to ensure they are able to get help, but at the same time stir away from negative results.
First, I believe as I do with most situations in life that the audience must be taken into account. Of course if I did not believe in the power of sharing with strangers, I would most definitely not be posting here online. Those of you who know me and are reading, you need to know that you are few and have been selected because of my belief that in some way your contributions via comments, kind words, and prayers mean a great deal to me and have been very helpful. The rest, being anonymous is a powerful way to hear other's opinions without prejudice and in many ways extremely enlightening. I also know that when I have asked for your positive thoughts and prayers, regardless of whether you know me or not, I have been blessed. The few friends and family members with which I share my parenting experiences in person have all learned to listen without prejudice and given me much of the strength needed to continue my quest of being a better father.
Second, and probably more importantly, how we say things matter. It is one thing to describe the situation in which you are involved with hopes of learning better ways to deal with what has proven to be a challenge. It is an entirely different thing to be putting down your children, or being a collector of negativity. I have learned to never tell my child that he is a terrible individual for his actions, much less that he will not amount to anything in life. If I did this, just as Joel Osteen writes in his book titled "It's Your Time," telling a child those words is like inviting them to "live down to your expectations." Nothing could be more accurate than those words of wisdom! In fact, I truly believe that my son is blessed, full of beautiful qualities, and destined to be a great man...he just does not know it yet. Thank you Joel Osteen for that amazingly useful lesson.
To those of you that are not religious, bare with the following advice that I encourage full hearted to all. Today, as you finish reading this post I encourage you to say the same thing about your own children regardless of your situation. Don't just think about it, say it out loud. Hear your lips reveal to your mind and heart the reality that is about to happen in the blink of an eye when God witnesses the secret desires of your soul. Profess that your entire family is blessed with mental, emotional, and physical health so that the angels take this news upstairs and and reveal to God your expectancy of His blessings. Say it like you mean it, like it has already happened regardless of your circumstances. I would not be sharing this with you if I did not believe it all to be true and worth doing.
Here is my family prayer...
Dad
Without prejudice I can safely say that any extreme in parental challenge disclosure is probably not that great. If I always wear my problems on my sleeve and spend all of my time complaining, whining, and pouring my heart out with respect to my parenting challenges, after a while most of my friends will probably stir clear from me because in essence I would be a terrible influence and downer to hang around. On the other hand, if I always paint a rosy picture about my kids and represent them as perfect little angels, sooner or later those around me will get sick of my obvious bragging and seemingly Utopian life. Both extremes are probably counterproductive and of little help in the long run. However, there can and should be a balance to this touchy subject. Maybe not just a balance, but a set of rules or guidelines parents should follow to ensure they are able to get help, but at the same time stir away from negative results.
First, I believe as I do with most situations in life that the audience must be taken into account. Of course if I did not believe in the power of sharing with strangers, I would most definitely not be posting here online. Those of you who know me and are reading, you need to know that you are few and have been selected because of my belief that in some way your contributions via comments, kind words, and prayers mean a great deal to me and have been very helpful. The rest, being anonymous is a powerful way to hear other's opinions without prejudice and in many ways extremely enlightening. I also know that when I have asked for your positive thoughts and prayers, regardless of whether you know me or not, I have been blessed. The few friends and family members with which I share my parenting experiences in person have all learned to listen without prejudice and given me much of the strength needed to continue my quest of being a better father.
Second, and probably more importantly, how we say things matter. It is one thing to describe the situation in which you are involved with hopes of learning better ways to deal with what has proven to be a challenge. It is an entirely different thing to be putting down your children, or being a collector of negativity. I have learned to never tell my child that he is a terrible individual for his actions, much less that he will not amount to anything in life. If I did this, just as Joel Osteen writes in his book titled "It's Your Time," telling a child those words is like inviting them to "live down to your expectations." Nothing could be more accurate than those words of wisdom! In fact, I truly believe that my son is blessed, full of beautiful qualities, and destined to be a great man...he just does not know it yet. Thank you Joel Osteen for that amazingly useful lesson.
To those of you that are not religious, bare with the following advice that I encourage full hearted to all. Today, as you finish reading this post I encourage you to say the same thing about your own children regardless of your situation. Don't just think about it, say it out loud. Hear your lips reveal to your mind and heart the reality that is about to happen in the blink of an eye when God witnesses the secret desires of your soul. Profess that your entire family is blessed with mental, emotional, and physical health so that the angels take this news upstairs and and reveal to God your expectancy of His blessings. Say it like you mean it, like it has already happened regardless of your circumstances. I would not be sharing this with you if I did not believe it all to be true and worth doing.
Here is my family prayer...
"God, I believe that You have blessed my family with everything we need to please You. All the challenges that we have gone through are nothing compared to the blessings that You have in store for us today. We are blessed physically, mentally, and emotionally with health, wisdom, and love. I expect nothing less from You dear God, knowing that You are almighty."
Dad
Thursday, March 11, 2010
"In the Grotto"...another essay...
I sometimes take pleasure in some of the simplest things you can imagine. It is a good thing that I have this attitude, since as a working father of two teenage boys I barely have time for anything fancy in my life. I won't bore you with the details of all the little things that make me smile, but I will share the latest one that happened over the weekend. It is very common that before my oldest son heads out of the house, if we cross paths he will stop and tell me where he is headed with his friends. I appreciate that gesture immensely because it truly beats the uncertainty of not knowing were he is at during the day. One typical hangout is a small gazebo that was constructed by the city at the corner where the drugstore, pizza, and sandwich place were built just a few years back. Little did the establishments know that this small landmark would turn into a teenage refuge hangout. I have many times driven by on my way back from work and caught from the corner of my eye the unmistakable shape of my oldest son's silhouette. When this happens, and knowing that boys are usually hungry, I then pull into the parking lot and buy a couple of pizzas from the corner shop and simply walked them over to the bunch hanging out and doing their thing. As I drive away and image always comes to mind and makes me smile of piranhas diving into a bloody piece of meat thrown into the Amazon river! From there I just continue the shorter than a mile uphill drive to my home. Less than an hour later though, my son calls me from his cell phone asking if I would not mind going to pick him up so that he does not have to walk up the steep hill to get home. This might sound a bit dumb, but I love it when he calls asking me to pick him up. For one, it's nice to hear him after he has had a good time, his whole demeanor is nice and pleasant. Also, it gives me a chance to talk to him for a few minutes while we ride together in my car. That is why anytime that I am home and he calls, no matter at what time, I put on some shoes and go and get him. As we rode back home I asked him if he had written anything lately, to which he opened a cool psychedelic pouch that a friend game him as a present and pulled out a stack of at least fifty pages and said "all of this...do you want to read one?" The jackpot sign flashes in my head and I eagerly say "yes!" To which he pulls out two typed pages and hands them over to me with a curiously interesting smile. I'm driving, so the only thing I can preview is the title "In the Grotto" to which I comment, "I'll read it today..." as we pull into the driveway and we both exit back into our separate lives once again.
I've read the essay and even though it has a bit of his convoluted and complicated thinking process, I've found it interesting and entertaining at the same time. As usual, I find more than one meaning to his way of thinking, so even though it might be cryptic in nature, after reading it several times I usually am able to see much more of his mind, than just his ability to write fancy words. I am particularly fond of his choice of characters, which even though might easily be identified as the core of humanity, it also represents to me what he finds to be important and relevant to him. I've transcribed it here for you all to read, enjoy, and of course comment if you wish:
Lost deep within the nameless forest of overgrown vegetation that was once a place of title and importance to the animals that inhabited it, there does exist an open clearing and humble oasis, a brief respite of nourishment for the little apes that roamed the surrounding tangles of trees and foliage. The ground of this valley is of tall woven grass, dancing in the breath of wind echoing out the great hallway to the west, tall willows folding inwards into a patchy earthen roof, like a throat or a tunnel, with no perceivable end. Embedded into the vine-infested northern wall was a sunken grotto, a shallow flooded cave covered by the roof of what had at one time been a profitable alcoholic establishment in some long forgotten age. It opened up into a grand body of water, fed by a thin offshoot of a river leading out of the eastern sea and collected by a hole in the ground uncannily dissimilar to its surroundings.
Through the lush overgrowth one could make out metal structures of ancient design, large formal blocks embedded with the intent of momentary self importance decaying from the inside out, bars protruding from the ground attached to slabs of writing, symbols without meaning or message, their intent lost alongside the matter of their intentions. From the door formed out of time and mind entered Memory, a being of an ulterior plane of existence, who saw through the eyes of the little apes playing by the water, who spoke without words to himself and to all, in the varying amounts whichever of the all would allow themselves to hear. He knew this land and the nature behind it through any and all of the angles it could be known. This gave him an interpretation beyond judgment or precedent, an understanding of the understandableness in what he witnessed. He hung in the folds of space imperceivable and incomprehensive to the primitive creatures and watched them with a quiet foresight.
Within this same plane of existence, wandered another being from the door of time and mind: Moment. He too saw through the eyes of the apes, yet rather than patterns and predictions he would see the beauty and tragedy of individual awareness. He saw the soft moonbeams escaping from in between the leaves to illuminate the water, glowing as if from the inside, washing the grotto with light, dancing off the walls of the cave every time it rippled, and the sight of this pleased him deeply. He then say the haunting remnants of abandoned buildings and evidence of their once abundant creators, with no inclinations as to their disappearance, and this troubled him deeply. He inquired to Memory, "What happened to the creatures that erected these structures? I forget much and do not remember their histories."
"They were not unlike the apes in the valley," Memory replied. "They were of the moment, much like yourself. Because they understood not anything beyond the moment, they feared what it might hold. But most of all, they feared death, the absence of moment, as they did not understand nor appreciate its nature. This fear caused them to indulge in the moment, to indulge in passion, to indulge in power, to indulge in love and lust and hate and anger, to indulge, ultimately, in themselves. Their indulgences were rationalized and protected by delusions, by morality, by religion, by government, and these delusions were in turn rationalized and protected by indulgences, an unnecessary cycle of fear. But some of them believed in delusions different than others, and they felt that this threatened the validity of theirs, so they protected it using the same fear it had manifested from. They would kill each other over the masses, all in the name of delusions and fear. They would condition the young to be the same, to serve the delusion, motivated by fear, fear of being wrong, fear of being unhappy, fear of imprisonment, fear of eternal damnation, fear of death. As they found new, grander ways to instill this fear, the consequences grew exponentially up until the inevitable event horizon. A method of motivation got into the wrong hands of a man so twisted by delusions he used it and killed almost every living thing on this planet."
Moment paused to fully appreciate the tragedy of what he had just been told, "How truly terrible. What a dark drama the tale of these poor creatures is, foiled by what they were striving to protect, blind or at least dispassionate to the consequences of their actions. Although perhaps this place is better off without theme because of it."
"Look at the apes," interjected Memory, "They already act in the same way. The one atop the rock appears to be the leader of this group. He has lived long, he is fast to learn, he gathers the most food. The rest of them see this and they try to mimic it, because he is the one indulging the most out of life and successfully avoiding death. Allow what to them may seem like a very long time to pass, and these relationships and interactions will get more complicated, the delusion will have changed but the fear will still be there, the species will have learned but they will always act through ignorance. That is the nature of all life, functional ignorance. There was nothing wrong with the species of men, they were just alive, they were just aware, they were just animals, and eventually these animals will do the exact same thing. You could point fingers at all the people killed without reason, talking of actions unjust, but to believe these actions unjust is merely another delusion, motivated by more fear of death. The acts of man or beast are neither just nor unjust, neither good nor bad, they just are."
It took Moment some brief effort to find some passion in the idea of dispassionateness, but it was there. "I am of the moment, I only know of the delusions I indulge in, I only know that I know nothing, so I can never fully appreciate and understand such truths, yet I can appreciate and understand the qualities and implications of those truths. They are of an eternal cosmic harmony, cyclistic and communal, fundamental and intricate, a deterministic order underlying the chaos. It is of an infinitely beautiful and tragic potential, which to me is both infinitely beautiful and tragic. The deepest passion lies within the lack of passion, as to even comprehend of something so pure and so grand is beyond any potential capabilities of comprehension, a perpetual indulgence." Moment watched once again through the eyes of the apes, now with an even deeper appreciation for the inevitable tragedy of their species, and for the dramatic beauty of the journey.
In the folds of space inconceivable and incomprehensive to Moment and Memory hung a being of ulterior plane of existence with no name and no manner. He had no one to talk to and nothing to say, and the nature of men and apes, Moment and Memory, time and mind, were nothing more than components to and of him. He saw through their eyes, as they saw through the eyes of the apes, playing among the ruins of New York, drunk off the strange liquid they discovered in the back of the grotto, too busy with intoxications and indulgences and delusions to take notice of anything besides themselves.
End.
I've read the essay and even though it has a bit of his convoluted and complicated thinking process, I've found it interesting and entertaining at the same time. As usual, I find more than one meaning to his way of thinking, so even though it might be cryptic in nature, after reading it several times I usually am able to see much more of his mind, than just his ability to write fancy words. I am particularly fond of his choice of characters, which even though might easily be identified as the core of humanity, it also represents to me what he finds to be important and relevant to him. I've transcribed it here for you all to read, enjoy, and of course comment if you wish:
In the Grotto
Lost deep within the nameless forest of overgrown vegetation that was once a place of title and importance to the animals that inhabited it, there does exist an open clearing and humble oasis, a brief respite of nourishment for the little apes that roamed the surrounding tangles of trees and foliage. The ground of this valley is of tall woven grass, dancing in the breath of wind echoing out the great hallway to the west, tall willows folding inwards into a patchy earthen roof, like a throat or a tunnel, with no perceivable end. Embedded into the vine-infested northern wall was a sunken grotto, a shallow flooded cave covered by the roof of what had at one time been a profitable alcoholic establishment in some long forgotten age. It opened up into a grand body of water, fed by a thin offshoot of a river leading out of the eastern sea and collected by a hole in the ground uncannily dissimilar to its surroundings.
Through the lush overgrowth one could make out metal structures of ancient design, large formal blocks embedded with the intent of momentary self importance decaying from the inside out, bars protruding from the ground attached to slabs of writing, symbols without meaning or message, their intent lost alongside the matter of their intentions. From the door formed out of time and mind entered Memory, a being of an ulterior plane of existence, who saw through the eyes of the little apes playing by the water, who spoke without words to himself and to all, in the varying amounts whichever of the all would allow themselves to hear. He knew this land and the nature behind it through any and all of the angles it could be known. This gave him an interpretation beyond judgment or precedent, an understanding of the understandableness in what he witnessed. He hung in the folds of space imperceivable and incomprehensive to the primitive creatures and watched them with a quiet foresight.
Within this same plane of existence, wandered another being from the door of time and mind: Moment. He too saw through the eyes of the apes, yet rather than patterns and predictions he would see the beauty and tragedy of individual awareness. He saw the soft moonbeams escaping from in between the leaves to illuminate the water, glowing as if from the inside, washing the grotto with light, dancing off the walls of the cave every time it rippled, and the sight of this pleased him deeply. He then say the haunting remnants of abandoned buildings and evidence of their once abundant creators, with no inclinations as to their disappearance, and this troubled him deeply. He inquired to Memory, "What happened to the creatures that erected these structures? I forget much and do not remember their histories."
"They were not unlike the apes in the valley," Memory replied. "They were of the moment, much like yourself. Because they understood not anything beyond the moment, they feared what it might hold. But most of all, they feared death, the absence of moment, as they did not understand nor appreciate its nature. This fear caused them to indulge in the moment, to indulge in passion, to indulge in power, to indulge in love and lust and hate and anger, to indulge, ultimately, in themselves. Their indulgences were rationalized and protected by delusions, by morality, by religion, by government, and these delusions were in turn rationalized and protected by indulgences, an unnecessary cycle of fear. But some of them believed in delusions different than others, and they felt that this threatened the validity of theirs, so they protected it using the same fear it had manifested from. They would kill each other over the masses, all in the name of delusions and fear. They would condition the young to be the same, to serve the delusion, motivated by fear, fear of being wrong, fear of being unhappy, fear of imprisonment, fear of eternal damnation, fear of death. As they found new, grander ways to instill this fear, the consequences grew exponentially up until the inevitable event horizon. A method of motivation got into the wrong hands of a man so twisted by delusions he used it and killed almost every living thing on this planet."
Moment paused to fully appreciate the tragedy of what he had just been told, "How truly terrible. What a dark drama the tale of these poor creatures is, foiled by what they were striving to protect, blind or at least dispassionate to the consequences of their actions. Although perhaps this place is better off without theme because of it."
"Look at the apes," interjected Memory, "They already act in the same way. The one atop the rock appears to be the leader of this group. He has lived long, he is fast to learn, he gathers the most food. The rest of them see this and they try to mimic it, because he is the one indulging the most out of life and successfully avoiding death. Allow what to them may seem like a very long time to pass, and these relationships and interactions will get more complicated, the delusion will have changed but the fear will still be there, the species will have learned but they will always act through ignorance. That is the nature of all life, functional ignorance. There was nothing wrong with the species of men, they were just alive, they were just aware, they were just animals, and eventually these animals will do the exact same thing. You could point fingers at all the people killed without reason, talking of actions unjust, but to believe these actions unjust is merely another delusion, motivated by more fear of death. The acts of man or beast are neither just nor unjust, neither good nor bad, they just are."
It took Moment some brief effort to find some passion in the idea of dispassionateness, but it was there. "I am of the moment, I only know of the delusions I indulge in, I only know that I know nothing, so I can never fully appreciate and understand such truths, yet I can appreciate and understand the qualities and implications of those truths. They are of an eternal cosmic harmony, cyclistic and communal, fundamental and intricate, a deterministic order underlying the chaos. It is of an infinitely beautiful and tragic potential, which to me is both infinitely beautiful and tragic. The deepest passion lies within the lack of passion, as to even comprehend of something so pure and so grand is beyond any potential capabilities of comprehension, a perpetual indulgence." Moment watched once again through the eyes of the apes, now with an even deeper appreciation for the inevitable tragedy of their species, and for the dramatic beauty of the journey.
In the folds of space inconceivable and incomprehensive to Moment and Memory hung a being of ulterior plane of existence with no name and no manner. He had no one to talk to and nothing to say, and the nature of men and apes, Moment and Memory, time and mind, were nothing more than components to and of him. He saw through their eyes, as they saw through the eyes of the apes, playing among the ruins of New York, drunk off the strange liquid they discovered in the back of the grotto, too busy with intoxications and indulgences and delusions to take notice of anything besides themselves.
End.
45 Degrees and the Window was Wide Open...
I'm at that age that once I get into the habit of waking up at a certain time every morning, even if I don't necessarily have to and without the alarm going off my internal clock wakes me up and refuses to allow me to rest anymore. I've learned that if I want to sleep in, one of the few things I can do to get those extra hours past my normal get-out-of-bed time is to take a sleeping pill when going to bed the night before. Unfortunately, most gentle sleep remedies don't have much of an effect on me, and the ones that do then have the side effect of making me feel as if I was dragging a dead body over my shoulders for the rest of the day. Extra sleep comes in one single flavor for me, one night a week if the next day does not require me to either get up early or be in any significantly alert status. I just love to at least once in a while be able to sleep sound and deep enough to not be aware of anything else. It might seem a bit selfish, but as much as I love having a nice warm sexy body laying next to me in bed, I also love being able to have the entire bed for myself too.
Recently I became brave enough to venture back into my oldest teenage son's bedroom while he was out of the home with a few friends. It is totally impossible to gain access to his room when he is around, since he values his privacy a little bit too much for my taste. I understand him quite well since I too am a very private person and do not like anyone going through my stuff, but a dad has to do what a dad has to do, right? First I collected almost a full kitchen size trash bag of garbage that had found its way to the bottom of the rest of his chaotic wares. Afterwards I found the plates, forks, knives, spoons, and glassware that I knew had to be somewhere since their empty kitchen cabinet and drawer spots had already told me their own missing in action story when I cleaned the kitchen throughout the week. Patiently I made my way through his room and little by little I sorted through the mix of clean and dirty clothes giving me access to a clearer path through the previously undecipherable maze. At least one hour later the reality of how much new damage had been done to the carpet, roof, and walls became obvious, but in the terms we have all learned from the politically correct media, it is all part of the "collateral damage" inflicted during war. Seriously, my son's room is nothing short of a battle zone and just as you would probably not want to reconstruct or re-build any nation until the war comes to an end, I too have opted to only patch up things to livable standards and not put any real money or effort until this conflict is over.
I have come to the conclusion that my son is actually an alien from a different solar system than our own. In the front corner of his room and almost totally blocking the inward swing of his door, there lies a cardboard box that once held some of the contents of our move from the apartment we previously resided in. I have learned that this box is actually being used by my son as an isolation chamber. For the last three or four months he has been utilizing this box to sleep in when he finally decides to get some rest. I have proven with careful observation that his internal clock is currently set to a cycle that is much longer than the average 24 hours. In fact, a little research has revealed to me that none of the planets in our solar system correspond to his typical routine. Mercury's day is the equivalent of Earth's 58.64 days, Venus 243 days, Mars 1.03 days, Jupiter 0.41 days, Saturn 0.43 days, Uranus 0.72 days, Neptune 0.67 days, and Pluto 6.39 days. If I were trying to figure out where this alien creature came from my search would have to be expanded outside of our neighboring planets. All joking aside, I once used my key to his room to check on him while he was sleeping since he was not responding to my knocking on his door. Once I gained enough access to poke my head inside his room I could only see the lower half of his body since the other upper half was contained within the large cardboard box. When he finally realized that I had opened his room and was asking him what he was doing inside the box, his only reply was "sleeping." At the moment I could not help but wonder if this was some kind of test to verify if he could adjust to living homeless and out of a box! The thought was momentary since I have always known that he has a sleeping problem. In fact I have previously found him sleeping in the bathtub too, so a cardboard box in his room is actually and upgrade!
As I drove to work this morning and talked on my cell phone to my mom, I found myself making a comment that has stuck in my mind and am not sure how to handle its meaning. Because of my son's unusual sleeping habits it is common for me to wake up in the middle of the night just to go and check up on him to make sure all is well. I sometimes find him watching movies, playing video games, listening or composing music, writing essays, reading books, eating, all with the common denominator of a cigarette in between his fingers. The battle has been lost trying to get him to stop smoking, but at least I gained the small victory of getting him to do it outside of the house. Unfortunately, because he wants to do all the other mentioned things at the same time that he smokes, another common theme is that he will open the family room window, sit on the rail with half his body inside the room entertaining himself and the other half outside puffing on a Marlboro. Of course some of the smoke drags into the house so I've resigned myself to including in my groceries a couple of cans of Febreeze air freshener every week. I've also resigned myself to accepting the fact that any day some stranger is just going to come right into my home through the same window that he never locks and many times leaves wide open during the night. This is one of the several reasons that I sleep with my bedroom door locked. Out of all of the inconsiderate things that I have learned to live with, the most difficult for me to deal with and of which I spent some time this morning sharing in conversation with my mom, is waking up in the middle of the night and knocking on his door to find some strange new face sitting on his bedroom futton hanging out at some ungodly hour. "Who the hell is this now?" says the little voice in the back of my head as I'm looked upon as being the intruder in my own home. It is bad enough that he has a total of at least ten friends that spend a better part of their lives in my home, but them I am already used to and pretty much resigned to their presence. However, the new faces always freak me out and I am not sure if I am being unreasonable with my internal negative reaction. "Mom, it is like I have had to change who I am, how I react, and so much of myself in order to adjust to my son's behavior," I told her in our morning conversation on my way to work. "There is not way that under normal circumstances I would allow to have someone that I know absolutely nothing about to wander freely about my home," I conclude.
I feel as if I have made too many compromises and have given in far too much of myself, but when I was being my typical self all we did was fight, argue, and be at war between each other. Have I taken the easy way out by not challenging these things when they happen? Should I stand my ground and try to keep a sense of control that in my heart I know is not real anyway? No matter what I say or do, in the end my son will still be his own person and I will not be able to monitor, control, or change any of it anyway. This illness, for lack of a better word, is by far more infectious than it appears to be since even though others do not become aliens once infected, they are still forced to morph in order to survive. I have changed in ways I never thought I would ever be able to change. I am no longer who I was when these challenges and illnesses were thrusted upon me, and today I wonder if who I am is any better or worse from who I was in the past? To be totally honest, I do not know the answer to that question. I feel different but not necessarily better or worse. The common factor in me which I can safely say has only grown larger with time is my love for my son. As much as I dislike so much of what I have to put up with, I cannot help but love him more and more with the passage of time. For this I give thanks to God because otherwise I would of thrown the towel a long time ago. Instead, I have learned to understand my son even though so much in his character makes absolutely no sense to others. Ironically, I do not believe that he is aware of this deep connection that we share between us. In his mind I am completely out of touch with his world and lifestyle. What he does not realize is that in order for me to love him as much as I do, I have been forced to become a different father, in fact, a different man too. This I say it not as a regret, just a simple statement of fact.
Love is the most powerful tool I have managed to accrue in a significant and useful amount. When I wake up in the middle of the night and find myself questioning why it is that my outside doors are unlocked and some of my windows are open even though it is forty something degrees outside, even while I am still half asleep and with my eyes half closed I am able to feel my way into my heart and find an ample supply of fatherly love to get me through the moment. I sigh and as I exhale my mind clears away my instinctive desires to scream out in frustration. I remember the days when the biggest worry was negotiating between me and my wife who was to get up in the middle of the night to feed the baby, change the dirty diaper, or simply bring a few minutes of comfort to the fuzzy child. It really was not that hard to justify myself for being sleep deprived the next day when I woke up in the morning. After all, he was just an infant, and that is what infants do, right? Don't get me wrong though, my admission of how challenging raising two teenage boys has become is by no means a complaint. On the contrary, I can safely say that God knew what he was doing when He gave me my two sons to raise. I believe that I am by far the most qualified man for the job and am proud to be their father, but of course I am biased in my personal opinion. Anyway, I have come this far already and my heart tells me that at the other side of this journey are two wonderful and honorable men in the making that I will always be proud to call my sons.
Dad
Recently I became brave enough to venture back into my oldest teenage son's bedroom while he was out of the home with a few friends. It is totally impossible to gain access to his room when he is around, since he values his privacy a little bit too much for my taste. I understand him quite well since I too am a very private person and do not like anyone going through my stuff, but a dad has to do what a dad has to do, right? First I collected almost a full kitchen size trash bag of garbage that had found its way to the bottom of the rest of his chaotic wares. Afterwards I found the plates, forks, knives, spoons, and glassware that I knew had to be somewhere since their empty kitchen cabinet and drawer spots had already told me their own missing in action story when I cleaned the kitchen throughout the week. Patiently I made my way through his room and little by little I sorted through the mix of clean and dirty clothes giving me access to a clearer path through the previously undecipherable maze. At least one hour later the reality of how much new damage had been done to the carpet, roof, and walls became obvious, but in the terms we have all learned from the politically correct media, it is all part of the "collateral damage" inflicted during war. Seriously, my son's room is nothing short of a battle zone and just as you would probably not want to reconstruct or re-build any nation until the war comes to an end, I too have opted to only patch up things to livable standards and not put any real money or effort until this conflict is over.
I have come to the conclusion that my son is actually an alien from a different solar system than our own. In the front corner of his room and almost totally blocking the inward swing of his door, there lies a cardboard box that once held some of the contents of our move from the apartment we previously resided in. I have learned that this box is actually being used by my son as an isolation chamber. For the last three or four months he has been utilizing this box to sleep in when he finally decides to get some rest. I have proven with careful observation that his internal clock is currently set to a cycle that is much longer than the average 24 hours. In fact, a little research has revealed to me that none of the planets in our solar system correspond to his typical routine. Mercury's day is the equivalent of Earth's 58.64 days, Venus 243 days, Mars 1.03 days, Jupiter 0.41 days, Saturn 0.43 days, Uranus 0.72 days, Neptune 0.67 days, and Pluto 6.39 days. If I were trying to figure out where this alien creature came from my search would have to be expanded outside of our neighboring planets. All joking aside, I once used my key to his room to check on him while he was sleeping since he was not responding to my knocking on his door. Once I gained enough access to poke my head inside his room I could only see the lower half of his body since the other upper half was contained within the large cardboard box. When he finally realized that I had opened his room and was asking him what he was doing inside the box, his only reply was "sleeping." At the moment I could not help but wonder if this was some kind of test to verify if he could adjust to living homeless and out of a box! The thought was momentary since I have always known that he has a sleeping problem. In fact I have previously found him sleeping in the bathtub too, so a cardboard box in his room is actually and upgrade!
As I drove to work this morning and talked on my cell phone to my mom, I found myself making a comment that has stuck in my mind and am not sure how to handle its meaning. Because of my son's unusual sleeping habits it is common for me to wake up in the middle of the night just to go and check up on him to make sure all is well. I sometimes find him watching movies, playing video games, listening or composing music, writing essays, reading books, eating, all with the common denominator of a cigarette in between his fingers. The battle has been lost trying to get him to stop smoking, but at least I gained the small victory of getting him to do it outside of the house. Unfortunately, because he wants to do all the other mentioned things at the same time that he smokes, another common theme is that he will open the family room window, sit on the rail with half his body inside the room entertaining himself and the other half outside puffing on a Marlboro. Of course some of the smoke drags into the house so I've resigned myself to including in my groceries a couple of cans of Febreeze air freshener every week. I've also resigned myself to accepting the fact that any day some stranger is just going to come right into my home through the same window that he never locks and many times leaves wide open during the night. This is one of the several reasons that I sleep with my bedroom door locked. Out of all of the inconsiderate things that I have learned to live with, the most difficult for me to deal with and of which I spent some time this morning sharing in conversation with my mom, is waking up in the middle of the night and knocking on his door to find some strange new face sitting on his bedroom futton hanging out at some ungodly hour. "Who the hell is this now?" says the little voice in the back of my head as I'm looked upon as being the intruder in my own home. It is bad enough that he has a total of at least ten friends that spend a better part of their lives in my home, but them I am already used to and pretty much resigned to their presence. However, the new faces always freak me out and I am not sure if I am being unreasonable with my internal negative reaction. "Mom, it is like I have had to change who I am, how I react, and so much of myself in order to adjust to my son's behavior," I told her in our morning conversation on my way to work. "There is not way that under normal circumstances I would allow to have someone that I know absolutely nothing about to wander freely about my home," I conclude.
I feel as if I have made too many compromises and have given in far too much of myself, but when I was being my typical self all we did was fight, argue, and be at war between each other. Have I taken the easy way out by not challenging these things when they happen? Should I stand my ground and try to keep a sense of control that in my heart I know is not real anyway? No matter what I say or do, in the end my son will still be his own person and I will not be able to monitor, control, or change any of it anyway. This illness, for lack of a better word, is by far more infectious than it appears to be since even though others do not become aliens once infected, they are still forced to morph in order to survive. I have changed in ways I never thought I would ever be able to change. I am no longer who I was when these challenges and illnesses were thrusted upon me, and today I wonder if who I am is any better or worse from who I was in the past? To be totally honest, I do not know the answer to that question. I feel different but not necessarily better or worse. The common factor in me which I can safely say has only grown larger with time is my love for my son. As much as I dislike so much of what I have to put up with, I cannot help but love him more and more with the passage of time. For this I give thanks to God because otherwise I would of thrown the towel a long time ago. Instead, I have learned to understand my son even though so much in his character makes absolutely no sense to others. Ironically, I do not believe that he is aware of this deep connection that we share between us. In his mind I am completely out of touch with his world and lifestyle. What he does not realize is that in order for me to love him as much as I do, I have been forced to become a different father, in fact, a different man too. This I say it not as a regret, just a simple statement of fact.
Love is the most powerful tool I have managed to accrue in a significant and useful amount. When I wake up in the middle of the night and find myself questioning why it is that my outside doors are unlocked and some of my windows are open even though it is forty something degrees outside, even while I am still half asleep and with my eyes half closed I am able to feel my way into my heart and find an ample supply of fatherly love to get me through the moment. I sigh and as I exhale my mind clears away my instinctive desires to scream out in frustration. I remember the days when the biggest worry was negotiating between me and my wife who was to get up in the middle of the night to feed the baby, change the dirty diaper, or simply bring a few minutes of comfort to the fuzzy child. It really was not that hard to justify myself for being sleep deprived the next day when I woke up in the morning. After all, he was just an infant, and that is what infants do, right? Don't get me wrong though, my admission of how challenging raising two teenage boys has become is by no means a complaint. On the contrary, I can safely say that God knew what he was doing when He gave me my two sons to raise. I believe that I am by far the most qualified man for the job and am proud to be their father, but of course I am biased in my personal opinion. Anyway, I have come this far already and my heart tells me that at the other side of this journey are two wonderful and honorable men in the making that I will always be proud to call my sons.
Dad
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Medicine for the heart...
We all have moments in which we wish that there was some kind of medicine we could take that would heal our broken hearts. Not the medicine that is taken for physical illnesses, but the kind that we desperately need when we are not doing so well emotionally. A hug, a kiss, a tender gesture from someone that when we look into their eyes our emotional well being finds comfort and relief. It is easier to find over the counter medication for a soar throat, than any kind of soothing for a aching heart. No matter how tough a cookie a person might seem, if you know how to search, eventually you should be able to find a soft spot in their character that reveals so many of their emotional needs. I have seen stone hard men cry when faced with moments of despair. I for one am a terrible example of a tough man since I easily crumble when faced with the things that truly touch my heart. I can see blood and guts and not be phased in any way, but there are much simpler things that swell my eyes and make me choke in mid sentence.
I got together today with my two Puertorrican friends to do lunch. All three of us headed to our typical waterhole and as usual the table was waiting and a round of drinks and an appetizer welcomed us with open arms. The grace of the moment was instantly darkened with the news that our favorite and most beloved manager had been laid off yesterday. We do not know the circumstances that led to the decision of letting her go, but regardless our mood instantly changed from all smiles to somber regret and sadness. From the instant that we discovered such a terrible event, the food, the drinks, and even the music felt all wrong. Not a single smile could be forced out of us once we learned that we would not be sharing with her at this establishment again. I don't think it will ever be the same.
As I wrote in a very recent post, today this news brought the same old question, "why do bad things happen to good people?" If you have not read that post, I suggest you do in order to find any meaning to it all. Personally, I cannot understand why such a great individual will have to fare the weight of this kind of sad outcome. Today I find myself having to mentally apply my own lesson in order to get over the sadness of knowing that a good friend is going through such a hard time. Instead of wasting my time trying to make sense of it all, I have made the conscious choice of putting her way high in my prayer priority so that God be just and allow her to blossom from this experience instead of any of the negative alternatives. I cannot imagine anyone being more equipped than her to take on even greater challenges and succeed regardless of her current hardship. I honestly hope that this event turns her life around to bring all of the precious and wonderful prizes that her hard work and dedication truly deserves.
Life is so much more than one bad or even terrible moment in time. Personally I can attest to this reality. If I were to give up every time that things don't go my way, I would be stuck, grounded in the same place without any future. Instead I have learned that every event in my life has much more meaning than I ever give it credit when it is happening. It might take me days, weeks, and even years, but eventually I have always found a good reason for having to endure every sad and challenging moment in my life. In this same way I hope that all of you that read this blog will eventually be able to figure out why your own life has been challenged in so many different ways too. I encourage you to not waste any of your life experiences and to grow from each and every one of them as much as you are able and capable of growing. There is so much more to life than today. If this was not true, there would be absolutely no need for time.
I will dig deep into my heart today and find as many positive thoughts and prayers for my dear friend that lost her job. I will let God know that the moments that my friends and I spent with her meant a great deal to us and that we are better men because of the goodness of her heart and all of the beautiful things she shared with us throughout the years. In fact, I know that God already knows all of this, but it won't hurt to stand up and say it again so that whatever goodness is headed her way finds her as quick as possible. I know that if I were in her shoes, I would definitely appreciate all of your prayers too.
Dad
I got together today with my two Puertorrican friends to do lunch. All three of us headed to our typical waterhole and as usual the table was waiting and a round of drinks and an appetizer welcomed us with open arms. The grace of the moment was instantly darkened with the news that our favorite and most beloved manager had been laid off yesterday. We do not know the circumstances that led to the decision of letting her go, but regardless our mood instantly changed from all smiles to somber regret and sadness. From the instant that we discovered such a terrible event, the food, the drinks, and even the music felt all wrong. Not a single smile could be forced out of us once we learned that we would not be sharing with her at this establishment again. I don't think it will ever be the same.
As I wrote in a very recent post, today this news brought the same old question, "why do bad things happen to good people?" If you have not read that post, I suggest you do in order to find any meaning to it all. Personally, I cannot understand why such a great individual will have to fare the weight of this kind of sad outcome. Today I find myself having to mentally apply my own lesson in order to get over the sadness of knowing that a good friend is going through such a hard time. Instead of wasting my time trying to make sense of it all, I have made the conscious choice of putting her way high in my prayer priority so that God be just and allow her to blossom from this experience instead of any of the negative alternatives. I cannot imagine anyone being more equipped than her to take on even greater challenges and succeed regardless of her current hardship. I honestly hope that this event turns her life around to bring all of the precious and wonderful prizes that her hard work and dedication truly deserves.
Life is so much more than one bad or even terrible moment in time. Personally I can attest to this reality. If I were to give up every time that things don't go my way, I would be stuck, grounded in the same place without any future. Instead I have learned that every event in my life has much more meaning than I ever give it credit when it is happening. It might take me days, weeks, and even years, but eventually I have always found a good reason for having to endure every sad and challenging moment in my life. In this same way I hope that all of you that read this blog will eventually be able to figure out why your own life has been challenged in so many different ways too. I encourage you to not waste any of your life experiences and to grow from each and every one of them as much as you are able and capable of growing. There is so much more to life than today. If this was not true, there would be absolutely no need for time.
I will dig deep into my heart today and find as many positive thoughts and prayers for my dear friend that lost her job. I will let God know that the moments that my friends and I spent with her meant a great deal to us and that we are better men because of the goodness of her heart and all of the beautiful things she shared with us throughout the years. In fact, I know that God already knows all of this, but it won't hurt to stand up and say it again so that whatever goodness is headed her way finds her as quick as possible. I know that if I were in her shoes, I would definitely appreciate all of your prayers too.
Dad
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
I can see right through you baby!
Parenting has been the most challenging task I have ever encountered. In contrast, high school was relatively easy and unchallenging, yet I do not believe that I was intellectually special in any way. If I studied I got good grades, if I didn't I failed like everybody else failed, so I studied. College was much more of a challenge even though to be fair I have to admit that personal and social preocupations occupied a lot of my time making it much harder than it really needed to be in the first place. Finally, after completing my college degree I instantly thrusted myself into the workforce as an engineer, and then again there was very little challenge involved in what seemed to be an extremely complicated arena until I started doing the job. Soon after I found myself completely unchallenged again and eager to learn more, so three years later I was already seeking new opportunities within the system. From learning everything I could possibly learn about missile guidance systems to understanding and evaluating the complexities of radar design and their testing, I found myself bringing into my office graduate school books on gravitation, quantum, particle, and astrophysics, and the likes just to be able to fill in the gaps of time that would of undoubtibly led to a horrible boredom which I feared would be noticable and get me in trouble at my job. Years went by, and although I moved a few more times within the system seeking to fill in the professional unchallenging gap in my life, I never did find what I was looking for and eventually just settled. Don't get me wrong, I like what I do and it has its rewards, but overall I feel I should be doing much more with my abilities.
In the background, my personal life was a much different story. As much of an impossibly boring career that I had thrusted my life into, with the same intensity I found it almost impossible to figure out what to do with my by then growing marital problems. Being a scientist at heart led me to believe that every problem in life had a solution if you worked on figuring out all of the parameters that had caused the problem to emerge in the first place. In my mind I had it all figured out, and I ignorantly went about living and thinking that sooner or later all the missing parts of my life's equation would reveal themselves and eventually an answer would emerge to make it all better. Little did I know at the time that no matter how much effort I placed into trying to fix my marriage, the only part of it that I actually had any kind of true influence on was my side of the marital equation. Even if I worked hard enough to resolve my end of the problems, that could only account for 50% of the success, leaving the other 50% completely out of my hands. This is not to say that I was ever able to fix all of my own deficits, that would be very much an overstatement, but at least I was always willing to try, and try I did for years on end until one day I lifted up my arms and gave up. After the fact I can now safely say that I did give it a very good effort, I honestly did do my best, but what I did not do was find it in myself to keep going after 18 and a half years. In fact, I can clearly remember the exact moment when I gave up, when in my heart I lost total faith that it would ever get better. Interesting use of the word "faith" which until recently I thought it was an exclusive emotion reserved between me and my God. But not really, looking back at my life I can actually recognize many times in which I placed my faith in many other less divine personas. I had never been a quitter in my life and the act of losing faith that I could, she could, or we could fix our marriage was an inmense slap to my face and ego. I truly believe that if I would of put my faith in God's ability to fix our marriage, maybe then, and only then we could of survived our unique circumstances. Water under the bridge, life goes one, and I honestly do not have any regrets at this stage of my life.
I digress, now back to parenting. The challenges have been inmensly difficult to overcome, and if it were not because I have two boys to be able to compare incredibly different personalities and behavior, I would measure my achievment level with my older son as a total failure. I am probably not telling you anything you have not either heard before from other parents, or experienced yourself in the parenting of your own children. What I find rather unique to my personal circumstances is to the extent and degree in which I have changed as a parent myself in order to cope with my daily ups and downs as a father. I am definitely better equipped to handle all the extreemes in behavior today, than I was as a younger parent. One thing that I have found to help me a lot is to not be clouded by the image that my son portrays himself as a teenager. The long hair, the silly hats, the dark coats and sunglasses, all seem to be more like stage props than anything else. I actually find a lot of it to be very funny since one day he might be wearing a top hat, while the next day the boy is wearing a captain's or pilot's hat. I am pretty sure that I can probably count over a dozen different disguises, including his famous blue bath robe, which he managed to go to school in several times when I was out of town. I can tell that he is dead set in making sure that he is unique, different, and special to anyone that sees him. But don't get me wrong, these props are not always for the benefit of others since it has been plenty of times that I have seen him all alone at home wearing his cowboy hat, dark sunglasses, and any other one of his costumes while sitting all alone in the family room playing his guitar and singing his heart out. To the untrained eye the first impression would be that he is seeking my or someone else attention, but after you've experienced this kind of behavior for the last four to five years I can safely say that he could care less what anyone else thinks when he dresses up like this or any other way. I am totally immune to what might seem as his multiple personalities, mostly because I can see right through it all and still identify him beneath it all. I find it useful to sometimes just pull out one of his childhood pictures and look into his eyes and compare. Inside this almost 18 year old young man is still the same little boy that has always been, and even though he thinks he can hide, I can clearly see right through him.
Consider this, think about your own person, your childhood, your youth, your entire life. How different are you really from who you were when you were much younger? It is true that we all hope to have matured and grown some common sense by the time we have teenage kids in our lives. However, do you really feel the age that image in the mirror reflects back into your eyes? There is no way that I should have so much white hair! In my mind I feel at least half my age even if my body and all of it's pains tell me a much different story. So maybe this is why our kids will always be our kids no matter how old they become. I know that I almost always give my mom a heart attack every time I go visit and she has to face the realization that this middle aged man was once her little boy. But it does not take her long, after just a bit of conversation, a little sharing, and soon she too sees right past my outer shell and finds her once young son all over again. That is exactly what I see every time I spend any significant amount of time glancing at my boys. In less that just a few minutes all I can see is the two little rascals that would be driving me crazy asking me to play with them all the time. Daddy this, daddy that...buy me this, buy me that...really, not that much as changed. I just wished I could still hold them up in my arms cheek to cheek while they straddled their legs around my waist and their little arms around my neck...damn, that felt good!
Dad
In the background, my personal life was a much different story. As much of an impossibly boring career that I had thrusted my life into, with the same intensity I found it almost impossible to figure out what to do with my by then growing marital problems. Being a scientist at heart led me to believe that every problem in life had a solution if you worked on figuring out all of the parameters that had caused the problem to emerge in the first place. In my mind I had it all figured out, and I ignorantly went about living and thinking that sooner or later all the missing parts of my life's equation would reveal themselves and eventually an answer would emerge to make it all better. Little did I know at the time that no matter how much effort I placed into trying to fix my marriage, the only part of it that I actually had any kind of true influence on was my side of the marital equation. Even if I worked hard enough to resolve my end of the problems, that could only account for 50% of the success, leaving the other 50% completely out of my hands. This is not to say that I was ever able to fix all of my own deficits, that would be very much an overstatement, but at least I was always willing to try, and try I did for years on end until one day I lifted up my arms and gave up. After the fact I can now safely say that I did give it a very good effort, I honestly did do my best, but what I did not do was find it in myself to keep going after 18 and a half years. In fact, I can clearly remember the exact moment when I gave up, when in my heart I lost total faith that it would ever get better. Interesting use of the word "faith" which until recently I thought it was an exclusive emotion reserved between me and my God. But not really, looking back at my life I can actually recognize many times in which I placed my faith in many other less divine personas. I had never been a quitter in my life and the act of losing faith that I could, she could, or we could fix our marriage was an inmense slap to my face and ego. I truly believe that if I would of put my faith in God's ability to fix our marriage, maybe then, and only then we could of survived our unique circumstances. Water under the bridge, life goes one, and I honestly do not have any regrets at this stage of my life.
I digress, now back to parenting. The challenges have been inmensly difficult to overcome, and if it were not because I have two boys to be able to compare incredibly different personalities and behavior, I would measure my achievment level with my older son as a total failure. I am probably not telling you anything you have not either heard before from other parents, or experienced yourself in the parenting of your own children. What I find rather unique to my personal circumstances is to the extent and degree in which I have changed as a parent myself in order to cope with my daily ups and downs as a father. I am definitely better equipped to handle all the extreemes in behavior today, than I was as a younger parent. One thing that I have found to help me a lot is to not be clouded by the image that my son portrays himself as a teenager. The long hair, the silly hats, the dark coats and sunglasses, all seem to be more like stage props than anything else. I actually find a lot of it to be very funny since one day he might be wearing a top hat, while the next day the boy is wearing a captain's or pilot's hat. I am pretty sure that I can probably count over a dozen different disguises, including his famous blue bath robe, which he managed to go to school in several times when I was out of town. I can tell that he is dead set in making sure that he is unique, different, and special to anyone that sees him. But don't get me wrong, these props are not always for the benefit of others since it has been plenty of times that I have seen him all alone at home wearing his cowboy hat, dark sunglasses, and any other one of his costumes while sitting all alone in the family room playing his guitar and singing his heart out. To the untrained eye the first impression would be that he is seeking my or someone else attention, but after you've experienced this kind of behavior for the last four to five years I can safely say that he could care less what anyone else thinks when he dresses up like this or any other way. I am totally immune to what might seem as his multiple personalities, mostly because I can see right through it all and still identify him beneath it all. I find it useful to sometimes just pull out one of his childhood pictures and look into his eyes and compare. Inside this almost 18 year old young man is still the same little boy that has always been, and even though he thinks he can hide, I can clearly see right through him.
Consider this, think about your own person, your childhood, your youth, your entire life. How different are you really from who you were when you were much younger? It is true that we all hope to have matured and grown some common sense by the time we have teenage kids in our lives. However, do you really feel the age that image in the mirror reflects back into your eyes? There is no way that I should have so much white hair! In my mind I feel at least half my age even if my body and all of it's pains tell me a much different story. So maybe this is why our kids will always be our kids no matter how old they become. I know that I almost always give my mom a heart attack every time I go visit and she has to face the realization that this middle aged man was once her little boy. But it does not take her long, after just a bit of conversation, a little sharing, and soon she too sees right past my outer shell and finds her once young son all over again. That is exactly what I see every time I spend any significant amount of time glancing at my boys. In less that just a few minutes all I can see is the two little rascals that would be driving me crazy asking me to play with them all the time. Daddy this, daddy that...buy me this, buy me that...really, not that much as changed. I just wished I could still hold them up in my arms cheek to cheek while they straddled their legs around my waist and their little arms around my neck...damn, that felt good!
Dad
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