I remember while growing up my father sitting down in the family room of our home and asking me to play something on the piano for him. I started taking lessons from the age of seven and continued until I was almost seventeen. I also remember my piano teacher being frustrated with me because instead of practicing the lessons that she would assign to me, I would sometimes spend hours trying to play by ear a song that I had heard on the radio or on a vinyl record bought by one of my sisters. Even though eventually I would find a little bit of time to practice the assigned song in the piano book being used by my instructor and the mandatory scales that were also part of the weekly lesson, most of my effort always went into learning on my own a totally unrelated piece of music. Now days most of the few remaining things that I can still remember to play are not the songs in the book, but instead the few that I put in my whole heart and soul to learn on my own.More than fifteen feet away my dad would be sitting across the room with a light cigarette in between his fingers relaxed and patiently listening to me stumble across the correct notes of some song that I was trying to play by ear. Not once do I remember him insisting that I practice my lesson, much less my scales. Instead he would sometimes encourage me to try something totally different and unique. "Play a Polka!" he would say from across the room, hoping that I would bring up the tempo and play something more upbeat to his taste, but fully knowing that my piano book had none in that flavor. Now, as a father to my two sons, I finally realize what it was that he was listening to when he sat there across the vacant space allowing my fingers to bring a different taste to his attentive ears. It was not so much the music that he was interested in, it was my choice of songs and ability to play from the heart and not from a book. Because of him I eventually became very agile at making my own compositions in an effort to reveal what I was feeling with the use of my fast fingers on that old piano. Everything from slow sad melodies to quick upbeat piano parlor songs shot out of my mind and into my hands when I was inspired. I liked playing for my dad, it was rewarding just to have him listen without any real opinion of whether it was any good or not. I felt no threat or judgement from his presence, and much less intimidation by him sometimes doing a silly dance if I got carried away with something he found fun and upbeat.
About a week ago my oldest son finally decided to release a second essay he had written and promised to allow me to read at some point in time. I won't even bother telling you the title, much less posting its content since the entire five pages long was dedicated to such abstract subjects that it would serve no purpose other than to confuse you. Instead I will take this opportunity to give you my digested opinion of what I learned this time from his mental notes so that we can all try to make some sense of the big picture of his mind. I won't, I promise, go into any details of his proposed theories so that we can keep this post enlightening.
It has been most recently that my oldest teenage son has decided to delve into subjects that in my opinion really boil down to "the meaning of life." Interestingly, his sources are tied to not only gurus of the mind, but also some of the most brilliant quantum physicists that have graced our planet. As most people his age, he is very impressionable and finds many ways to take expert's opinion as always right, which in my opinion and at my age I have learned to not always agree. If history has taught us anything it is that what today makes incredible sense, tomorrow might be completely wrong. For decades physicist were convinced that the smallest particles in existence were the components of the atom, such as protons, electrons, and neutrons. However, later discoveries made that theory obsolete when they realized that even those elementary particles where also made of smaller ones too. The same thing happened with our perception of the Universe. No more than 50 years ago what we considered to be the entire Universe was all neatly packaged into just one single galaxy. Later on scientist realized that our Universe actually contains hundreds of billions of galaxies. If this is true with respect to the observable physical world, just imagine how little we really must know about the more abstract world of the human mind. I for one am convinced that total enlightenment about these subject matters is impossible, which in an interesting manner ties to my son's essay final conclusions too.
The content of the essay is deep, interesting, but overly complicated. In order for me to find the true meaning of his writing I was forced to stop reading more than once and start all over so that I could re-focus on the true intent behind his words. At first I only read blah, blah, blah, as if he was simply grandstanding with larger than life words and concepts trying to impress someone. However, the more I focused and made an honest attempt of my part to understand what he was writing about, I then realized that even though I might of not agreed with everything he wrote, the content actually made sense and was very well thought out. I do fear however that the only reason that I am able to make sense of his thought process might be because I have spent so much time wandering through his mind that my inside knowledge of it might be giving me a unique perspective that others would not be able to see. Regardless, I am happy to report that I not only enjoyed his essay, but I also learned a great deal of where he might currently be emotionally. It is hard at his age to separate his intellect from his emotions, which gives me as his father a bit of an advantage by being able to access much more than just his mind, some of his heart comes out too.
We promised each other that we would sit down and discuss the red ink comments that I wrote on the sidelines of his essay. Somehow he has not yet made the time for us to do this, but I am sure it will happen soon, which will be a great opportunity for me to validate some of the things I learned about him while reading it. When my son takes the time to put on paper his thoughts on any subject, it is pretty much the same as this blog and my posts which are like windows into my life, my thoughts, and obviously my feelings. No matter how abstract his material might seem, in between the lines there are so many different parts of him that I have found myself reading it over and over again and learning more and more about him. Interestingly, this is the same thing that happens when I listen to his music. The more I listen to a composition or a rendition of his choice, the more I find the true person that is typically hiding behind his dark long hair and elusive attitude. In fact, one of my favorite songs to listen to is a single track that he recorded on the ukulele that was later merged with other instruments he played with his voice over them. The composite version is not as revealing to me as the ukulele track all on its own. All by itself I am able to hear a great deal of him when he plays. It is almost as if he is talking to me, telling me about himself and his love for the sounds that he is creating with his hands, mind, and heart.
I got a copy of his new essay on a Friday. That afternoon I was suffering from a migraine and even though I made every attempt to read, I was never able to get past the first paragraph. When I tried to read it the next day my mind was just not focusing enough to make sense of his words. A few days went by and he asked me several times if I had a chance to read it, to which I replied that I was waiting to have some uninterrupted time so that I could concentrate and give it the attention I thought it deserved. He seemed eager to know what my opinion was so I tried again and by Tuesday I found an entire hour that I could spend without interruptions and any distractions. He had added some fancy words that I decided to replace with some simpler ones so I could read it and make more sense of its meaning. Some of the sentences were way too long, so again, I edited them with a red pen and broke them down to what I could then read and allow the content to stick in my mind. Soon I found myself understanding his view, a unique perspective on why the human mind could only gain access to true enlightenment if the individual was able to disassociate himself from his ego and so many of the barriers that evolution had created in our mental processing in order to survive. The subject matter was amazingly interesting, but the reason behind his essay seemed to slowly reveal itself in an even more beautiful way that I could imagine possible. It was about self awareness and man's limitations in his ultimate search for happiness. In between the fancy verbiage and much more than just complicated theories I found him giving mankind very little excuses to fail in a quest for knowledge, instead there was a subtle hint of hope and positive light to the otherwise dark subject. Even though he seemed misguided in his proposed chemical method utilized to gain all of this knowledge, the focus was never really about justifying the means with the end. The more I read and eventually understood, the cleaner the window to his mind seemed to reappear over and over again.
It is amazing to me how easy it would of been for me to dismiss this complicated method of communication because of the effort that it would take to make it useful. I am not so fortunate to be able to write to you about having simple conversations with my child that most parents might be able to have with their own. In my case, I am constantly challenged with having to put in a lot more effort than just listening. If I just listened to his words I would probably get very little more than a headache from my son's points of view. On the surface they seem too convoluted and many times even painful to hear. However, deep inside there is a beautiful human being that is wired much more differently than most of us, but still has the same emotional needs, desires, and doubts about finding a path to happiness. The challenge is much greater than I ever anticipated when I set my life in the path of bringing a new life into this world and becoming a father. Still, this is my son and if he did not need me in his life, that essay would of never reached my hands.
"Play my son, play something from the heart for your old dad. Let me hear what it is you have to tell me about your dreams and maybe even your nightmares. Pick whatever instrument you prefer as long as it speaks your thoughts and emotions when you play it. I will try to be fair and not judge you while you try to tell the world what it is that your mind and heart needs to say. In fact, it really does not matter if it is right or wrong, as long as you are able to play it loud and clear for me to do my silly dance and enjoy it with you."
Dad
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