Authority continued...
No child ever asks to be brought into this world. Adults choose this either intentionally or inadvertently. Why then do so many adults seem to blame or threaten the child for not playing within their rules or living up to their expectations?
It seems to me that children are a gift. A blank canvas of awareness, imagination, and possibility. The adult’s job, certainly the parents and others who help raise them, is to support the child in filling this canvas with all of their, the child’s, innate and unique expression and potential. This is true “author-ity” as I see it. Not imposed externally from well-meaning, or not, adults. But nurtured from within and out of the child, encouraging them to author their own life story in alignment with their one-of-a-kind spirit and soul.
Part of my own uniqueness, drawing from both my confidence and creativity, was to try and recreate experiences that had caught and roused my attention with their energy and excitement. One example was the downtown Meridian “Christmas” parade. As a child, standing with anticipation on the sidewalk, hearing the band and the parade floats and vehicles from a distance, I could feel the excitement growing in my chest and the chills on my arms. And then the motorcycle policemen would come first with the low purr of their motors, their flashing lights, and sporadic sirens to signal that something was about to happen, that the parade was coming. I wanted to be these motorcycle policemen. Not because I wanted to be a cop, but because I wanted to be someone or a part of something that would cause others to pay attention to and feel this same energy and excitement that I was feeling.
Case in point, back on the dead end of Parkway Blvd. for one of my earlier birthday parties, and even though it was raining, I wanted to create my own parade. I gave each of my fifteen or so invitees a plastic musical instrument, somehow convinced them to stand in a single file line, and then led them on my bike with toy siren sounding down the street and back into our driveway and car port for cake and ice-cream. I can only now summon a hint of the energetic feelings I had for trying to execute the idea itself and perhaps in proudly mounting my bike for the short route. I’m thinking my guests may not have shared my emotions as they marched in the precipitating puddles attempting to produce musical sounds from their soggy instruments.
What’s the point of this little illustration? I think it’s that even as a child I wanted to be part of something or help create an experience where people would feel alive. Or perhaps if I’m being more honest, where I would feel alive.
*Thanks for reading and/or listening. Continue to next post Subtle Lines: Gender. To read from the beginning please go to Why I'm Writing posted in the Archive.
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I resonate with this. I used to tell my mother that I didn't ask to be born. I finally came alive in my forties. I came out, met my wife, and we've been together 30 years. It was not without it's pain. But worth it!