Monday, July 02, 2007

A Breath of Fresh Air (after a tale of Dark Confession)

It's amazing what such a thing can do for you (the fresh air). I mean it quite literally, of course.

I've been up to my...
Neck, if I'm being impartial....
Armpits, if I'm being vulgar....
Third Eye if I'm being metaphysical...
in muck and blech the last week.
The kind of muck that while living it, you just go on Auto-Matic Pilot. Not because it's your choice, just because you need to survive (the busy stupid stuff has invaded and taken complete control), and it's the Best That You Can Do...

I even heard myself reassuring me "It will be alright if you do it this way for a moment..."
And it was.
Alright (meaning all of us are still alive), but certainly not All Right.

A couple of days ago I hollered at my son for something. I don't even remember what, it's been such a common, thoughtless occurrence, lately.
He did some Monstrously Evil Thing (I roll my eyes at myself) and I let it fly.
Eric comes in, "What's going on?" and I relate the Offensive Tale, and he is equally upset.
Our heads are swelling, our hands are sweating, our jaws are clenching, our dragon scales are popping off our backs, our roars are becoming increasingly menacing, "What a bad, bad thing this child has done!" (Where are those gypsies that offered us a sixpence for this child?!?)
Trevelyn is pleading, "Don't listen to her, Dad!"

A couple of minutes later, I apologize to Trev. Before he apologizes to me.
"Mommy, I want to talk to you."
I grabbed him and hugged him close.
"I'm so sorry, Bud. I was wrong, and you are very dear to me, and I am so sorry."
We carry on with communicating our frustrations and needs, and then kiss and make up.
Trev goes into the kitchen, and Eric said something about "I don't want to be in the middle of it, and you guys need to work this out."
The Mama said, "Uh, we did work it out..." thinking "I was wrong, and I've been behaving beastly, and I'm so glad I've made up with my son."
And Trev goes over to his Daddy, and again pleads "Don't listen to her, Dad! She's a Brain Washer!"
Which is an extremely funny label if you're not the one being accused of such an evil offense, and certainly appropriate at times.
Not funny to me, however, and not fair, when I was defending my son.
Leaving me to feel cut off from the Family Love, and like the Devil, himself.
"What?!? I thought everything was alright, and we were friends...." etc, etc.

Tossing me (rather violently and headfirst) into the conclusion of......
(drum roll, please)
that when I tattle (ugh) Trev's supposed 'misdeeds' to Eric, it appears to him that I am luring him (his beloved Daddy) over to my side. Er... The Dark Side, as it turns out.
When Trev shouts "Don't listen to her, Dad, she's a brain washer!" it appears to him exactly that. That I am attempting to turn his SideKick (as Trev thinks of him, lately) against him.
And vice versa. When Trev runs to tell him of my Dark Moments, I feel like someone is trying to turn my best friend away from me.
(shakes head) I'm such a dolt.
Why had I not seen this truth before?

After an afternoon playing outside, and being baptized by the cool, clean water, and splashes, and games, and rinsing off the residual "ick", I am much recovered.

Isn't it interesting how we (I) find ourselves more and more deeply delving into this thought process and way of life.
It begins with offering freedom and unconditional acceptance to the children.
It extends to our friends. Our siblings. Our own mothers and fathers, and in-laws. To our neighbors, and community, and city, then countrymen, and hopefully The World At Large.

That's what I'm hoping for.
That my sense of Freedom (acceptance) For All will eventually include All.
My self. My spouse. My children. My world.

None being of higher rank, or of more importance than another.
All equally respected.
And all equally cherished.

1 comment:

KMDuff said...

I've been having some similar scenes here. Been blaming it on stress of moving, settling, unpacking, fixing things, being in a new place without usual friends and support system...

And yet, I don't want survival to turn into a new type of routine. Well, it is good to think about this stuff.