In honor of a life taken too soon.

The dichotomy of love.

When you love a child with all of your heart, as I love my daughters, you must endure the opposing pull of your consciousness - the you that knows what really matters, juxtaposed with your mortal self...the petty independent ego self.

When you come to deeply realize the temporal nature of life, the absolute lack of permanence and control, then it becomes quite useless to defend your small egoic self from its perceived injustices. When we really sense the thickness of the mud we are all constantly pushing through to reach our "goals" or "destiny", then we are humbled to try to just love, to the best of our ability. To simply try and expect nothing.

The egoic self stands up for its rights. Won't be taken for granted or brushed aside. Expects gratitude in exchange for giving. Expects something in return, at the very least kindness, and if that can't be had then we demand respect. I suspect even the most enlightened among us feel it and challenge those who claim they no longer feel the pangs of ego pushing them into negativity.

But with love...and with awareness, none of that matters. The higher self knows this is a petty small game we are playing. So, are you going to live one more moment in discord, when you can shift and love and forgive in the blink of an eye? You can...just let it go...in a second.

Part of the job of raising children to be independent adults is to enforce your own boundaries. Once they are old enough to do something themselves, they should do it. As they mature into adults, you expect them to give more, appreciate more, participate more in the responsibilities not only for their lives, but to care for yours as well. A family takes care of each other. At least that's my perspective.

From the vantage point of creating "healthy boundaries" and demonstrating "self-respect", parents are entitled to take offense if their offspring are reckless in their self absorption. My definition of healthy boundaries comes from innate knowledge, and were reinforced by my education as an MFT. In layman's terms, a healthy boundary does not mean we are isolated from responsibility for each other, nor does it mean we are intertwined. There is a give and take and adjustments take place to accommodate that process.

Speaking of perspective, it is important to note the perspective from which I speak. I am not talking about parentified children, who end up playing parent to their dependent elders. Nor am I addressing myself to cultures who for either economic or cultural reasons have multi-generational family dwellings. And I certainly do not speak from a household in which true abuse exists.  I cannot speak from these perspectives because I have not experienced them and do not have the arrogance to claim to know.

I am speaking to the nuclear, middle to upper class American child, who grows up well cared for.  I am speaking of that which I know, both as a child and as a parent.

So when the self-denying parent (me) comes up against the cold hard slap of their beloved's unbridled ego (my daughter), my knee jerk reaction is to respond in kind. Defensiveness, anger, hurt, lecturing, explaining, all in the guise of teaching. If fatigue is present, all of the above take epic proportions, just ask my 17 year old. Tonight's rant resulted in the comment "You probably won't even visit me in the nursing home". Its very funny, isn't it?

And then, the child prepares to leave you for a moment... or for an hour, a day, week or a lifetime. You really don't know in any minute which of those it may be. What you thought would be a moment can unexpected turn into the nightmare of a lifetime. The swim that went wrong, the car that didn't stop at the light, the gunman opening fire, the unrelenting twister or tsunami, an unexpected aneurysm. Any and all of these are daily occurrences in the lives of unsuspecting mortals.

Think I'm paranoid? Neurotic? That's ok, you can. I have asked myself this as well. But I have come to feel confident that  I see clearly.  Because I remember watching the towers fall on 9/11 and thinking...how could this be happening??  The fact is it can and it did. Each time the voice of denial comes in to tell me I am being paranoid...I remember that day. If a seer had told any of us that two planes were going to smash into those towers and that they would crumble, most of us in ordinary consciousness would look at them askew.

Yet we can accept the cold fact of our mortality and live with it... not as a whip at our back, or as a haunting, but as an alarm in our ears...WAKE UP! NOW! To what really matters.

Because in the aftermath of these events, all of that small pettiness, that well deserved and justified offense..well, what are you going to do with that in that moment of loss? Did you Punish? Ground? Stand your ground? Stonewall your child as they exited your door, without acknowledging to yourself that they could be exiting your life...without making sure that hug let them know how precious and wonderful they are?

This is where I become the weak-kneed, bleeding heart pushover. Gladly. We have a rule in my home: Never leave each other angry.

This rule was etched into my spirit the last day I saw my father alive. We argued, not about anything between us, but about a circumstance created by my brother. That was the last moment we shared together. Looking back as I have, I now know that he was tired. I realize that it was not my brother's youthful, irresponsible behavior that my dad was asking me to accept. He was asking for my help...to help him out. In my ignorance and youth, I didn't hear him. I was fixated on my frustration at my siblings behavior. I thought my dad and I had forever. Actually, I didn't think about how long we may have had together. I didn't know that in the middle of the night his heart would give up; a heart well worn from years as a NYC firefighter, damaged from saving children's lives...literally. It was just another day.

My brother suffers a different pain from the same day. There was guilt felt and blame directed. My family suffers that pain as well, knowing there was conflict. We shared the same stupid mistakes. The same last 24 hours. My elder siblings had regret at things left unsaid, love left unshared. I comforted myself knowing the entirety of our relationship was full of love. But I still regret those last moments.

Three decades later, with my own children, I struggle internally with every argument, every ill feeling. Part of this is due from my experience with my dad, compounded by my own brush with death in the form of a potentially life-threatening illness. I will never forget the horror I felt at of the thought that my small children might not remember me.

My older daughter has rejected this preciousness and will go weeks without checking in. I can't blame her really, how can you launch confidently into this world if you are prepared for each day to be your last? And I have come to accept it. But I miss her presence in my life and I hope we in fact have time. I fear, not that I will be left with things unsaid, but rather if my daughter were to lose me unexpectedly - I ache for her grief, pain and regret.

Ah motherhood! Even in this, the selflessness of the role trumps self concern! She's 22 and I still want to protect her from potential pain and sadness, even if I feel offended and rejected. If you have and love your children fiercely, you know exactly what I mean. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. I'm not religious, but I think that is a lovely gesture attributed to Jesus.

The motivation for this post?  A close friend's teenage son witnessed his own friend drown while they were playing on a rope swing over a canal. Its the first week of summer break, they were being boys. He and his friends tried to save the drowning boy, but were unsuccessful.

This young man will forever be haunted by this day, by the action/inaction of he and his friends. His parents shutter at the thought that it could have been their son. They also share the loss because this was a boy they welcomed into their home and treated like a son.

My younger daughter and I both felt deeply the impact of this. We spoke of the sadness, the shock. We shared the inexplicable terror of life's unpredictability.

And then an hour went by and my head began to ache. My body became chilled in the 80 degree Miami weather;  symptoms of my condition which had been discovered to be non-terminal 8 years after the first diagnosis was made. Naturally, at the time I was relieved...but I had endured the poisonous treatment and grown accustomed to some form of the illness rearing its ugly head in intervals. I grew accustomed to living with the charade of my terminal diagnosis.

I was hungry. Hadn't eaten enough. My daughter was in a hurry to go see her boyfriend. She made herself a sandwich, but didn't ask me if I wanted one. I thought to myself, "She knows I'm tired, hungry, ill, why she didn't think to offer to make me something as well?"  I was hurt, feeling sorry for myself. Felt let down, ultimately unloved. All the nasty emotions were compounded by my past experience with her sister, who left the house to live with her boyfriends family at 18 and never looked back. Who I fear would let months go by if I didn't reach out first with a text or call to let her know...I love you.  Irrational emotions flooded me.

So I went out to the kitchen, feeling indignant, hurt & angry. I banged around dishes as my daughter sat eating her sandwich. Finally, I told her how I felt. We exchanged our defenses and I came to the "lonely in a nursing home" conclusion, which she thought was evidence of my being irrational, while I felt justified 100%.

Like many parents, I ask little of my daughters. I give everything. I think about their needs and act on them. Often, my weekends are spent as the driver of the carriage while my younger one plays princess. And in all fairness, she is an incredibly awesome daughter. Loving, considerate, thoughtful, talented, funny...I could go on and on. My older daughter is also amazingly sweet, smart and when I do see her...very loving. Nothing is better than her hugs. My girls bring great joy to my life. But, they do put themselves first. And so it is. Friends (and my mother) say I should take a page from their book.

Here was a moment for my younger child to give back a drop of what she has received...and she dropped the ball. I know, I hear it..she's a teenager. I don't totally buy that excuse (especially when I am tired and hungry)!  It was all about her...using my gas and my car to see her boyfriend. Can you hear the resentment creeping in like toxic waster? Ungrateful b#*ch.

And then the moment came for her to leave the house, and thankfully, I snapped out of it. I told her I was just sharing how I felt. She said she was sorry I felt that way. We said I love you and no hard feelings, and she was off.

And when I received her text telling me she arrived at her destination safely, I was greatly relieved.

There are many other moments where the lines are not as blurred, where my children are clearly out of line. Even in those moments, which can get ugly, we resolve it. We accept that we have sweet and loving selves and dark, mean, scary selves. And we choose which self we want to hang with.  We always choose love. And in that moment, the hard places melt away. And my heart is at ease again, as are theirs.

Some reading this may say I am too soft, have spoiled my children and things of that nature. But if my daughter should have met a different fate that night, much as that night I said goodbye to my dad and the last time that teen boy's parents told him they loved him, well...that changes all that rhetoric, doesn't it? For me it does. For me what matters is not my pride and whether I was right and my loved one wrong. I dare say the only thing that really matters...is that we love each other, well.

Ultimately, isn't this something we could bring to strangers as well? To be that patient customer, to let the other person have the right of way, to not take offense at our co-workers remarks, to simply smile and say hello as we pass. To create a more loving and light-hearted community. Its really not that hard if we just dig down and open our heart and let go of our attachment to our pain.

We need to snap out of the demands of our little selves and be present to the moments of our life as they occur, to the people that surround us. This is difficult in a society where there is economic benefit to keep the masses struggling to keep their heads above the water. We will keep pursuing outward appearances of success, the comforts of wealth, even the rights of justice...go ahead and rage against the machine if you have it in you.

Life is like a roulette ball, bouncing around this thing we call existence. And we like to imagine we are either the dealer or player.

Time to turn and walk away from the table.

Crossroads
leave me stuck
Standing in the moment
only my gut
to lead the way.

still? crossroads?

what did I think
I thought I thought
Thought and thought

And again, here
time to choose a path
The unknown

What do I know
What do I have to show
for what
I know.

In the now
Now is all there is
To know.

But still
I must go one way or another
Grateful for the dilemma

Oh, if only I was one of those
Who knew
All along
Who found their way through the maze
To contentment.

Did they back track?
You throw yourself into it
And then...pry yourself out.

Why the sadness
at this crossroad
Because I must choose

For the first time
Growth is not enough
to warrant the pain
Have I reached a plateau?

I know what I know and know it is enough
I am enough

Survival drives me
Not clout or vanity.
Survival, still?

God bless my soul.

3.25.13 poem

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Running, racing, pacing

The floor

Searching, seeking, now tweeting

For something more

The world of man in all its glory

All of life…The master story

Told retold passed down, passed on, passed over.

The world of beauty

In each blossom, swell and breeze

With ease….we sit and soak our soles in the sand

Our souls are in the hand

Of the spirit we command...to serve us well

To save us from our imagined hell.

That which we don’t understand.

Deeper in, further out we roam,

Further from home

The continu - ommmm

Why these minds, these lobes,  we probe

Creating these illusions

Of  grander…of strangers, of separation and solitude and sin.

As if we could be separate as we orbit and spin

Lose, no we win….and gain…the recognition of our name.

Stay in, burst out…laugh, love, shout, what is this world of man all about?

The self imposed, self absorbed, self defeat of something more.

Or less…"how much was that dress?", I confess…I want more, not less!

A foot in this world, the other unknown

I sing the song of a mortal

In my simple, single poem.

This is my very first post. Not sure there will be much more than this, but I needed to get it started. To see how it will look, how it will be once I get the engine running. I need to get my engine running.  Good. Done. And Post