I turned 48 two days ago. It was a simple, wonderful day, which made me realize once more what happiness is and how lucky I am. Just getting sung at in the morning 'lang zal ze leven...' by my beloved one's, talking over breakfast, the three of us watching an animated movie about a bee (Maya) who will at the end solve chaos by making two opposite parties work together, and during the evening (thanks to a wonderful MitMit) going out for dinner, just Ciska and me. You know that you are lucky if simplicity equals happiness and a regular day is filled with conversations and occasional laughter. Each of those moments is precious, and I value them dearly. I value all the people I know, and I am grateful for all those I encounter.
As a mother that only just started to understand a tiny bit of what it means to be wise, I set myself one goal when my (our) son was born: to - hopefully - let him grow up to be happy. To be in tune with himself wherever he chooses to go. Keeping this motto in mind, I make choices, or I react to circumstances if I think his happiness might be under thread.
Yesterday, Isaak and I went to visit family. After a while I got uncomfortable with what one of the kids did, he (2 years older then my son) kept teasing Isaak, throwing things at him, thumping him, although Isaak asked him to stop a couple of times. I signaled my son to come inside of the house for a moment, and I told him: "pick up some plants too and throw that to the other child. He will most likely stop with throwing things at you then". My son did it, but the other kid kept on throwing things, now with more energy.
I am not much of a talker under such circumstances. I am more of a mother hen: my eyes get tiny and I become more focused in a peculiar way. So, I step outside to get closer to my son. The playing continues, and my son gets pushed, once, twice ... I make a remark not to push my son anymore. Nothing threatening, just a verbal, clear sentence. And as he is pushed a third time, the Change-that-I-try-to-Avoid happens. I step forward to the kid, blasting out loud, being the fury that I can be, telling him never to push my son ever again, not now, and not even when I am not looking for I would track him down no matter where he would be. The space where we stood froze.
I always had this trait, it comes natural to me. Every single cell is activated, and from my inner core the anger starts to twirl until it comes out in a roar... a bit like a gargoyle warning off evil. I have used this physically born energy on multiple occasions, for both physical and mental purposes, as such I feel it is at times a helpful trait. For me, pushing back, claiming my place loudly, and being prepared to back it up with more is the right thing to do... for me.
My son turns to me and says: "Mom, I am sorry. I did try to throw things at him, but it looks like I did not do it right." and he looks at me with his big eyes, feeling sorry that I got mad because of him. All the energy turns to flatness, as I realized I tried to 'solve' something of his life, my way. And my way is not who he is. He is not a person that throws back whatever is thrown at him. He does not have the anger, and he does not need to have it. What he does, is turn things around. He comes from a different background, a different time, even from different genes... him, my beautiful son. He is his own beautiful self and he knows - intuitively - how to work with his knowledge and his environment and solve things his way. The way he acts is even described in the earliest tale related to his name. My son is the wisest, I am only one of his gargoyles.
Plato said that knowledge is innate, and that learning is the development of ideas buried deep in the soul ... It seems my son's soul is much more in tune with peace and wisdom than mine. So today, I write some more, asking questions, in a quest for knowledge and especially wisdom. My teachers have many faces, and one is very kind.