I'm sitting out in the cool breeze dusk, as darkness slowly falls and the pastel colors of the subtle night sky arrive and quickly depart . The deep blue overhead gradually becomes deeper, bluer .
I'm thinking of a conversation a bit ago, with a kid of mine, off to run a marathon with their beloved; having just left their dog at a new dog sitter. Being understandably vigilant and uncertain, til the dog ran off to meet the cats and didn't come back to say bye.
I'm smiling to myself at what I know is also a rehearsal for when they have a kid, and leave them at childcare or grandparents. It's a tough learning curve.
I tell them that, myself, I figure it's better to be too concerned than not concerned enough.
I tell them that soon when they experience that ,they'll be better able to step aside from feeling silly or thinking they are stupid.
I tell them they'll learn to remind themselves that those things are thoughts , feelings. To be appreciative of their self. To go easy with the learning curve.
I think that's why they call. To hear the news from someone who has been there, and had to invent being kind and generous with self. Long before we had self-help as a bookstore category , or tv shows about loving kindness or any of that stuff at all.
Sometimes I am the thorn in my kid's side, and like all parents, I'm unsure how I got there.
Sometimes I'm the female parent who knows herbology and lives in the vestiges of a creative life and figured out how to market to clients and run a busy practice.
Sometimes I'm the female relative who is heavier and less cool ,with worse clothing, not great nice car or together material possessions , who gets no pedicures and is irritatingly unhip.
And sometimes I'm the mom, who loves and listens and suggests and defers and celebrates my kid, and then strides off, defined, into my own precious life.
I'm thinking of a conversation a bit ago, with a kid of mine, off to run a marathon with their beloved; having just left their dog at a new dog sitter. Being understandably vigilant and uncertain, til the dog ran off to meet the cats and didn't come back to say bye.
I'm smiling to myself at what I know is also a rehearsal for when they have a kid, and leave them at childcare or grandparents. It's a tough learning curve.
I tell them that, myself, I figure it's better to be too concerned than not concerned enough.
I tell them that soon when they experience that ,they'll be better able to step aside from feeling silly or thinking they are stupid.
I tell them they'll learn to remind themselves that those things are thoughts , feelings. To be appreciative of their self. To go easy with the learning curve.
I think that's why they call. To hear the news from someone who has been there, and had to invent being kind and generous with self. Long before we had self-help as a bookstore category , or tv shows about loving kindness or any of that stuff at all.
Sometimes I am the thorn in my kid's side, and like all parents, I'm unsure how I got there.
Sometimes I'm the female parent who knows herbology and lives in the vestiges of a creative life and figured out how to market to clients and run a busy practice.
Sometimes I'm the female relative who is heavier and less cool ,with worse clothing, not great nice car or together material possessions , who gets no pedicures and is irritatingly unhip.
And sometimes I'm the mom, who loves and listens and suggests and defers and celebrates my kid, and then strides off, defined, into my own precious life.
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