Abstract Chatter


It’s not even his birthday
April 12, 2016, 12:07 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

It just occurred to me that with Edris turning the big t-w-o next month iA, I’m having a hard time believing that there is someone out there who calls me “mama”.

It seems almost irrational — the type of love I feel for this little being.

Discipline. I’m getting better at keeping a straight face. It’s hard, but someone has to do it. He has the whole world wrapped around his tiny little fingers.

I recently read Imam Khalid Latif’s post about the double standards that exit between raising raising our daughters and sons. And offering a step in the right direction for how to raise boys into men. A message that was liked over 6.5 thousand times in a matter of 22 hours. But for ever 10 women who responded, there seemed to be 1 man. *This thought automatically makes me want to sing “Water Runs Dry” or “One Sweet Day,” but that’s neither here nor there.*

We’re just taking it a day at a time– or at least I am. By cultivating a safe, solid, and secure foundation. Whatever that means. That has to be one of the keys to this.

Space to run;
Love;
Trains; and
Cows.

This is our current reality.
IMG_5904 (1).JPG
Here I am protecting his every move. Letting him jump. Some days, just a little higher. Hoping he lands on his feet. But also surrounding the tile floors with foam mats.

Back to the point at hand. How do you build character? How does one recognize their responsibility to society? Where does critical thought start? How does one learn and embody compassion and justice? I just don’t even know where to begin. But maybe I should take it a day at a time and fight our daily battles on a daily basis. They should have written a handbook on this whole parenting thing. In the meantime, K. Jibran is the closest handbook I have. That, and encouraging Edris to model the great men in his life.

“Your children are not your children.
They are sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For thir souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the make upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness.
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He also loves the bow that is stable.”
Kahlil Gibran