A Poem

Here is a poem by Eric written for school about transportation (after daddy accidentally spilled a little wine on it!! Bad daddy!). It is such a lovely poem, I wanted to transcribe it here (I'll keep the original spelling intact).

There's a boat on the Water

Swoosh i'm ready to sail
said the sailer
The wind blew
The sailer jumped in the boat
He had a beautiful sight
He sailed away to find another island

by Eric Kang

His teacher wrote: "Fantastic poem Eric! It's like a story poem! :-) You used onomatopea!"

I agree it is a fantastic poem. It fills me with a spirit of adventure, the unwavering will to simply strike out on one's own. It reflects back to me the best side I see of my son.

When I read it aloud in front of Eric, he was so shy he clapped his hands over his ears and when I told him how much I liked it, he seemed suspicious. It was only after I told him that daddy used to write poems when he was younger that he seemed to accept my praise and we read it again together so I could draw his attention to the action and imagery he'd use to create such powerful feelings.

Ironically, I don't wish for Eric to become a writer like his father. I don't want him to struggle with thematic development and well-crafted expression. I don't want him to live so much in his head. I'd much rather he become an athlete or a musician or a craftsman, someone who works with his hands and body and mind in unison. It would be enough for me that the path he chose would bring him a sense of independence and continued wonder and discovery. 

Mountains and Cosmology

An out-of-focus portrait: father and son

The Child is father of the Man

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

~William Wordsworth

I had a great conversation with a friend today. He is someone I met only recently and we remarked how rare it is to meet new friends at our age; and I feel we have a special bond. He has a daughter, just a year older than Eric, who lives with her mother in Zurich.

My friend and I talked tonight about quantum physics, sub-atomic particles, physical manifestation, natural versus urban environments, free-climbing and the Buddhist cycle of reincarnation. Basically, we charted the trajectory from nothingness to Being and back again and one of our points of convergence was the belief that our purpose here is for each of us to attain a higher level of consciousness, or be doomed to repeat the cycle of mundane existence. For both of us, our children served as portals to this realm.

He told me a marvelous story about a world-class rock climber who was free-climbing some challenging, dangerous peak. The story was premised on the Malaysian belief that trees and stones manifested communicative energies--that their truth could be known through contact and meditation. My friend told me how the climber spent three days in a hammock beneath the climactic overhang--three days just meditating. During this period, the climber communed with and visualized the mountain's essence until he felt assured of the correct time and route and mode of address before deftly ascending to the mountain summit.

And while lamenting the lack of natural splendor in Seoul, it made me think about how I had lately been a difficult mountain to Eric--hard, taciturn, and imposing. In the gravity of my own cares and difficulties, when was the last time I had smiled together with my son or praised him? I couldn't remember. That's why I posted this picture.

It is perhaps natural for sons to meditate upon their fathers and to try to negotiate their moods and routines. But this is not our highest purpose. Our time together can be spent in much greater communion; the transfer of energy can be mutual and enriching instead of directive and restricting. Car rides, waking up, doing homework, going to bed. These are ample opportunities for the mountain to speak.

Not only this but I remembered with conviction that children are higher beings than we adults. They are nearer the summit of enlightenment, manifesting greater harmony with universal energies and their environment. This whole blog is premised on this fact--the fact that my son is an incarnation of divine spirit.

I want to wash myself with rosewater to rid myself of any curses, cares or constrictions so I can present my son with something more than a cold, blank face. I will make more time for physical contact, affection and communion. I will not be an imposing peak of sheer rock and treacherous overhangs; I will be replete with cracks and crags and inviting outcroppings for him to latch onto; I will show him how a mountain is home to complex ecosystems of thought and how it interacts with the emotional climate to create dazzling life-weather patterns; I will help him to aspire to lofty peaks, while nourishing him with refreshing streams of encouragement. For my son, I will become a mountain who moves and speaks.

Small Pleasures

Tonight, as Eric dozed on the sofa of my new apartment, I found myself rising repeatedly from my work to replace the blanket he kept discarding in his sleep.

Gently re-enfolding his half-naked body in the cover filled me with a dutiful sense of satisfaction. The dim glow from my desk lamp seemed to consecrate each ritual bundling, reminding me of when he was just an infant wrapped in swaddling cloths.

I tell you that these momentary, intermittent interludes brought me pleasure that felt deep and timeless. It was as if we existed purely in the moment, untouched by all other concerns. And that, whether in our brief shared past or in a thousand imagined futures, I would always be his father. And he would always be my son.

First Lost Tooth

The tooth had been wiggly for a few weeks now. Eric kept us well informed with continuous updates on its status. Anticipation for the climactic moment seemed to be quietly welling and he was handling it like a pro.

Then, casually, one morning over eggs and bacon, he shouted his discovery:

"My tooth! It came out!"

He didn't seem to mind the tiny trickle of blood. He was more interested in how we were going to preserve the tooth for the tooth fairy. Luckily, his mother had prepared a perfectly-sized clear plastic jewelry case--just the thing to protect this precious treasure.

It was surely something to be proud of. A badge of honor. He would be the center of attention from his teacher and his friends for a week or so. And it would be an easy subject for adults who wanted to engage him. I have no doubt that seeing his friends endure missing teeth sold him to the fact that losing a tooth was a natural, mostly painless ordeal. That doesn't mean it wasn't still a big deal.

It's times like these I have to pause and remember what it was like first learning about my body. It's natural processes, its healing properties, its unusual idiosyncrasies.

He's getting older now. I feel it so tangibly. He eagerly seizes any opportunity to enlarge the borders of his autonomy. He's still reliant on his parents, of course, but there's the other side to contend with, too: his yearning for new and definitive experiences.

To a child, the clear and monumental watersheds of maturity are not measured by centimeters of growth or the onset of puberty or the assumption of greater responsibilities; no, they are measured in tangible details like lost teeth and goals scored and kisses given or received. And the value of these assets is tangible, too! For Eric, one tooth = 10, 000 Korean won.

First Sleepover

Finally, after months of prodding mom and dad, Eric was finally able to host his first sleepover.

After soccer practice, I convinced Jinu's mom to let me take the boys out for some fun. I had some shopping to do and thought the boys would enjoy themselves in the playroom. It was late when we finally finished dinner and ice cream at the food court so I simply asked Jinu's mom if he could sleep over. A little coercion by Jinu and the boys were bouncing off the roof on the drive home.

Things went quite smoothly all things considered. Let the boys play Wii for an hour and told them that they had to be in bed by 9:30. It's always surprising to me when young boys willingly follow a grownup's arbitrary rules!

As it was his first sleepover, I felt a responsibility to try to make it memorable so I imposed a silly No Laughing rule after lights-out which I had to enforce a couple times with "The Claw." The Claw is my all-purpose tickling, grabbing, discipline device. It's just my hand with its fingers clenched. After a couple predictable disruptions, the boys were asleep by 10:00.

They were up bright and early though by 6:30 AM playing Wii and watching TV. I dragged myself out of bed around 8:30 to make them some grill cheese toast in which they only showed a passing interest. At times, Eric would be playing his DS and Jinu would just be watching, or vice versa. It reminded me that sometimes childhood friendship was like that: someone along for the ride. You like them for that quality.

I considered organizing an activity for them before Jinu's mom came to pick him up but then thought better of it. It's important that adults not impose too much upon 5-year old hearts.

Photos by Eric

Self Portrait with Tattoo

Without any prompting or direction, Eric has begun to take pictures with the small Canon Ixus-70. I suppose that he will soon be uploading, editing and mixing his stuff together with Adobe Premiere. (Sigh!)

On the other hand, great!

"Here iz Kitty"

Self Portrait of Right Leg

Self Portrait at 110 cms

And here are some of Eric's favorite things as seen and composed by him:

Nintendo DS and Game Case

Pepero, Lego, Remote & Grill Cheese Sandwich Collage (Sunday Blues)

Rhapsody in Footwear

Book of Infinite Alphabet Stickers

Self Portrait: Alien-head

Eric Kang: MVP

(For the last several months, I have posted about Eric and our family in a blog dedicated to Eric's mother. I will try to parse some of the posts pertaining to him into this blog at a later date.)

Eric began playing soccer almost a year ago. He and I enjoyed the Saturday morning drives out to the isolated sports complex, nestled among the quiet, open hills that mark Seoul's southern border. Sometimes his mother would accompany us, and usually the hour of instruction was followed by a shared meal or a much-anticipated fruit smoothie treat.

His teachers are two young women--both former national soccer team players--that Eric appears fond of. And the routine of rudimentary drills followed by a free-flowing scrimmage is exactly the blend of discipline and abandon that I approve of.

Though the instruction is entirely in Korean, Eric gamely adapts to the gestures and responses of his peers as well as to the well-intentioned "advice" of his doting parents.

***********************************************************

After a winter lull, the new season began and a crop of fresh kids joined the class while the older boys graduated to the next level. Eric, still 5 years old, became one of the class veterans and was expected to set an example with his skills and behavior.

Eric is at his best when given a challenging task and he enjoys any opportunity to perform in front of an appreciative audience. There is something of the ham in him (like his father!) and this is the reason that he has developed a passion for playing goalie. In his first ever stint between the posts, he made a particularly acrobatic dive-save that resulted in a spontaneous eruption of applause and impressed murmuring among the parents. I saw it more as a positive sign of Eric's physical boldness and aggression rather than strictly prowess. From that day, however, he would always at least volunteer to be goalie for a half.

Lately, in overseeing his progress, I've become mildly concerned about his tactical understanding and his seeming attachment to glory over competence. He sometimes plays far off the ball in anticipation of the play but also, perhaps, to avoid physical confrontation. He sometimes lingers behind at his own goal, even when he is not the goalie, even when the play is at the other end of the pitch. He is often distracted and more interested in hijinx than in the game itself. This is all par for 5-years old I realize, but since he's here to learn and improve, I have to sometimes exhort him to focus on the ball, the game or on simply making a sincere effort.

As a career mediocre athlete (or "specialist" as I like to call myself), I am painfully aware of the undue burdens that frustrated parents can inflict on their kids what with the vicarious living and the unfulfilled dreams of glory and all. This awareness prevents me from becoming either too emotionally invested in Eric's play or too vociferous in my field-side exhortations. I was kept in check recently by Eric's exasperated plea, "Daddy, stop talking or I can't do anything!" Well said, son. Bad daddy.

Still. I watch for signs of his development, both mental and physical. I can't help but extrapolate clues to his future emotional well-being based on his desire to please and on his determination to meet challenges. It's not that I want him to be masterful (though that would be fine); I'm looking for signs of his growing mastery over himself.

************************************************************

Last week was Eric's best all-around game ever, reconfirming for me the primal importance of play in children's development. (And parents's too, I guess.)

They started the scrimmage defending the goal closest to where the parents sit, so I was able to offer Eric some instruction and encouragement. Mostly, as I talked with another mother, I tried to limit my comments to "Pay attention," "Follow the ball" and polite applause for good plays.

As the game wore on, Eric fell back into his routine of lingering by his own goal as a defensive stopper, despite his father's urging to join the rush. On this day, however, Eric was mostly vindicated and made several key stops and clearances, including one against a teacher. I applauded these gritty plays loudly.

It also occurred to me that his reticence in leaving the goal area might also be because of his lack of faith in the quality of his teammate's goaltending. Though he has never openly voiced frustration or disapproval, Eric is a good goaltender and I think he genuinely does not want to see his teammate feel pressured or exploited. He will offer a kind pat on the back or eagerly chase after the ball for his goalie. I think now that that this is just his way of showing care. A kind of budding leadership.

On a corner kick, I again urged Eric to join the play and this time he complied. After a mad scramble in front, Eric's foot was the last to strike the ball, knocking it past the scrum and into the net. An acrobatic celebration followed with Eric cheering himself and running to high-five the teacher and his teammates. (Where did he get the inspiration for celebrating his goal with a cartwheel?) I was muted in my praise and only applauded, not wanting to make a scene in front of the other parents. There would be time enough for flattering words on the drive home.

Before the end of the half, Jinu, Eric's friend and the best player on either team, also scored to tie the game.

It was a seesaw second half with chances for both sides. Eric again played a vital role as fullback/sweeper boldly meeting the other team's offensive forays. With time running out, Eric's team was pressuring the goal right in front of where the parents sat. After a deflected shot, the ball caromed towards the sideline. Eric made a sliding kick at an awkward angle just inside the penalty area to save the ball. The trajectory of his shot propelled the ball in the opposite direction, past the stunned keeper and towards the far corner of the net.

GOOOOOOAAAALL!

Pandemonium. Eric scored both goals for his team in a 2-1 victory. More importantly, his stellar play elevated his father's nervous apprehension and greedy ambition into a proper reverence for the arena of self-knowledge that sport affords.

I am immensely pleased. Not because Eric was singled out with a sticker for his outstanding play, and not because his efforts were rewarded by goals or victory, or because he was able to savor success's false twin: accolade.

No, I am pleased and grateful because I see that Eric has thrown himself--recklessly, earnestly and whole-heartedly--into another creative endeavor. I am especially appreciative of his dogged determination to overcome his father's woeful lack of faith with a cartwheel and a shout! And I am left to admire his enthusiastic devotion for his friends and teachers, and applaud his dramatic dives and stumbles around the pitch.

Eric Kang: My Most Virtuous Prayer.