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.