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.
