Wednesday, April 18, 2012

460 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!!! Part 48

Swinging ...
As Mom's head shakes vigorously up and down, I respond, "Life is divided into four seasons for a good reason—and youth may be smart but smart is not wise when the voice of 'seasoned' experience and knowledge’ is ignored."
 “And how!  So, tell me, Annie, how did a normal, little girl grow up to be so analytical?”
“Actually, I think it began with two English teachers, one in high school and one in college.  Both emphasized the importance of seeking deeper meaning in literature, concerning the grand scope of life.
Throughout my adult years, I’m fascinated by the impact that metaphor and symbolism have on our minds.  In fact it’s rare to see me reading without a highlighter in hand.  In hopes of hooking up with like minds, I’ve organized several book groups.  And by now, I guess you could say that while reading for pleasure, deeper meaning seems to leap off the page in 3D.
After graduating from college, I loved teaching other people’s children so much that I thought motherhood would be a cool breeze on a sunny day.  Needless to say, two situations that seem alike on the surface are often as dissimilar as they can be! *I learned that ANY relationship, which feels like a sunny day, can whip itself into a wind storm of devastating proportions once a 'mild' power struggle has reason to blow up into an uncontrolled gale.  (Have you read the posts entitled FIRST KISS?)  This is most especially true when unresolved power struggles intensify within the structure of the family.
Thank goodness, one of my neighbors introduced me to the theories of Rudolph Dreikurs, who wrote CHILDREN THE CHALLENGE.  As I practiced one suggestion after another, which described step by step methods, leading toward peaceful conflict resolution between parent and child—and as each suggestion proved successful with my preschoolers at home—well—I was hooked. and the more information my mind soaked in, the more inquisitive I became. In fact, when some people tell me I’ve grown too analytical, I reply, ‘Growing is the right word, because I wasn’t born this way.  From that time on, much of what I choose to read suggests changes in attitude, culminating in personal success.  And that's why I've come to value the rewards of working to deepen my connection to analytical thought processing throughout my life.  In fact, today, I understand why solitude on Walden Pond was so important to Thoreau.  When surrounded by the maddening throng, it's impossible to think deeply enough (clearly enough) to recognize self-defeating patterns, which cause us to face the same problems, repeatedly.  With analytical thought as my ally, I no longer breathe life into the pretense that I've 'gotten over' something, when, in truth, I've shoved a problem under the rug.  When problems are shoved under rugs, passive aggressive emotions skulk around inside dark corners of my subconscious.  *Once I came to see that unresolved conflicts breathe life into passive aggressive tendencies, I decided to sweep old ghosts, lurching around inside my subconscious ghosts, out into the open.
"What good does that do, Annie?"
"Well, in this way, I come to know more about myself, Mom.  Think of Socrates:  When he said, ‘Know thyself’, I believe the sage had meant to say: 'People of Athens—heed my words!  If you walk through life, blind to your insecurities, weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and misperceptions, you’ll suffer unnecessary head on collisions, break ups, or breakdowns, because your trains of thought will continue to chug through dark tunnels toward dead ends, where your loco-motive will crash into doorless, windowless, solid, brick walls.  If LIFE is to offer a fluid, back and forth flow of ideas then the narrow confines of our minds must expand—but here’s the rub:  The older we get, the more challenged we feel about changing old habits and reconsidering traditional beliefs, which make us feel safe.  If we are to preserve our strengths, I implore you to join me in mustering the courage to sit on our egos, summon humility, and take long, honest looks into our mirrors—right now!'  Being a guy, Socrates tried to say all of that in two words ...
On the other hand, perhaps this sage (whose orations, concerning disambiguation, rang out between 436-401 B.C.) had hoped that after two words soaked in, he'd gain the full attention of his peers.  However, much to his dismay—a room full of impatient tribunes rose up enmass and drowned out the voice of wisdom as each shouted out, 'Enough rhetoric, already!  The ayes have it!'  And with a raise of hands, the messenger of bad tidings was sentenced to die!  And though tis sad that the sage—whose thoughts had considered the welfare of all—met with such an untimely, disrespected death, those responsible for his demise could not know that his spirit would live on to fly through cyberspace from one generation to the next, whispering, 'Know thyself,' into the ears of truth seekers, who sit and write or stand on soap boxes, in hopes that the wisdom of Socrates may be absorbed into our daily lives, round the world, every day."
By now, I'm laughing, and as laughter is contagious, Mom's sense of humor connects with mine, so chuckling along with me, she exclaims, “Annie, you're getting as corny as Dad!"
At this, our eyes meet, and while taking turns expressing fond memories of The King of —because in this way the spirit of a loved one is conjured back to life—we're still chuckling as one funny story leads to the next.  Then, while swinging the afternoon away, Mom and I enjoy a brief, peaceful pause in which each of us gets lost in our own thoughts.
As I glance up at the top of this mountain, which Dad had climbed, I picture him leading his grandchildren, just like the Pied Piper, toward the heights of his love of nature.  And while reminiscing, quietly, I consider the loving relationship my  high spirited father had developed, so naturally, with each one. Whenever my gaze wanders up above the mountaintop and into the azure sky, which Dad had often professed to love, I see my father's beloved face, covering the expanse of that sky, smiling down at me with sheer delight, as had been his habit whenever he and I had swung, side by side, engaging in conversation on this very swing.  At some point, Mom breaks into my reverie by asking for more insight into my passion for analytic philosophy, which proves classic, universal, and timeless.
"Sooo, Annie—what did you mean when you said life is fluid?

No comments:

Post a Comment