The mind can be a greedy, little thing when looking to satisfy basic needs. Deprived of basic needs, watch us gallop toward gulping them down. Oxygen? Food? Water? Family? Sex? Companionship? Community? Productiveness? Relaxation? Entertainment? Excitement? Solitude? Soulmate? Peace of mind?
Though we hope basic needs will be fed at home, what if that's another myth passed down through generations until common sense, riding out on an insight into deeper truth, suggests that though we couple up for good reason, two people are not meant to fullfill each other's needs, forever—meaning that we are each responsible for figuring out how to fulfill needs emergent as a result of personal growth ... Hmmm ... I wonder why, upon awakening, this train of thought chose to cycle round inside my mind—though definitely not for the first time—today.
Perhaps insight into this deeper truth suggests my need to rebalance my sense of right and wrong at those times when my creative juices lean toward bending rules just enough so that all of my needs feel at least somewhat met while at the same time my think tank considers the needs of others, as well—and as this common sensical line of reasoning was spoon fed to my sons, their mindful connection to creative problem-solving techniques and generosity of spirit had sound reason to develop, early on.
This is not to say that conflicts did not arise between us, because life creates conflict at every turn ...
Today's post does not suggest that teen aged trouble, angst and defensive reactiveness never entered our front door.
What today's post suggests is that rather than fighting against each other's independent points of view until one won to the other's loss, we engaged in open-minded discussions until needs had been considered, all around. And as conflict is synonymous with family life, leadership chose to role model a conscious awareness of honoring open minded attitudes and personal needs, which differed from one's own by listening and speaking with attention to respect.
On the other hand—what happens when, feelings of failure shut down one need in favor of pandering to another? What is needed when we lose sight of need for balance? We need therapy. Or if not therapy, at least we need to look for closed mind sets that limit the spirit's need to explore a wider range of choices than ever before.
Each time I see only one choice, my spirit feels smothered by a 'should' that may have made sense once but somehow no longer does. Example: Children should be seen but not heard.
Though we hope basic needs will be fed at home, what if that's another myth passed down through generations until common sense, riding out on an insight into deeper truth, suggests that though we couple up for good reason, two people are not meant to fullfill each other's needs, forever—meaning that we are each responsible for figuring out how to fulfill needs emergent as a result of personal growth ... Hmmm ... I wonder why, upon awakening, this train of thought chose to cycle round inside my mind—though definitely not for the first time—today.
Perhaps insight into this deeper truth suggests my need to rebalance my sense of right and wrong at those times when my creative juices lean toward bending rules just enough so that all of my needs feel at least somewhat met while at the same time my think tank considers the needs of others, as well—and as this common sensical line of reasoning was spoon fed to my sons, their mindful connection to creative problem-solving techniques and generosity of spirit had sound reason to develop, early on.
This is not to say that conflicts did not arise between us, because life creates conflict at every turn ...
Today's post does not suggest that teen aged trouble, angst and defensive reactiveness never entered our front door.
What today's post suggests is that rather than fighting against each other's independent points of view until one won to the other's loss, we engaged in open-minded discussions until needs had been considered, all around. And as conflict is synonymous with family life, leadership chose to role model a conscious awareness of honoring open minded attitudes and personal needs, which differed from one's own by listening and speaking with attention to respect.
As respect was practiced by one and all, our home provided an emotional environment in which free flowing, independent trains of thought carved out creative solutions that considered the good health of spirits, all around. For example, let's get a bird's eye view of teen-aged Barry and forty-two year old Annie going toe to toe—not with each other but rather with common sense, consideration of others and generosity of spirit while discussing the possibility of Big Red undergoing plastic surgery ...
Mom steps up to the plate and takes a swing at the fast ball she's been pitched.
Barry, I can see why you're so excited about turning Big Red into a convertible.
Upon hearing this, Barry's body language tunes into Mom's reasoning, right off the bat.
I wonder if you've considered expense?
Once this question hangs in the air, a sudden slump in Barry's spirit is apparent.
Uhh ... No.
Seems to me that turning Big Red into a convertible would be expensive.
Uhh ... Yeah. Glittering excitement has visibly calmed down ...
Dad's history makes him cautious with money.
Another agreeable shake of my son's head.
Barry knows that while his dad was in high school grandpa died, and grandma, whose pride would take help from no one, worked four jobs to pay the bills. As memory, concerning this family story, emerges from my son's think tank, guess whose mindset expands to compare his dad's youth with his own?
Grandma didn't let Dad get a job, because she wanted him to concentrate on his studies just as he would have done if his dad had lived. And just as Grandma took care of Dad, we decided not to ask you to get a job to pay the added expense of insuring a teen-aged driver.
Once again, Barry's head shakes up and down, signaling his mind set aligned with mine.
The reason we have three cars and decided to pay for teen age insurance is so that your activities and responsibilities can begin to exist separately from mine. The fact that we have three cars points to responsiblity and privilege.
Now that my son's ability to hear me is grounded in common sense, I rattle off more of the same ... Dad got a new car. I got Dad's hand me down. You got Big Red. Neither you nor I are driving cars that we'd choose for ourselves. Big Red drives like a tank, protecting you on all sides. Big Red is too old to sink hard earned money into her. (No need to tell Barry that his father works long hours, sometimes seven days a week.) We choose to pay your insurance, because we value all of the responsible commitments you've taken on in terms of holding office in student government as well as on your youth group board. We can see all of the time and energy football demands, and with all of that on your plate, your grades are great ... Dad and I appreciate the fact that you take pride in all you do.
At this, Barry's mind and spirit offer me a smiling, Thanks, Mom
As to how our paraphrased discussion ended—I have no clue—All I know for certain is this fact: Good natured, common sense and respect allowed parent and child to reach the same conclusion concerning Big Red.
When my Dad heard we were paying for Barry's insurance, he offered this opinion: With your lifestyle, you'll not be able to teach your kids responsibility.
Though that challenge made me bristle, I smiled while expressing my reason for thinking otherwise; however, that story has naught to do with Big Red so let's save it for another day, when penning posts about kids and allowances feels ripe to pop out of my mind. As for tomorrow ... well, on to the demise of Big Red ...
Mom steps up to the plate and takes a swing at the fast ball she's been pitched.
Barry, I can see why you're so excited about turning Big Red into a convertible.
Upon hearing this, Barry's body language tunes into Mom's reasoning, right off the bat.
I wonder if you've considered expense?
Once this question hangs in the air, a sudden slump in Barry's spirit is apparent.
Uhh ... No.
Seems to me that turning Big Red into a convertible would be expensive.
Uhh ... Yeah. Glittering excitement has visibly calmed down ...
Dad's history makes him cautious with money.
Another agreeable shake of my son's head.
Barry knows that while his dad was in high school grandpa died, and grandma, whose pride would take help from no one, worked four jobs to pay the bills. As memory, concerning this family story, emerges from my son's think tank, guess whose mindset expands to compare his dad's youth with his own?
Grandma didn't let Dad get a job, because she wanted him to concentrate on his studies just as he would have done if his dad had lived. And just as Grandma took care of Dad, we decided not to ask you to get a job to pay the added expense of insuring a teen-aged driver.
Once again, Barry's head shakes up and down, signaling his mind set aligned with mine.
The reason we have three cars and decided to pay for teen age insurance is so that your activities and responsibilities can begin to exist separately from mine. The fact that we have three cars points to responsiblity and privilege.
Now that my son's ability to hear me is grounded in common sense, I rattle off more of the same ... Dad got a new car. I got Dad's hand me down. You got Big Red. Neither you nor I are driving cars that we'd choose for ourselves. Big Red drives like a tank, protecting you on all sides. Big Red is too old to sink hard earned money into her. (No need to tell Barry that his father works long hours, sometimes seven days a week.) We choose to pay your insurance, because we value all of the responsible commitments you've taken on in terms of holding office in student government as well as on your youth group board. We can see all of the time and energy football demands, and with all of that on your plate, your grades are great ... Dad and I appreciate the fact that you take pride in all you do.
At this, Barry's mind and spirit offer me a smiling, Thanks, Mom
As to how our paraphrased discussion ended—I have no clue—All I know for certain is this fact: Good natured, common sense and respect allowed parent and child to reach the same conclusion concerning Big Red.
When my Dad heard we were paying for Barry's insurance, he offered this opinion: With your lifestyle, you'll not be able to teach your kids responsibility.
Though that challenge made me bristle, I smiled while expressing my reason for thinking otherwise; however, that story has naught to do with Big Red so let's save it for another day, when penning posts about kids and allowances feels ripe to pop out of my mind. As for tomorrow ... well, on to the demise of Big Red ...
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