This year's blog post is a little late. It has been busy between teaching, counseling, and family. You have been growing up so fast that it is hard to believe that you are the same little person that we brought home four years ago. Fireflies is the song that most reminds me of you this year, for a wide variety of reasons.
As you get older, the wonders of the world stop being wonderful. Even fireflies, which are amazing, are not magical any longer for most grown ups. They are just bugs that use bio luminescence to attract mates and prey. The more we learn the less we wonder, and you must never let those wonders escape. It's always a parent's struggle what to reveal and when-- the truth about glowing bugs, the truth about magic, or the truth about Santa Claus. Especially when the truth is that none of our brains can actually comprehend the smallest fraction of the totality of existence. We all color reality with our perceptions, and just how much of that shading we want to pass on to your unique perspective on reality is a difficult question to answer, though I will try to do that in some measure here.
My opinion is that we need to teach you enough to survive in the world, but that we must also temper this by trying to preserve the magic that adults lose sight of as much as possible. We need to remember that no matter how much we want to slow the world, that it will keep turning. You will grow up, no matter how much we would like it to slow down. The world will wait for no person-- no matter how special. We need to help you to both understand and believe, things that are sometimes antithetical.
My wish for you this birthday is that you manage to hang onto the best aspects of your childhood well into adulthood. That you can still feel that sense of magic and wonder, when it is appropriate. That your education does not dull your view of the world, and that some portion of the four year old that lives for hugs and snuggles will remain in you always-- even as you grow up and pursue your dream of making robots, or anything that you change your mind to do on some day after today. The world is full of endless possibilities for you, if you believe that it is so.
If you do maintain your desire to build robots, and turn a dream into a goal, I will someday educate you about terminators and Skynet. Humility and forethought in the pursuit of magic and knowledge is also important. Not today though. For today, I hope you are able to one day make your robots, and that they are kind and wonderful.
Saturday, April 16, 2016
Sunday, February 22, 2015
American Triangle (Elton John), I Hope The Russians Love Their Children Too (Sting), Everybody's Got A Story (Amanda Marshall)
Your third birthday is just around the corner, and it's time for another entry in my seldom used blog Connor. This year's entry is a lesson that I hope you don't need to learn for many more years, but it's one of the most important lessons that most people never come to understand. The lesson is that every person on earth is essentially the same. We want the same things, which often brings us into conflict. In order to make our conflict just, we need to find reason to fight. When you are confronted with warmongers and bullies who try to convince you that someone else is a "bad guy", remember that all human beings believe essentially the same things. Do not let them misrepresent other people enough to make them "the other". Ultimately, there is no reason whatsoever to hate other people, which is why we work so hard to find them.
Capitalists, communists, Canadians, Russians, Americans, Muslims and Christians all ultimately value and believe in the same things-- even though they strive to find differences. Children that are three years old don't see or understand these manufactured differences because they are far wiser than adults. Remember the wisdom of infancy when someone tries to turn you into a bully or worse, and reject the idea of difference.
When you understand this lesson, I hope that you will come to regard every other person in the world as your equal and place none above you on a pedestal. If you really, really master it, you will not even disdain those who disdain others. Instead, you will pity them. Not the pity that comes from superiority and condescension, but the genuine regret that you should feel for people who have lost an important part of themselves. Remember the small, wise, and perfect person that you are today and reject their foolish notions. I hope that you don't need to remember him because I hope that you never lose him.
Your third birthday is just around the corner, and it's time for another entry in my seldom used blog Connor. This year's entry is a lesson that I hope you don't need to learn for many more years, but it's one of the most important lessons that most people never come to understand. The lesson is that every person on earth is essentially the same. We want the same things, which often brings us into conflict. In order to make our conflict just, we need to find reason to fight. When you are confronted with warmongers and bullies who try to convince you that someone else is a "bad guy", remember that all human beings believe essentially the same things. Do not let them misrepresent other people enough to make them "the other". Ultimately, there is no reason whatsoever to hate other people, which is why we work so hard to find them.
Capitalists, communists, Canadians, Russians, Americans, Muslims and Christians all ultimately value and believe in the same things-- even though they strive to find differences. Children that are three years old don't see or understand these manufactured differences because they are far wiser than adults. Remember the wisdom of infancy when someone tries to turn you into a bully or worse, and reject the idea of difference.
When you understand this lesson, I hope that you will come to regard every other person in the world as your equal and place none above you on a pedestal. If you really, really master it, you will not even disdain those who disdain others. Instead, you will pity them. Not the pity that comes from superiority and condescension, but the genuine regret that you should feel for people who have lost an important part of themselves. Remember the small, wise, and perfect person that you are today and reject their foolish notions. I hope that you don't need to remember him because I hope that you never lose him.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Southern Cross
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cBsnopTVmo
It seems like yesterday that I wrote the first of these, but it's three hundred and sixty five yesterdays ago. Time and life fly past far too quickly. A great deal has happened over the past year. You started to walk and talk, and have created more miracles than I can recount here and now-- every day you transform into someone newer and more perfect.
One of these changes is that you have picked a new favorite song. Probably the greatest lesson that comes with this song-- although far from the only one-- is how you came to hear it the first time. I always liked the song, but it was never one that was a favorite. One morning, I was awake way too early-- working on a paper for my master's degree. As I did so, I turned on George Noory's Coast to Coast in the background. I have three reasons for listening to Coast to Coast:
1. It's the most interesting thing that's on at three in the morning.
2. I like listening to crazy theories and crazy people-- this show fits the bill.
3. My master's degree is in counselling, so the show assures me that I'll always have business when I finish up.
That day, George had interrupted his usual line up of people talking about UFO's and Bigfoot with a guy talking about doing dolphin rescues. It was a very interesting show. In any case, the news usually comes on between three and four. George cuts into the news with songs, and today he chose to use Southern Cross-- maybe because the nautical theme went along with his topic, or maybe because it's just a cool song.
The story that led the news that morning was possibly the saddest one that I've ever heard on the news. It was about a father whose son had been killed in a traffic accident. He described how good a boy his son was, and his final farewell-- kissing his face over and over. That day a young universe, full of potential was extinguished, and the world changed. In that tragic moment, I understood a parent's love for a child. I think about how valuable you are every time you hear that song, shake your head to the opening lyrics, and then dance.
People listen to George Noory because, deep in their souls, they want to believe that anything is possible. I don't need George Noory for that-- I listen to him purely for entertainment. I only need to look at my little, dancing, boy to know that anything is possible.
It seems like yesterday that I wrote the first of these, but it's three hundred and sixty five yesterdays ago. Time and life fly past far too quickly. A great deal has happened over the past year. You started to walk and talk, and have created more miracles than I can recount here and now-- every day you transform into someone newer and more perfect.
One of these changes is that you have picked a new favorite song. Probably the greatest lesson that comes with this song-- although far from the only one-- is how you came to hear it the first time. I always liked the song, but it was never one that was a favorite. One morning, I was awake way too early-- working on a paper for my master's degree. As I did so, I turned on George Noory's Coast to Coast in the background. I have three reasons for listening to Coast to Coast:
1. It's the most interesting thing that's on at three in the morning.
2. I like listening to crazy theories and crazy people-- this show fits the bill.
3. My master's degree is in counselling, so the show assures me that I'll always have business when I finish up.
That day, George had interrupted his usual line up of people talking about UFO's and Bigfoot with a guy talking about doing dolphin rescues. It was a very interesting show. In any case, the news usually comes on between three and four. George cuts into the news with songs, and today he chose to use Southern Cross-- maybe because the nautical theme went along with his topic, or maybe because it's just a cool song.
The story that led the news that morning was possibly the saddest one that I've ever heard on the news. It was about a father whose son had been killed in a traffic accident. He described how good a boy his son was, and his final farewell-- kissing his face over and over. That day a young universe, full of potential was extinguished, and the world changed. In that tragic moment, I understood a parent's love for a child. I think about how valuable you are every time you hear that song, shake your head to the opening lyrics, and then dance.
People listen to George Noory because, deep in their souls, they want to believe that anything is possible. I don't need George Noory for that-- I listen to him purely for entertainment. I only need to look at my little, dancing, boy to know that anything is possible.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Times Like These
The first song in the playlist that I made for you is "Times Like These" by the Foo Fighters. It is both significant and meaningful to me. For some reason, you gravitated to this song immediately; and every time that I play it, you stop fussing, stop playing, and listen. This baffles me for several reasons.
Though I had heard the song before and thought the lyrics and rhythm were beautiful, I did not have an extraordinary affinity for it-- probably because I had never really paid too much attention to it. That changed the day that you were born, however.
The day before you were born was trying and terrifying. I went to the gym early in the morning, only to return to find that your mother's water had broken two months early. The entire day rushed by between getting your mom to Kamloops hospital, returning home to gather a few things for her, returning home to get ready for work the next day, and then driving back the next morning because her labor had started.
For many parents, the experience of their child's birth is a joyous time, but yours was far more frightening than festive. I feared that you might not stay, or that you might not be perfect. Both of those fears proved to be unfounded, but they were very real at the time.
Early on the morning of your birth, I listened to the radio on the way in from Merritt. I happened to hear Foo Fighters "Times Like These", and something about it stuck. I was unable to get the song out of my head for some reason, and somehow connected the song with you and our experience in my mind. Somehow, you seem to have decided that it is your song. According to a Lakota Sioux medicine man, every person has a song that is just for them. If that is true, there is no doubt that this song is your song.
When you came, it changed the lives of the people around you. You are our light. This is your time. You taught us how to love again in a new and different way. You are our brand new sky, and you will realign the stars in that sky-- we know you will and that they will be dazzling. This song was written for you. It is your song. It is the most beautiful song in the world. Thank you for teaching us to live and love all over.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ksOjoA18sNk&list=PLC892BF17ECB2176E
Though I had heard the song before and thought the lyrics and rhythm were beautiful, I did not have an extraordinary affinity for it-- probably because I had never really paid too much attention to it. That changed the day that you were born, however.
The day before you were born was trying and terrifying. I went to the gym early in the morning, only to return to find that your mother's water had broken two months early. The entire day rushed by between getting your mom to Kamloops hospital, returning home to gather a few things for her, returning home to get ready for work the next day, and then driving back the next morning because her labor had started.
For many parents, the experience of their child's birth is a joyous time, but yours was far more frightening than festive. I feared that you might not stay, or that you might not be perfect. Both of those fears proved to be unfounded, but they were very real at the time.
Early on the morning of your birth, I listened to the radio on the way in from Merritt. I happened to hear Foo Fighters "Times Like These", and something about it stuck. I was unable to get the song out of my head for some reason, and somehow connected the song with you and our experience in my mind. Somehow, you seem to have decided that it is your song. According to a Lakota Sioux medicine man, every person has a song that is just for them. If that is true, there is no doubt that this song is your song.
When you came, it changed the lives of the people around you. You are our light. This is your time. You taught us how to love again in a new and different way. You are our brand new sky, and you will realign the stars in that sky-- we know you will and that they will be dazzling. This song was written for you. It is your song. It is the most beautiful song in the world. Thank you for teaching us to live and love all over.
Thirty Lessons For Connor
Tomorrow is your first birthday Connor. First birthdays are a time for parents more than for babies, but they are significant none the less. I decided a while ago to start a blog for you to tell you the stories that I feel are significant. The theme was one that I decided upon nearly a year ago, when I first brought you home. When you first got here, I used to have to rock you to keep you from crying and to give your mom a break. I always played music for you when we did this, and this blog will discuss the thirty songs that I chose to put into that playlist. Each of them was chosen for a significant reason, and this blog will explain the lesson that is inherent in each.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)