3 Years a Father

“We are all just walking each other home.”  – Ram Dass.

Is there anyone we are privileged to closely walk home, more than our offspring? True as that might be, we end up being the ones who are walked home by them if we allow ourselves to, metaphorically through our lifetime. It is the same with learning. I became a father three years ago, confidently knowing that I was getting a chance to teach and mold. Kamande the potter. How stupid. How egotistical. I still feel the same way, by default, but I am more aware of the fact that the inverse is happening. Do not get me wrong, it is still a parent’s responsibility to nurture, educate, correct, but it is not as one way of a street as I always narrowly imagined. I am tempted to put it into probabilities, but it is hard to measure. And we need not always try to be empirical with philosophy, ama?

You see, beyond learning how limitless the well of love runs, our children teach us every passing minute we are with them, if we pay attention. I like to think of an examined life as a journey towards our inner child; towards the biblical garden of eden before man’s fall from grace. “Let the children come to me”, Jesus said. There is nothing at the end of that journey, but the practices that get us there help us get close to the bone of life. If we assume that is true, then what better way to map that journey than by learning from the children themselves?

My son (And Kigondu’s godson) turned 3 years old in March. Kigondu and I turn 33 Years old in August. There might be nothing to it, but there is a numerical pattern that is evident here with our DoEs (Days on earth).  And so, I thought I would document 3 things my son has taught me / practically reinforced over the 3 year journey, at 33. It is also a documentation of the lessons, as I immerse myself into bringing up the second offspring.

Got it. Lost it. Every moment. Over and over again.

Allan Watts

Participation without attachment

This is, perhaps, one of the toughest things to do, given our human proclivity to base all material and immaterial relationships on attachment. Even love. In his book, Awareness, Fr. Anthony DeMello says that attachment reduces our capacity to love. Integration of this into our lives, for all the great things it yields, is hard. However, I have seen my son fully indulge in an activity, and then move on to another a few minutes later. What is astounding is that you can see the transition to the next thing with zero attachment to the preceding thing. You might argue that his prefrontal cortex is not fully formed, for another 22 years, but by god, what a joy it is, for him to fully detach and move about life while fully participating in the present! He is neither plagued by the past, nor pre-occupied by the future. Is that not the theoretical antidote to depression and anxiety? And overall, Dukkha?

The same happens with his emotions. He does not postpone feeling them, whether they are positive or negative. He cries or laughs his heart out with no attempt to feign strength (WTH is that, anyway?), and then moves on. In addition, he does not allow those feelings, especially the negative ones, to become a mood. In fact, it is my wife and I who refuse to move on in a bid to teach him a lesson, in the many events when we say no to something he really wanted but we know from our experience is not good for him, or when he is being naughty.

We can be more patient than we imagine

“And don’t you live life in a rush

The past cannot be returned to

And when you feel like giving up

Remember patience is a virtue ..”  – Damian Marley. Stony Hill. So a child may follow. 2017.

I cannot say that I was overly impatient but whatever level of patience I had, has been tested more than ever before since I became a father. I think all parents can attest to this. I remember early on, at 3:43 AM, wondering if this is how the next few years would be. And then wondering the same thing at 4:24 AM, when we thought he was finally asleep only to hear him whimper and build up to a now dreaded crescendo. At that time of the night, when you have tried everything in the book to get them to sleep so you can catch an ounce of sleep yourself to function better at work the next day, the upsides of this parenting journey are maybe harder to appreciate – unless you have trained yourself to do so. It is easier to react, and overriding this behavior is something I have had to train myself to do. I will not say that I have mastered it, but here are somethings I wrote down as reminders to fortify my patience:

  • They are not doing this to spite you. It is not malicious.
  • It is your duty. You chose it [or not], and you are here now. Do it. “Don’t be overheard complaining…even to yourself” (Marcus Aurelius)
  • You have had and will hopefully have many more nights of uninterrupted sleep. This is temporal.
  • Use this as a training ground for patience with everything else – if you can do this patiently, then you can be patient with most things in life!
  • You are not the first to be going through whatever difficulties you’re currently facing, nor will you be the last.
  • It is your duty!

The reps from those nights and the self talk, have gone a long way in building patience in other scenarios that require it even more in parenting. From the proverbial terrible-two unpredictable phase in development, to breaking down why some things have to be one way and not another sometimes [Baba has to get on this call – we will resume playing later. You cannot continue watching Peppa Pig because it’s nap time. Mama has to go to work. You cannot have chewing gum at 7:08 AM.]

Every moment is special. Be here, now.

‘If it can happen to anyone, it can happen to you.’

Got it. Lost it. Every moment. Over and over again. That is life. And yet, we remain uncertain of getting the next moment. As Seneca writes, “Moments are torn from us. The whole future lies in uncertainty.”. Somewhere at the back of my mind, this always reverberates – maybe it does for all of us, because we say it casually during conversations; or when someone we know dies. 

“Life ni fupi!”

“Eh. Sana”

“Noma, buda!”

But now, it is a practical reminder to cherish every moment, especially with my son. This is not an entirely selfless endeavor, but it is also driven by (and can yield more) loving awareness. It is a source of joy for me, irrespective of the circumstances, and he also seems to revel so much in every moment we are together, and that compounds the joy for me. He is so deeply immersed in our play, as if it were his last. That is what children do. They are naturally enlightened, until the world changes that. On my part, I am aware that this could well be our last interaction, and I want it to be filled with loving awareness, in case it is the last; and I got it then lost it. I might not get the next one, but I sure hope I do – For THEM.