This past week has been much like the last year of my life… full of wonder, full of awe, full of deep inner seeking and wisdom looking to surface and call to me. The challenge as this path expands day to day, breath to breath, is to return to my heart, my creative center and to ground deeply in a knowing that “every little thing’s gonna be alright”.
The calling this week came as my eldest child of three, Mukunda, at age six imbibed his twin, Curios George. While exploring a house of wonders he found a most interesting item. This item came in the form of a stair stepping exercise machine whose flywheel is used to create the air friction which creates a sense of pressure by which one pushes against the pedals likened to climbing stairs. After several pumps Mukunda noted the interesting spinning wheel and found the ideal finger hole to explore it more deeply. Unfortunately, such an action is not healthy for ones finger, which he realized immediately having drawn back a finger minus about one half of an inch.
Now, oddly… I want to acknowledge Mukunda’s way. I am deeply grateful at the curiosity of my son. I am deeply grateful for the exploratory and adventurous spirit he imbibes, and find myself in awe at the sprightly spirit that continues to flow as he moves on far quicker than any adult might under similar circumstances.
The fact is that there is blame, according to the culture of which surrounds me, to be placed on someone. I mean, it must be someone’s fault? Right? Where was I? Where were the people I left him with? What was he thinking! Why didn’t someone stop this tragedy!!! As I report the incident to some close relatives the air becomes thick like molasses as I tell the tale. You see! I knew you were doing stupid things as a parent!
Ok… sure, my lessons are present… but more than any material thing that no one could have done to change this anyway (it did happen didn’t it?), there is a deep calling here. What sort of calling am I speaking of? Well, the calling to be at peace in a world where chaos can wrap itself around us. The calling to return to the heart and wash through the pain and anger of these moments and well… the falling apart. The calling to recognize the failure and the humanity in all of this. The recognition that there is a higher plan here, for each of us and we have no way of knowing why this might have happened, or what it might mean for Mukunda and his life, or me and my life. What new doors are opening for him and potentially each of us as we embrace this experience, if we embrace this experience with new eyes.
I have been with Mukunda all evening. The first real time since he had a reconstructive surgery to cap off a missing bone and finger nail. In this eve I am feeling deeply grateful to be with him. Not because of what might of happened, or all the other things I publicly use to mask my personal exploration through it all, but because of the way he is being, with me and his sister in this space we have shared… in this little home of ours right now at this moment. Mukunda has spoken more gently with his sister, and he has been… hard to believe… even more loving with me than usual. He is grateful to be here. He is grateful and more happy and excited about life. Two days after the accident, as he never flinches or complains to us as he feeds himself, with his left hand (he is right handed), and writes and colors and builds his legos… he pushes on with such an amazing attitude. It is awesome, it is inspiring, it is a reminder of the innocence that he imbibes. I am grateful for him as my teacher… I have much to learn as I have watched him embrace his anguish, push through it and is simply living his life.
I seek to see his loss as a light, like a star on a distant horizon leading me to greater love of myself, my path and my own innocent truth that is my soul beneath the crust of my conditioned exterior.
