My son,
As six summers of your life passed before
my eyes, I realise I have nor more than twelve more summers to have you by my
side. I have watched you with wonder as your sweet cherubic face turned to one of mischief and now I stand aside while incredulity strikes me as I see you
turning right before my eyes, to that serious man you will one day become. Those
days are alarmingly close and each step you take is step away from me. For I am
but a mother, who loves you dearly, but I am human too and my selfish love
wants you with me for all time, to love, to cherish, to guide, to hold and to
protect from a world that can hurt you and tear you apart.
How pompous I was when you were born… I told
myself I will step aside muttering the
words of Kahlil Gibran meaning to give you the space to be the man you choose
to be. I cannot make you believe in the ideals I uphold, though I am already
doing it. I have made decisions for you on your behalf in hope you will uphold
them as yours. I have chosen the religion you are to learn as your first, the
meals you are to have, the race and nationality. I choose the books that you
read so that you can live in a magical world where the hundred acre wood is a
reality, have tea parties with mad hatters, enter Narnia through a wardrobe and
have wizardry duels. I want you to walk on that yellow brick road, and see the
ring that rules them all. I want to you to see the world through the eyes of
literature from beginning enjoy those super heroes, super villains but also see
the realities of our world in its white, black and grey reality. I have
instilled you the need for compassion, tolerance and confidence to follow what
is deemed ‘right’. I have taught you the need to respect the wishes of others
as much as fight for the values you uphold. I want you to be independent, to
love your women despite their quirks, always open doors for them and treat them the
way they want you to.
Yet, I worry. Worry as mothers do, even
those pompous ones who feel they are above all. What if you feel compassion is
worthless in the cut throat world we live in? What if you feel that those who
are tolerant are the ones who are last in the food chain? What if you disrespect
man, woman, child and animal? What if
everything I felt was right is wrong to you and you disregard and reject them all. What if you reject the right of people to choose what they
want to be and who they love, even if it means that they reject what is yours? Will your confidence
crumble and will you be left alone in this world? Will you then turn in to an
angry man and turn into something … someone I cannot recognise? Will colour,
race, religion and money be more important to you my son than anything else?
Will you then sell your body and soul to the highest bidder for fame and
fortune? Will you shackle yourself in a system that gives you no freedom but to
agree… so that you can hold on to the things dear to you? Will you then remember
your mother and father? Most of all, will I remember that you are my son? Will I
be able to reconcile with all of that. I worry that I will I feel disappointed in the choices you make, in the achievements you could have grabbed and the fights you should have fought in and despair over those you choose to love and the clothes you care to wear? What sort of mother will I be then my son? A mother caught up in her own ideals, values, dreams and expectations. Not of her son's.
I think too much as I often do during these
long months. You are my first born. My life’s experience. Of course, you will
become what you are meant to be and I will always love you for what you are. The
world is a game that we play in, not unlike the video games you adore. You can
either play the game or take the cheat’s way or give up. You might even have it all. Your path is yours to
choose and mine is to watch and guide you when you ask for it. I will not wish
you the things I want for you and from you but have confidence in the choices you make for yourself. I will be happy for you no matter
what. And as your life takes precedence over ours and I have to step back and
watch you from a distance, think of your mother and father with a smile and know that we will always be there for you. In the end I wish for strength, courage, love and compassion... not for you my son, but for ourselves and those like us.
Love
Amma
On Children
Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
