A Letter to my son

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.