The Parallel Parliament

by Glen Pearson

Tag: learning

Summer’s Hidden Messages

As we move into the dog days of August we are mindful that summer is moving towards the exit and we long for it to tarry just a while longer. It’s like an old acquaintance we haven’t seen for a year but with whom we can pick things up naturally where we left off.

It’s a season for the young, with its tans, endless round of activities, the food, drink, and the partying. But it is perhaps the most poignant time of year for those who reflect and “feel” the intimacies of life – like author Tony Morrison when she noted, “I have only to break into the tightness of a strawberry, and I see summer.” Something about that kind of intuitiveness is best felt in the long days of the season.

I have encountered many this summer who seem different than they were only a few short months ago. One woman who lost her husband to cancer and was battling on the front lines of grief told me that she has felt a sense of release in the warmth of the sun’s rays, the gentle rains, her abundant garden, and the quiet evenings when memories return of walking the neighbourhood hand in hand with the love of her life. “Grief hasn’t left,” she told me over coffee, “but what we had together becomes more meaningful as the sun brings a kind of healing.” As beautiful as that reflection is, it is being felt repeatedly by thousands in our city. It’s not so much a promise of new life but the deeper meaning of the old one that makes summer so restorative.

For many, of course, it is precisely the promise of newness that summer brings that makes this time of year a favourite. Along with the season comes that long-held belief that life can begin again, that something new can happen, and that our path may take a new direction. Why? Because summer brings with it, for many, a new sense of adventure in the midst of busy lives, or as Aimee Friedman once put it: “When people went on vacation, they shed their home skins, thought they could be a new person.”

For those of us who have lived some time on this earth there is a clear sense that life is moving increasingly into the fast lane. The sense of change is everywhere, but isn’t necessarily accompanied with an abiding sense of security. Time seems to pass like a movie seen in fast speed. Stress and an unknown future take their toll on everyone, regardless of their financial, social, emotional or physical state.

And then comes summer and the longer sun-kissed days fill us with equal measure of relaxation and resurgence of energies. The days settle lazily into to one another like there’s no big rush and we hearken back to those school days when summer never seemed to end and all we did was just live and explore.

As we grow older, the warmer seasons permit us the luxury of not having to meet the demands of everyone, of not always having to live up to the expectations of others. This is our limited time, our escape, away from all those responsibilities where we get the chance to watch flowers bloom, to read a book just for ourselves, to quietly retreat into that part of ourselves that we must preserve and deepen if we are to embrace the modern world once more with a sense of purpose and hope.

Something about the summer season makes us want to believe again – in romance, in the vital memory of those we have lost, in the renewing sense that the better angels of our nature have yet a role to play in our community and in our troubled world. Somehow, after the jumble of the past year, or years, summer give it all back to us with a semblance of order and purpose. To everything there is a season and right now it’s summer’s turn to shine. Our task is to let it do its healing and energizing work. The troubles and rigors of the world are still ahead of us but can only be overcome by a people who have permitted summer to provide its magical healing touch. And we must be at our most inspired, for great challenges lay ahead of us.

Read this post in its original London Free Press format here.

More Than DNA

Fathers-Day

“THE HEART OF A FATHER IS THE MASTERPIECE OF NATURE.” Really? Antoine Francois wrote that a long time ago, but I sense I have fallen far short of that kind of nobility of soul. Because fathers never stop learning, it is almost impossible to arrive at anything near a “masterpiece”. Fatherhood itself is a series of rites of passage – births, first days of school, graduation, marriages, grandkids – which, no matter how many times they are experienced, leaves one with the feeling that we never get it quite right.

Most people are cursed with the idea that if only they could acquire something externally that they would be better people. Extra money, a better job, more patience or kindness, a sense of purpose – these are the usual suspects rolled out as objects worth procuring if we are to be more complete as humans. Because children, as they mature, constantly press the boundaries of their respective worlds, fathers always have to respond to so many challenges over the years that it can easily leave one with the sense that they can never be good enough to be the “masterpiece” dad.

Fortunately, in the great Circle of Life, there is a remedy inherent with humanity that eventually exposes the fallacy of such thinking. Over the years we come to realize that the great virtues of personality are not something external for which to reach but impulses that reside within us that must emerge over time. The cure for our underperformance is already housed in the very desire we feel to be better fathers to our children. The great religious teachers, moralists, and philosophers have always shown the way on this but in the pressures of living they are lessons often overlooked or forgotten entirely. The belief that we are better than our performance would indicate is one of the great drivers in human progress – and in fatherhood.

In this is the great genius of life and guardianship. We don’t become better guides for our children in order that we might assist them through life. It is actually the opposite: their very presence in our lives is what makes us fit to supervise their journey into adulthood. Those who witnessed the life of Abraham Lincoln never comprehended the depths of his soul until they saw him rolling on the floor with his children. The tenderness of such moments transcended the pressures of leading in wartime and introduced the world to a man of vastly deep treasures of human compassion.

In a very real way it is our children, through the very experience of raising them, that make us fit to mentor them. Love is not only the greatest parenting strategy there is; it actually is the great former and shaper of the parents themselves. It is their children that call those deep resources within their moms and dads to live at such a level where love can be free to operate.

For this reason many of us will never get over our fathers. We were never meant to because we, as their children, had a hand in raising them, in broadening understanding, in deepening their hearts. God put children in our lives for that very reason. People don’t become perfect, then have kids. They are blessed with parenthood and then learn to fill that responsibility as the years progress.

With seven children blessing my life, it is likely that any real strength of character or compassion that I have shown was refined by their very presence in my life, gracing my years and making me a better person. For all my failures, I have succeeded when they have been free to shape me. And now that I have four grandchildren, it is likely that such a refinement will continue until my final breath.

At times I wonder what it must be like for my kids to have walked along with me in this life. How do they see me? For all the benefits they have brought to me, have I sufficiently helped in preparing them for the rigors of life? Do they see me as a companion or some kind of distant moral instructor? I would hope it is the former, because that is what I have desired most. I have always concurred with Martin Luther King’s great observation that, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” But that bending best happens in companionship and friendship, and I can only pray that my kids see me in such a light.

It is my ultimate hope that my relationship with my children is more than just about DNA. That’s a natural passing on of the building blocks of life. But the other stuff – the love, respect, gratitude, lessons learned, and just sheer companionship – is what I hope they can perceive. To a very large degree they raised me, protected me, drew out some of the better parts of me. On this Father’s Day I can only thank them for their ongoing love and faithfulness. I have become a better man for their very willingness to engage with me and point me in the direction of a better humanity. On this special day, if there is any gratitude to be expressed it is from one blessed father to his remarkable children.

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