chey being

Seeing what's inside again.


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Leave no trace behind?

My sons are Boy Scouts.  Actually, I am proud to say, my oldest just became an Eagle Scout.  One of the scout principles is, “Leave no trace.”  They are taught how to minimize damage to an area when camping and basically, how to leave everything as they found it.

When I heard this principle recently, I instantly connected it to the raising of my children. Everything we do affects their future.  How they will treat other people.  How they will treat their significant other.  How they will react in a crisis.  What they will believe in and not believe in.  I began to wonder, how much of ourselves should we instill into our children?

As my children grow, I see more and more of myself and their father in them.  My oldest has taken on my hypochondriac tendencies.  He also shares some of my OCD behavior as well.  All of my children tend to lean towards their father’s religious views.  One of my twins is a very independent thinker like myself.  He also shares my need for perfectionism.  Thankfully, they are all very affectionate like myself.  Some of their tendencies are biological, some are not.   Of course, I wish they never took on my negative traits; however, that aside, I think as parents we want them to be little mini mes.  Our egos want to feel like we will live on in someone else.  More importantly, our ego  wants someone to believe as we believe, because we think we are right.

As a child, I felt forced to believe in Christianity.  I was forced to sit at the table and speak in tongues in front of everyone.  It was traumatizing.  I had to listen to sermons that made me feel like a bad person if I sinned, or if I didn’t tithe.  I certainly do not want to get into a religious debate here, as that is not my point (Please no comments in regards to that.).  My point is that I was forced to believe a certain way.  I don’t want to force any belief on my children.  I want to show them everything and allow them to make a choice that feels “right” for them.

My father was told as a young boy, “You can be a FBI agent, or a garbage man.  It’s your choice.”  It wasn’t really a choice.  He was going to work for the FBI like his father and that was that.  And so he did.  He spent the majority of his life doing a job he never really enjoyed, just to please his father.  I used to try to gently sway my children into a career path that I felt would be good for them, until I realized, who the hell am I to direct anyone’s career path?  I’m still figuring it out myself!  I had my chance.  I decided to let them trace their own path.

I truly want my children to be so much more than me.  I want them to live without fear of failure.  I want my children to decide what religion to believe in, or not to believe in.  I will also not push them to be more than me.  Maybe that is not their path.  I will love them no matter the path they take or the person they come to be.  I don’t want to judge them because that is putting my mark on them.  That is me trying to control them.  And even though I really dislike my son’s blue hair.  I will learn to live it!

This is a tiny food for thought on a very broad subject.  My intention to anyone who reads this is to encourage thinking, just a little bit more, on how much of us we want to leave behind.

 

 

 

 

 

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This Is Only A Test – A Sestina (Time for Poetry Challenge)

DP Challenge – Time for Poetry

This Is Only A Test           

You have placed upon me the burden of guilt.

Like the mind of a child, you are unable to understand.

Sitting in your pew, beaten up in the name of God

the ordained old man regurgitating to his church

how to think, what to think.  Pulling

at your minds and hearts until you offer release.

 

As the sinner, I have begged for release

from your prison cell with bars made from guilt.

A bird on a tether is the image pulling

at my plight.  My words, clear to understand

bounce off you, unforgiving as the walls of your church.

Poisoned.  I do not believe in your God.

 

You preach of love and forgiveness.  God

you say, has sent his messenger to release

us of our sins.  Your sin practiced in your church.

Painted upon my chest.  You beat me with your guilt

like the messenger before those that did not understand.

I run, I wait for the gust, only to feel the pulling.

 

You say you love me.  The name of love is pulling

at my tether.  Vows can not be broken, so sayeth God

so sayeth you.  How do I make you understand?

Imprisoned.  Suffocating.  The scream needing release

or we will surely die together.  Playing your card of guilt

you do not care.  This is what you learn from your church?

 

Your mind is like the annual, watered by that church.

One purpose?  One way?  One life?  Something else is pulling

at me, always pulling…always pulling.  My soul, your guilt

both placed inside me.  One by my God, one by your God.

I let the bitterness of guilt rest on my tongue. I choose to release

all you and your kind brewed upon me.  Do you understand?

 

My words, my sadness, my sickness, simple to understand.

Clear for all to see, but you are blinded by your church.

Blinded by your short sightedness. If you should release

me, what would happen?  What do you fear?  Is your pulling

out of fear, out of commitment, ordered by your God?

What would be left if you dropped your arrows of guilt?

 

Guilt is your poison, I will no longer inject.  Understand

I believe in a God, the same as you and your church.

The same God that instills the Pulling, the same God that gives my Release.

 

Google definition of a Sestina:

ses·ti·na
noun: sestina; plural noun: sestinas

  1. 1.
    a poem with six stanzas of six lines and a final triplet, all stanzas having the same six words at the line-ends in six different sequences that follow a fixed pattern, and with all six words appearing in the closing three-line envoi.

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