From Running With The Wolves to Holding Them At Bay...

What is a father?

Part of being a father, for me, is knowing where to draw boundaries. 

Boundaries for Corrina, but more importantly, boundaries for myself. Because so much of her development is influenced by what I model with my own behavior. What I reverberate, she picks up and learns to transmit. 

Shadow included. (gulp)

The rate at which a person can mature is directly proportional to the embarrassment he can tolerate. ~Douglas Engelbart

Now, there’s a part of me will always be a 22 year old. Like Huck Finn on Dead Tour, deep down, I’ll always have a desire to hit the road and explore the world. Especially with friends.

Last weekend, Corrina & I went camping in Ithaca (rated one of the top 10 places in the world to drop out of “society” by Outsider magazine). It was perfect weather, and we were totally in the flow - the kind of flow that only happens on road trips!

My friend Teresa and her daughter Corina shared the adventure with us.  We made a weekend of waterfall walking, gourmet hippie cuisine - it’s great to see the girls trying things they’ve never had before, and loving them! -  swimming, blackberry picking, hiking, crystals & best friend pendants and a dozen silver dollar sized, vegan pancakes down by the river with baby ducks to feed... it was heaven.

A strong man and a waterfall always channel their own path. ~Anonymous

The waterfall walking was, by far, my favorite part. The 3/4 mile hike through the gorge is magnificent. Shale walls forever crumble inward toward the limestone creek-bed. All along the way there were small waterfalls where the girls would wash and “recharge” their new amethyst crystals - a gift from Teresa.

We reached Toughanock Falls at dusk, after everyone else had shied away. 

A “Do Not Enter” sign hung from the foot-bridge 50 yards from the plummeting water. 

We decided to brave it, taking responsibility for our choices. 

Corrina and I often talk about the paradoxical “Circle of Freedom and Responsibility” and how making good choices, even when difficult, will get her more freedom - with me, and in life.

I hung back with the girls, while Teresa ventured right up to the 200-foot falls with the kids’ crystals - named Shimmer & Shine - in her pocket. She came back drenched! We all had a good time. 

The next day, leaving town, we stopped by the lower falls. A few brave souls were leaping from the 30-35 foot drop of limestone. I got it in my mind to try that. 

“Don’t Die Wondering" has been my motto for some time, now. And it's served me well... to a point.

Naturally, Corrina protested. I told her I ‘heard’ her and motioned to move on with our adventure. We skipped some excellent shale stones on the shore as the jumpers waded to our end of the pool to exit. Corrina reiterated her fear and I hugged her and told her I heard her. Of course, I’m not all punch and pie... the third or fourth time she brought it up I shut her down, told her I had heard her and that I would get angry if she brought it up again.

What is uttered from the heart alone, Will win the hearts of others to your own. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 

We all got in the water - fully clothed - planning to change back at the car. I decided I was gonna teach Corrina a lesson in physics (there’s magic in ledge-jumping... you land further forward than your mind can project since you aren’t used to the additional 20-30 feet of drop) and in “feeling the fear and doing it anyway.” 

Since it was right there in front of me I began my ascent, climbing up the pile of falling water over majestic, mossy boulders of the lower falls. Every step and finger-hold was blessed by some magical intuition that I wouldn’t fall and die (this was a harrowing mindfulness practice).

At the top I thanked the terra firma and reflected on the day prior, where we had followed the riverbed to the source. I thought about my Source, and I thought about my death. Jumping from heights is not something I do often. Ever, really. Not once, actually, have I ever jumped from heights above 6-7 feet. 

In fact, I’m terrified of heights. Not fear that I will fall... but that I will jump. So this seemed like the right thing to do. Face my death. Cuz I’m a spiritual warrior... and shit...

An error doesn't become a mistake until you refuse to correct it. ~JFK

So, I peered over the edge of the drop-off. The girls were on the shore opposite me, camera in hand. I turned to the source and I closed my eyes, stood tall, stretching in the sun, and considered the man I’ve been up to that point. Then I felt into my back-body and I thought of my impending “death” and the man I would be, walking up onto that shore. Proving to my frightened little girl that I’m a man, I tackle challenges like they’re munchkins, or face a part of myself that other kids’ fathers won’t face... I wondered what new pattern this would kick-off for me as a father, as a man. It got me pumped, so I turned to face death.

I walked down to the place everyone had jumped from, and peered over the edge looking for the right place to land. Corrina had turned away. She sat sulking on a stone, facing the other direction. It made me sad that she might miss my moment of raging glory, tearing through the veil of fear, seeing into the heart of my own masculinity... 

Taking some practice steps I got a feel for the leaping energy I would have to push with when I left the rock ledge to pencil dive into the bardo, only to arise, baptized into some new life. Honestly, I live for this. If I don’t have a breakthrough experience a few times a year I go stir-crazy inside my soul.

So, there it was... my moment of departure. Camera girl giving me a thumbs up. Teresa arrived from below to see me off. I rocked back and forth, dialing up my adrenaline, revving my testosterone, thinking how smart I was for not just exploding my circuits, but workin up to it...

And there’s Corrina looking up at me, shoulders slumped forward, pouty lips and a fluttering heart...

Everything was lined up. My trajectory was plotted. I was tuning into my intuition, feeling whether I needed to be cocked a little more this way or that... I was just gonna trust it. Trust myself. When I felt like it was right, I’d let my gut carry me into the fleeting moment of abyss, sweep me into my next life-time. My next incarnation...

And Corrina.

Thoughts bucked through my mind. “It’s scary, yes, but I know I can push myself through my fear.” “I can always come back and do it with my buddies.” “If I don’t do this, what will it say about me?” “No, I have to do it! I said I was gonna do it, and here I go... dammit!”

I felt into my heart. My intuition slowed me down. I followed it. I did what I felt. 

I sat down.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with those who are reckless with yours. ~Mary Schmich

After a few minutes Teresa sits next to me and, like the incredibly powerful woman she is, puts words to what I’m realizing for the first time in my life. By letting Corrina know her heart is more important to me than my transient adventures and epiphanies, however spiritual they may seem, I’m setting a pattern in motion in her that will alter the course of her life.

And mine. 

When I got to the bottom of the rock formation Corrina was waiting for me on the other side of the stream. 

We met in the middle and she held me in an extra-long, extra-silent hug.

The man I became... was not the man I had expected. 

Follow the child. ~Maria Montessori

I’m so grateful or these teaching moments. Children have a way of teaching that eludes me, until it’s upon me. My own Circle of Freedom and Responsibility got turned on its head. 

I didn’t know what to do, so I wrote this post to share.

Actually, finishing up this post a week later, I’m still a bit shaken up by the experience. If you know the feeling, please chime in. I could really use the support... as I’m sure we all could.

To Your Enlightenment Experience!

Craig

Creator EnlightenedChild.com

Be sure to join our Facebook Fan Page as well!

~

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Recovering the Soul of the Adopted Child

I was adopted. At birth.

By all accounts, my life could not have been more fortunate.

I was afforded every advantage.

Yet, by in large, I was mis-er-a-ble.

"Your children are not your children...

You may house their bodies but not their souls" ~Gibran

My folks are amazing people. They've built a life of affluence from very modest upbringings. They've traveled the world many times over and quenched their appetites for all things refined and cultured. I've watched their circle of friends share and support one another in this very boomer endeavor, and I've benefited from the cultural literacy and business acumen of this consciously cultivated extended family.

What has most impressed me about my parents is the way they've developed their marriage, and continue to deepen it to this day, after nearly 45 years together.

I would never say I resented them for adopting me. Certainly, this makes no "logical" sense. But there has always been something missing. Something all this external blessing could never ameliorate.

I have deeply resented being adopted.

Why? Even writing this feels like a knife twisting in my solar plexus. How rude of me! How ungrateful! What a spoiled brat I must be!

"Adoptees are not grateful, they are grieving..." ~Verrier

Several years ago my godfather passed along one of the most illuminating books I've ever read: The Primal Wound: Understanding the Adopted Child by Nancy Newton Verrier.

Essentially, this book explains that adopted children experience a profound psychic-emotional wound that a.) goes totally unaddressed by society - families included - and b.) creates a "false self" that the adopted child puts on in order to protect from being rejected and abandoned again... particularly because the deeply wounded, deeply grieving authentic self inside is not accepted, or even acknowledged.

This primal wound causes a tremendous amount of pain and suffering in the adopted child. A loss no less painful than that felt by the spouse and children of a loved one who dies unexpectedly.

The difference is that, in any other experience of trauma or loss, our society accepts and acknowledges this grief, and encourages a period of deep grieving for the loss of the loved one, or in the case of abuse or rape, the loss of self that has been ripped away and wounded.

"Grief is the gateway to all other emotions." ~Bly

The adopted child's wound is characterized by "premature ego death" and the very authentic grief that wells up beneath the surface, just like all that toxic oil billowing into the Gulf of Mexico from the BP oil wreck.

It's a mess that nobody wants to have to deal with. Least of all adoptive parents who most likely have never grieved their own loss due to their inability to birth their own biological children.

It's a big game of make-believe fantasy-family-land at some level. I'm sure it varies by degrees in each family, particularly in more recent times as adoptions are becoming more open, and parents more enlightened about what being adopted means.

"Cry, baby, cry..." ~Beatles

I know, with my own daughter, when she cries for mama at inconvenient times - like bed-time - that if I just stop myself from trying to reprimand, shame or otherwise convince her out of her feelings, hold her and acknowledge her sadness, she is able to cry it out. The tears run their course quickly and it's only a moment before she's kissing me goodnight - feeling seen, held, and okay just the way she is.

Simply learning about this has given me permission to accept and acknowledge my own deep grief. By owning this grief and beginning the process of feeling it, consciously, for the first time in my life, I have experienced a tremendous amount of healing - more than I can possibly express with words. I've begun recovering my soul.

This grief, I've learned, comes not only from the loss of connection with my birth mother after 9 months of hangin out together like BFF's, but also from the lack of mirroring for my soul growing up.

Now that I, myself, am a father I can clearly feel the difference between the way I know my daughter and the way my folks know me. Sure, they could sense that I was sensitive, intelligent, artistic and creative in general. And they sent me to all sorts of great camps and lessons for art and guitar and science...

 "Teach your children well, their father's hell did slowly go by..." ~CSN&Y

But when I look at my daughter, I know in a quantum flash precisely what just went through her mind. I can sense what multi-generational karmic chord is vibrating in her, and how to help her get aligned with the process of healing that karma she's inherited from me... or celebrate the brilliance of her soul that only a biological parent can recognize, because it's been directly imparted from a very intimate part of my own soul.

I longed for that kind of connection all through my adolescence and early adult-hood. Instead I felt projected upon, or completely unseen for who I was. This all happened at an unconscious level, and only served to deepen the wound, the grief of abandonment, the resentment and self-doubt that lies at the core of nearly all adopted children.

"You may give them your love, but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts." ~Gibran

It didn't help that I had no language for expressing my deepest self. It didn't help that I had no map of the possible forms or dimensions of expression available to me. I was expected to model the staunch, entrenched attitudes and values of my war-generation parents, even though I'm a child of the 70's, born of parents a decade younger than the ones who adopted me. It was a poor fit on many subtle levels, and I've suffered in the deepest recesses of my soul... with no ability to explain how I felt, and no moral grounds for justifying this grief and resentment.

In the following blog posts, I will share more of my journey of awakening, and how I found a collection of tools (which have become the basis for Enlightened Child) that ultimately provided me with a mirror for my deep, authentic self. The one I was born with, before the "premature ego death" and construction of a false self.

"The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are." ~Campbell

The work of self-discovery... self-excavation, really, is not only a fascinating story, it's also incredibly instructive for anyone on the path of self-mastery and awakening.

And if you're adopted, or raise adopted children, it's my heart's prayer that you will learn to connect with the deep, authentic self that lies at the heart of every adopted child.

Here's a link to The Primal Wound: Understanding the Adopted Child - please read it, or pass it on to those you know who are interested in the experience of adopted children, and their path to wholeness.

To Your Enlightenment Experience!

Craig
Creator EnlightenedChild.com
Be sure to join our Facebook Fan Page as well!

~

Kahlil Gibran ~ On Children

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.





To Your Enlightenment Experience!
Craig
Creator EnlightenedChild.com
Be sure to join our Facebook Fan Page as well!

What's Real & What's Imaginary?

What do you do with a Pisces child?

They're so deliciously dreamy, and yet, as a father I feel it's important to help my daughter make distinctions between what's really real (like objectively existent) and what's imaginary.

When she was 3, 4, 5 years old we played "Dragons" all the time. They were as real as anything in her world. 

About 6 months ago she called me up because Jeni  finally leveled with her about the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny and good old Santa Claus. She had just lost a tooth and was curious, as kids inevitably get.

I did my best to explain that when she was a little kid she believed in the dragons, but now she knows they're not real. Still, it's fun to pretend. Same with these other imaginary beings.

We talked about her little cousin who would call you a liar to your face if you told her Santa Claus isn't real. And how as she grows up she'll go through a period where she "knows" the truth, but still lets her emotional attachment to the imaginary rule her mind. And that it's totally okay.

What's important, I explained, is to "just notice" when she's believing in something imaginary, and when she's dealing with something really real.

Lately, Corrina has been telling "stories" about things that seem perfectly reasonable to a kid, and probably correlate with very vivid imagery in her incredibly imaginative Pisces mind. When I ask her if these things really happened she snaps back, "oh yeah, I saw it on YouTube," or, "oh, well my friend told me, and I trust my friends." Sometimes I get aggravated, but I know it's part of growing up.

Again, as her father, I feel responsible for helping her start to "just notice" when something is really real, and when it's part of her imagination only... or when it's a little of both. I know I was gullible to things my friends said well into high-school.

So, we talked about the difference between dragons and dogs. Between Santa and something you can take a video or picture of. And we talked about how sometimes something starts out being real, and we remember it just like we took a video of it, but then our minds start to make up things that didn't really, actually happen.

She seemed to understand. I mean, I don't want to shame her for it. It's natural. And it's also natural that she grow out of this eventually. 

The Enlightened Child piece in this is letting Corrina know that it's okay. Every kid goes through it. And that it's a process. When she was a little kid, like her cousin, she fully believed all this fantasy stuff was real. Even though I knew it wasn't I let her revel in it because I understood where she was at developmentally. And I explain that she's not ready to entirely let go of Santa Claus. Even though she knows he's not "really real" a part of her wants to go with it for a few more years.

Rather than asking her to grow up all at once, or simply waiting until she does, I'm inviting her to "just notice" what's real and what's imaginary. Planting the seed and nurturing her ability to make that distinction, so that over the next several years she will become clear on what's really real, what's just in her imagination, and how each of these is important, valuable, and useful.

She is, after all, a Pisces. Her imagination is one of her greatest strengths. So I want her to learn to use it, rather than leave it under-developed and susceptible.

I'd love to hear from you if you have any similar experiences, questions or wisdom to share.


To Your Enlightenment Experience!

Craig
Creator
EnlightenedChild.com

Be sure to join our Facebook Fan Page as well!

~

Who's Your Daddy?

With Father's Day rolling up this Sunday, one of my men's groups invited me to share some of the experiences I was blessed with this past weekend.

What did I experience? I "Reclaimed my Teenage Fire"... or rather discovered that I had never lost it.

It took some powerful workshop exercises led by teams of some truly incredible young men (JourneyMen) and their mentors to fully realize that truth. This post is a reflection on what I've come to understand after completing the workshop this past weekend.

The RTF training is actually a mentor training for the Boys to Men network. You can read more about the tradition of masculine initiation by clicking here.

Here's a picture of the JourneyMen...



What did I learn about myself and the world this weekend?

1.) By hearing the stories of other men and what their lives were like back in their teen years I really came to understand how hard life has been for many men. That kid who I thought was really popular, or was a real jerk to me at school, for instance, might have been living a nightmare at home. How could I have known? This weekend gave me that perspective and it was very healing for me.

2.) Being adopted is hard, but nothing compared to what some of these other men have been through with death after death in the family, the psychological fall-out of their own uninitiated fathers, the brutality, the abuse, the abandonment, the unloving, uncaring, dis-interested lack of presence... I really came to appreciate my own father with a profound depth.

3.) I realized that growing up we all feel lack of love and being seen. We all feel slighted in some way, and we all have our crosses to bear... including my own father - both my biological father, and my adoptive father. At one point I broke down in tears of gratitude for how much love I feel, that I didn't even know because I have been holding onto the grievances from childhood. Somehow I must find a way to express that to my father... that I appreciate him for everything he is, and while he's not perfect, he certainly held a lot of the cruelty in the world at bay for me. That alone is a magnificent gift, and one I can never be too grateful for.

4.) I realized what an incredible father I am for my own child. It's amazing to see how far we have come in just 3 generations. Men have really opened up in the past several decades, and the macho jerk is no longer the ideal. Tender caring and nurturing masculine energy are so much more accepted, and the young men on this weekend are an incredible example of how powerful a healthy male presence in a young man's life can be.

5.) And at the same time, I am humbled by the faults and failures I can't even see that I'm sure Corrina will have to forgive me for some day. I better start a therapy account right next to her college account. I'm sure she'll have plenty to process that I don't even realize I'm giving her cause for. Still, I resolve from all this to grow and move forward from where I am, not where I wish I could be. All I can do is be the best dad I know how with the resources available to me. It's a constant learning process.

6.) Lastly, as I mentioned, I went through a process led by an 18 year old Journeyman whose father is a dear friend of mine through MKP.

Shawn & Mike Fallon... (and Andrew Corey ;-)




Together they helped bring the Boys to Men training to Upstate, NY and the East Coast. He had me reflect on a picture of myself from a time in my younger life when I felt like I was really on top of the world. Reflect on my "fall from grace" and reclaim my teenage fire... Well, after several minutes into the process he turned to me and said, "I mean, correct me if I'm wrong here, but I just want to tell you that from my perspective, you've never lost your fire. It's burning so brightly in you... you're the kind of man I want to become!"

Well, I felt such relief and elation. I turned to him and accepted the candle that represented that fire, and I told him that I simply needed to be seen for that. It was so simple, so complete... I can't express what it did for me in words, though.

Here's the picture, and the candle...



All this I share with you a few days before Father's Day to say: Reflect on how much your father has given you IN SPITE of all he's been through. He probably had to figure it all out for himself. This type of mentoring didn't exist, and even today, many boys, men and fathers will walk the long, lonely path to their grave without the support and nurturing energy of a healthy masculine presence.

Be grateful for your father, and for any mentoring you have received. Reach out to these men, and let them know you have felt the impact of their care for you in your life. If you have the ability, let them know how you have taken their foundational presence and built upon that to be an even stronger, even more conscious man... and invite them to open up to you in a deeper way. They need you as much as you have needed them. This world is full of so much pain and suffering, when it comes down to it all we have is one another and the ability to connect through our tears, and our joy.

This Father's Day I will be reflecting on my weekend past, and finding a way to bridge the gap between my own father and me. I encourage you to do the same.

Here's a song they played on the weekend. I remember sitting in my dad's car hearing this song on the radio as a teenager and feeling not a little uncomfortable. Without weekends like this I don't know if I could allow the meaning of this song to every reach my heart. Enjoy!

Cheers,

Craig

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