In a very very small handful of ways, I am no longer a child. Although, of course, when my mother refers to me in a conversation with some peer or other third party, I am indeed one of the children of whom she speaks. I have been for almost 40 years, and I suppose I always will be.
For almost 8 years now I have also been a parent. One of the greatest question marks floating over my head as a parent is in working out how much effort (if any) should be exerted in steering our children either towards, or away from, inheriting our own shortcomings, ... that in some way their lives might me enriched by either avoiding mistakes that we ourselves have made, or by sharing in successes that we ourselves have experienced.
Neither wanting them to become either carbon copies of ourselves, nor our alto egos – or arguably worse – so liberally minded that they have such an expanse of possibilities and freedoms that they are unable to focus and function in any structured mechanisms that might bring them fulfillment – I am currently dwelling on the following two helpful notions:
One, on the parental importance of helping to frame a child’s worldview. By this I mean trying to explain difficult and adverse situations, instead of removing them from them, or instead of shielding them from them, that as they grow they might have a healthy approach to building their own worldview frames.
And secondly, having wrestled with - and won over - some pretty pious teaching on the matter, on the beautiful realisation that we are all products of our parent’s inadequacies, idiosyncracies and coping strategies. And that this is not something to shy away from, mask, or be ashamed of, but something to be immensely proud of.
[1925:5723]
