“Because children grow up, we think a child’s purpose is to grow up. But a child’s purpose is to be a child. Nature doesn’t disdain what lives only for a day. It pours the whole of itself into the each moment. We don’t value the lily less for not being made of flint and built to last. Life’s bounty is in its flow, later is too late. Where is the song when it’s been sung? The dance when it’s been danced? It’s only we humans who want to own the future, too. We persuade ourselves that the universe is modestly employed in unfolding our destination. We note the haphazard chaos of history by the day, by the hour, but there is something wrong with the picture. Where is the unity, the meaning, of nature’s highest creation? Surely those millions of little streams of accident and wilfulness have their correction in the vast underground river which, without a doubt, is carrying us to the place where we’re expected! But there is no such place, that’s why it’s called utopia. The death of a child has no more meaning than the death of armies, of nations. Was the child happy while he lived? That is a proper question, the only question. If we can’t arrange our own happiness, it’s a conceit beyond vulgarity to arrange the happiness of those who come after us.”
― Tom Stoppard,
I came home to see this.
Adi was slouching on the couch.
Drinking hot tea to sooth his throat.
Of all the diagnosis that Dr. Kumar (for the record: my husband isn’t a doctor, this is a title I have given him when he diagnosis problems) has made about me, the top diagnosis is #OCD.
Despite my #OCD-like symptoms which including furious cleaning and urging everybody in the house to be clean, Adi fell sick today.
Because of “sick” symptoms yesterday evening, he asked me to write a note yesterday night to his PE teacher to be excused from the mandatory 1 mile run today. I did write the note. But, given the trooper he is, he reported back today evening that he did not use the note. He ran and set a personal-record. Despite the sickness and a terrible headache.
As a parent, one of the the hardest things to watch is your child lying down on the couch with a fever.
All evening long, I am going to be singing Bharathiyar’s (one of my favorite Tamil poets) lines to Adi:
shaTru mukham shivandAl manadu sancalamAgudaDi
neTri shurungak-kaNDAl enakku nenjam padaikkudaDI
un kaNNil nIr vazhindAl ennenjil udiram koTTudaDi
en kaNNin pAvaiyenrO kaNNammA ennuyir ninradanrO
If your face turns to discomfort, even momentarily, my heart is disturbed
When I see your forehead wrinkle, my heart flutters with fear
If I even see small droplets of tears in your eyes, a whole river of blood flows in my heart
(because) You’re the light of my eyes, my life is yours
Here is the full song
“Children are made readers on the laps of their parents.” — Emilie Buchwald
Adi is always ahead of me. ALWAYS.
Here are the questions that I had to field in today’s Ambal-Adi summer 2013 bootcamp.
What is the truth?
Does life exist after death?
Are we alone on this solar system?
Are we just energy sources?
Is this all a dream?
What is the meaning of life?
What is the Karma Yoga you are always telling me about?
I see…there are other Yogas – Bhakti yoga, Jnana yoga
Does God exist?
History of religions?
Are we in a dream?
It is all your perception, mom, really?
It is all in the mind, is it?
Does free-will exist?
Is everything predestined?
Why do you perceive purple during meditation?
Really, You and I might have energy and light transfer..and perhaps nothing else, really?
How do I feed his curiosity?
Seriously, how do I?
I don’t have answers…just more questions for him.
I told him what I always tell myself “Be open to all ideas. Be open to every thought. But, also be skeptical. Don’t accept anything as true. Look for what is not obvious. Keep seeking.”
I felt the urge to discuss Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle with him.
But, that has to wait until later.