Do not listen to all that they say, my child; my womb is not impermeable to their words, unfortunately. This language they speak shines a subtly blinding streak of light, it has a way of seeping through the thickest skin and imprinting marks on your genetic makeup. You will come out to live among them thinking you are who you are not. There is a prevailing human belief out here, of racing forward to survive.
They will pre-condition you to think that walking onward is better than standing still, that competing with yourself to be happy is more valuable than challenging yourself to dwell in pain, that resisting pleasure will render you a wiser heart than if you go about seeking it like a scatter head. They will tell you to single-mindedly concentrate on the pleasantries and turn your deep gaze away from that which tightens your heart. They will maintain that if you keep looking at the things that cause you pain, your vibration will match that which you perceive. They will sensibly share only half of the truth, for it’s easier to settle for only a half-life.
What is more, they will innocently force you to rummage for the switch between this desirable thing and that undesirable thing in the mess of your mind. They will do this to comfort and empower you, they really do mean well, but it may immensely baffle you. You will want to collect your broken pieces and carry them with you all the time, if you listen. And that is quiet a weight to carry, their words are quite a burden. Tread ever so lightly around them, my child, before you make them your own.
Tell them about the things abandoned. When they talk about the King of the Jungle, the lion and his mighty roar, tell them about the Queen of the Sea, the blue whale whose songs are louder. When they teach you that the survival of the fittest lies in the pace and agility of a mammal to charge forward to attack, enlighten them about those tricky mysterious Kinkajou animals who’d rather not fight nor run in one direction, blessed with a superpower of being able to twist their feet and run backwards just as fast as they can forward.
Tell them about the big silly things ignored. When they tell you to squirm your way out of pain lest it buries you deep into the ground, remind them that diamonds are dug out of coalmines. When they pester you to stop being self-destructive, ask them if they ever hammered into their soul to peer into the stuff that gives them the means to love. Tell them that you must unlearn their language in order to feel your own native tongue. Tell them it’s their native language too.
On a more practical note, when you are stuck in a rut, Do Not Be Afraid and do not try to wriggle out of it. Watch them pace ahead of you, the halo of their bright ego unintentionally scorching all that’s around them. Stand far from from their sunlight in Perfect Stillness; bathe under your moonlight. Steady the beats of your exhausted squirming heart; I know how much it’s tired of reaching out, of keeping up. Feel all that you do without any of their words and their circumstances. Enlighten them about your lack of sense of direction and your sweaty palms.
It is the most unschooled place to be, this rut you are in. Do not try to escape it too fast. You are thriving in this lagging-behind. Endure it just a little while longer, it will set you free from having to say something all the time just to be someone all the time. It’s a tireless business, I tell you, this saying of words and being of someone. You may feel stinted to pull through in the way they want you to. Don’t succumb to their blind way out. Teach them about your way of surviving. Tell them about the value of the things suppressed.
Those ruts in life, which storify your pain, those contain the very stuff that will mend the unbreakable story that broke that day you learned to speak their language, and lost the sense for your native own. Be patient in the darkness of your island. Reside in it a little longer than they want you to. Open your eyes to its vast embrace. You will learn how to breathe in the water and see in the dark as you did in the obscurity of my womb. That, my child, is your ultimate superpower. Tell them that it was once theirs too.
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All I can say is, good luck to my unborn and not-yet-in-the-making child lol! Here’s to not setting impossible standards for kids on ways to be happy. I find it necessary to teach a child how to dwell in pain in order to navigate out of it, rather than teach them on ways to be happy. You can’t have one without the other. If I ever have one of my own, I may not be able to do that. But as an aunt, I love talking to my teenage nieces about their strategies on dealing with emotional issues. I find them wiser than I, younger and fearless to face harsh circumstances with a brave face of hope. I rarely advise them other than: enjoy the pain like a deep squat hold! Feel the burn! It’s chiseling your butt! And so do these emotional feelings chisel your character.
I don’t tell them that they are Kings or Queens. I try to not tell them that they are stronger and better than they think they are. I try to teach them that they are just as good as they can be, and, well, that’s plenty good for me!
Beisan A. Alshafei
March 8th, 2019
Beisan's Burble 