Peace requires us to surrender our illusions of control. We can love and care for others, but we can not possess our children, our lovers, family, or friends. We can assist them, pray for them, and wish them well. Yet in the end their happiness and suffering depend on their thoughts and actions, not on our wishes.~ Jack Kornfield

I didn’t realize what a tight ship I run, that is, until my children and grandchildren arrived for a visit. You have to realize that I live in a very controlled environment, where predictability assures safety. Gentle, lighthearted conversation, belly-laughing humor, along with deep intimacy and Presence is the norm. Enter four adults and two boys under the age of seven and we have a decibel level and chaos not common in my (probably) overly controlled physical space. Upon their arrival, each of my dear caregivers and friends comment on the physical and energetic difference of my living space.

And when my family leaves, they notice my fullness of heart bursting with a panoply of emotions including grief from the void left behind, the memories from our past that cannot be relived, as well as the relief that with each visit we have fewer unexamined or unresolved issues together. I am left with equal proportions of deep grief and deep joy.

Each visit feels special in its own way, but the visit last March seemed particularly deep and a bit less fragmented than usual. There were less opportunities for long individual conversations, but more building of love and cohesion as a family unit. Perhaps because the boys are getting older there are more opportunities for connection that doesn’t involve physicality, of which I am completely and regretfully incapable. Jordan came a week early to have mama time – my boy and his mama – and a week later his girlfriend Emily, Casey, Kumar, River, and Luc arrived.

The background of this visit included a movie being filmed by Kumar with River, Keyahi, Luc and Amali as the stars. I was cast as the Oracle. 🙂 I have to admit that the Oracle participated in the game of Cards Against Humanity on two different occasions with adult family and friends during this visit. If you have not played this game, the liberation that results from this sort of catharsis cannot be measured by trips to a therapist or pharmaceutical medicine. Try it. You will be horrified and humiliated, but if you can weather it, you will experience the immense liberation that comes from casting out all of our inhibitions.

Luc, my four-year-old grandson, is an adorable handful. (He is the one under the table in the photograph.) I’m not sure what it is about second children, but I see this pattern over and over again. Although with Casey and Jordan, a milder version of the opposite was true, which was probably due to their wider age difference. Luc is the child who tests every boundary presented, often for his own safety, and at other times for his parent’s sanity. It’s a good thing Luc is so adorable, because his will is pretty fierce at times. Both of his parents adore him, have a high threshold for his willfulness, and continually provide him with love as medicine. Luc was the child who, at two years old, poked the cat eight times in order to learn she would scratch him every time when he didn’t honor her boundaries. Casey eventually needed to intervene, because he still didn’t get it. Casey and I have this sort of tenacity in us as well. When it can be harnessed, it is a useful life skill in an adult, but this quality in a child is not easy to parent.

First children are considered the hero child. Perhaps the second child needs to enter with a vengeance to show us who they are, possibly to topple the heroes from their perceived throne. My beloved caregiver and friend told me her theory – if they gave you your second child first, you wouldn’t have a second child. 🙂

Each time they come to visit we get closer and closer. There is so much gratitude for each visit, while at the same time the impending grief grows. The courage it takes for each of us to continue to open and not shut down in the face of the inevitable Great Grief is profound. I think my respect for them grows along with a certain capacity to hold the grief.

Luc is also the child who is completely uninhibited and forthright. He came to me and said, “You’re going to die.” Fortunately, after working with children for nearly a decade, I don’t get rattled by much. I replied, “Yes, I have to get my angel wings.” This gave me the opening to have the conversation with him I’d been wanting to have. I told him that I would be with him his whole life and he could always speak to me, but he wouldn’t see me with his eyes, only his heart.

Later that day, I had a similar conversation with his older brother, River. This conversation needed to be more sophisticated, because River is less in the magical thinking stage and more concrete. River has been precocious since day one and requires more Presence when engaging with him. If you have had one conversation with River, you know this about him.

This was a groundbreaking visit and auspicious in its timing, because my physical condition has begun to rapidly decline. I hope I have the chance to reinforce these beliefs, that as I move toward the end of my life, feel more like truths. Casey was a witness to these conversations and I’m sure she will reinforce them for the boys and for herself. Casey was the child who taught me about the other vibration. When one of her children is struggling, she can recognize the greater missions they have undertaken. I trust she will be able to find me.

Sometimes, children’s eyes can see what adults’ have forgotten. May they feel my love through the veil with their hearts and not their minds. And if they have trouble finding me, perhaps Luc can show them the Way.

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