It seems like I've been seventeen for an awfully long time -
47 years next month, to be precise. Body sporadically reminds me that, although
feeling the benefit of being a herbivore and getting some exercise, it's no
longer a teenager. However, I can't honestly say my thinking mind feels any older
than it did when I graduated from high school. It’s still curious, prone to
wonder, and as my colleagues will attest, annoyingly analytical.
It was years after my teens before I could freely admit to
being an adult man. Over time, my depth perception has increased and I can't
deny being a bit wiser, but terms like 'grown up' and 'mature' suggest a level
of development I still don't feel.
This post languished as a draft for over a year as a title,
opening line, picture and a few scattered thoughts. Because the previous
post leaned towards ‘nothing to attain’ (hopefully not so far as to suggest
that aimless marketplace wandering should be substituted for formal practice),
now seemed a good time to bring this one out of mothballs.
Childhood's
End is the title of a science fiction novel I read in my teens by the late
Sir Arthur C. Clarke about a tipping point in human evolution. It made a
lasting impression on me and contributed, I’m sure, to my shamelessly
optimistic belief that, despite the horrors of human depravity, war, and the
animal holocaust, we are growing up.
We start out preoccupied with ourselves. Possessive, even
obsessive, about our toys. Caught up in playground rivalries - "I'm better
than you are!" With any luck, as we grow older, we leave some of this
behind. Life becomes less about our own personal pleasure, our personal safety,
and our status in the eyes of others. What gives us more happiness is nurturing
growth and healing hurt, as if our need for the world to be our parent
transforms into our becoming a parent to the world.
In the novel, a whole generation of children begins to
exhibit breakthroughs in awareness and acquire powers that their fearful parents don’t understand. To shepherd the children through this
transformation, a race of benevolent aliens keeps a watchful eye, and for the
most part, doesn't interfere with human affairs. One exception is their
intolerance of cruelty to animals. At a bullfight, when a Picador stabs the
bull with his lance, the entire crowd screams in pain. They quickly got the
message.
I think the reason I avoided finishing this post for so long
is that it cuts uncomfortably close to the bone. Writing about childish
behaviour in others draws on my considerable judgmental skills. Just
when I've figured out the specifics of someone else's arrested development, however,
I catch a glimpse of myself in that pesky mirror and it all goes out the
window.
I feel those pokes of the Picador’s lance as twinges of guilt each time
my critical thoughts loop back and point out my own fears and defence
mechanisms. The lessons hit the mark, and I’m very grateful for them … but it doesn't mean I have to like them.
Kindly
reminders to stop and, rather than follow my inclination to run away and take
refuge in distraction, take refuge in the Three Jewels.
Beckoning to loosen my fierce grip on the 'right' way.
To let each moment be.
Childhood's beginning.
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