To Allie: Year 5

On March 29, 2023March 29, 2023 By Swarn GillIn Love, Parenting6 Comments

Dear Allie,

Oh, my little one, you are getting not so little and yet I find myself being turned into a cliché parent with you. You are my baby, and I am even more desperate than I thought I could be to keep you little, to keep you cuddly, and sweet. I am resigned that because Dhyan is older, he must grow up and enter the world, and somehow with you, I just want to preserve your little 4 year oldness. It’s completely illogical of course, because I knew as was the case with your brother, every step you take, is a step further away from me, but still I feel like I want to hold on to you more. It’s almost like it’s not time’s fault, that somehow you children are growing through some divine intervention and I want to make a deal and say, “Okay you can let that one grow up” but not this one.

But of course it is all emotional nonsense. The fact is, you will grow, and I am also excited to see how you grow. You are certainly different child than your brother. You have an exuberance, a silliness, and an energy that is unlike anything I expected. There is just something special about you that makes me think you are going to surprise me in some way. I don’t know, just something I feel in my heart. Perhaps that’s just more emotional nonsense. I guess only time will tell.

Alright so let’s get down to the brass tacks. What have you been like this past year. You love to come up to me and slap my tummy. You still like to climb up me, but you are too tall stand on my shoulders so you sit on them now. It’s still 50/50 that my shoulders will give out before you are ready to stop doing this. You are loud when you are playing video games on your tablet. Quite boisterous and eager to climb on me jump on me. The danger of injuring me is ever present with you. And yet at the same time I love it. Even when I sometimes pretend that I don’t. I mean sometimes it would be nice that you would run and give me a hug instead of running and slapping my tummy, but your excitement to see me just makes me smile. You have come to specifically slap my tummy twice in the writing of this letter. (Addendum: 4 times).

The thing that bothers me the most about you right now is how long it takes to eat. You just can’t sit down and eat. Any excuse to get up. Even to give a hug, which you know always works, even though you really should be eating. Then when we can’t sit there anymore and leave you get sad that nobody is sitting at the table with you. I am very much looking forward to the day when you are a hungry growing boy and shovel in your food!

Oddly, since I wrote Dhyan’s birthday letter, life has brought some significant events to my life, one to all our lives. Your grandfather died. I am sorry you never really go to know him. Your grandfather suffered from alcoholism and our relationship was strained when he announced he didn’t want to come to our home anymore when I invited him out to meet you when you were just a baby. I was so mad that I broke contact with him. By the time he got around to apologize it was almost 5 years later. I would say that you seemed to be bonding to him quickly. He was always good with children, and I wish you had more time. He died while staying with us after catching double pneumonia. Even though you didn’t know him well, you were notably impacted by his death. For the first time in your young life you had to confront what the death of a person meant. You’ve had some difficult moments, and even now you are still worried about sickness leading to death. That’s what happened to him. It’s hard to make you understand, and I am sure this will pass, but for right now we are keeping a close eye on you and will get you help if you seem to be really struggling emotionally. I don’t think it’s impacting you too much, but it’s a still a big thing to process.

As for me, it was difficult watching him helpless and on life support in the hospital. I cried when he passed, but I think it was not only because I didn’t want him to die, but also because it was the end of a sad story. He had a difficult life that led him to addiction, and he never really escaped its grip. There are many good, even amazing things about him. And there was a lot of hurt and troubling things as well. But if you grow up to love me, then you will also love him, for he is a part of me. And I will do my best to tell you the truth of him, because there is so much to learn from someone as beautiful and flawed as he was. So even though he didn’t get to know you, you will get to know him through my eyes.

The other thing of note is that I am going to be a published author. Not in meteorology like a good professor, but in poetry. In about a week and half from this letter there will be a book out there with my name on it that will actually be in somebody’s house. It’s thrilling and also a bit strange. I never thought something like this would happen. I just enjoy writing, and think language is amazing with all the things you can do with it.

You had a wonderful year coming out of the pandemic. You got to go to London and you had a wonderful time even if you don’t have strong memories. You were a good traveler and I’m glad you have a sense of adventure.

Life is going to change for you this year. You’re so smart and I’m so proud of you. I’m excited by the personality emerging from you more and more each day. You are starting to school and thus begins a long journey of formal learning. But I think you will like school and you will excel just like your brother.

my lightning
my energy
how blaze
by me so quickly

but take not time with you
stay
my little one
stay young
I’m okay
just being a cliché

what would be the harm
if you fit
just so
nestled in my arms?

my little one
with amber hair
aswirl
your life will unfurl
but you just look
so beautiful
when you’re small
and curl

To Dhyan: Year 9

On January 31, 2023January 31, 2023 By Swarn GillIn Love, Parenting5 Comments

Dear Dhyan,

Well the first thing you’ll notice about this letter, in some future date when you read these, is that it comes well after your birthday. I don’t have a lot of good excuses. There was a lot of busyness and sickness around your birthday and it’s taken me awhile just to get my thoughts flowing again. So I apologize.

Also I did use a photo in the header that has you looked none to pleased to have your photo taken. I hope you will see it one day and regret your face that tells your mother. “Really, mommy. Another photo?”

For some reason I find myself feeling differently as I write this year’s letter. I know you are only 9 and just a child, there is something more grown up about you suddenly that I feel like I am writing a letter to a young adult as opposed to a kid. You’ve grown in height and maturity so much it seems that I guess I feel like I am already started to glimpse the man you will become. Of course, it could be just because I don’t feel like I can carry you anymore. But perhaps that’s just as much a function of me getting older as you!

Maybe it shouldn’t be that surprising though. When I was 9 I went to India and I felt like that trip had a profound impact on me. I am not sure what my parents would say about how I changed, but I do feel like your trip to London this summer helped you grow up in a way that only travel can do. Of course, London isn’t some vastly different place, but nevertheless I think there is something about just seeing the different ways cultures can be, different ways cities can be built, different systems for getting around. All those things sometimes act like learning another language. They give us a different mental grammar. And you were so wonderful in London walking around and taking in the sights. Fearless on the tube, leading the way. I was so very proud of you. Traveling is something this family likes to do and I feel like you’ve gotten bitten by the travel bug a bit and will continue to enjoy traveling adventures and I find myself even more excited to take you places.

I also shouldn’t be surprised that you always impress me with your maturity. You have a cool confidence about you. And it shows that you have growing awareness of your own thoughts and feelings. You still have trouble expressing your feelings especially when you’re feeling bad about something. It almost makes me cry when I see how sensitive you are. But it is the source of your empathy and kindness, and it always makes me so proud when I see how understanding and kind you are. What I’m learning as a dad is that being vulnerable is a hard thing. I thought perhaps I could get you there faster because I am someone who is expressive and comfortable in my own skin, but I think that it’s a skill that just takes time. And in the end, you are just 9. You are already far ahead of where I was at the age. You are sensitive like me, and I know it can feel overwhelming at times. Expressing it does make a big difference, but I have every confidence that when you feel the need to take that next step really explore your feelings you will get there. Maybe I underestimate how long it takes to just observe our emotions before we really understand how to express them.

You also continue to impress me with your desire to read and learn. This, too, can really change a person. You are reading and several levels about your grade level and it also reminds me how much language transforms us. It seems your growth has really evolved as you’ve read more and more with more complex plots and vocabulary.

That being said, the one area that we need to get better at is being able to have serious talks with you. Up until now I think I’ve been just content to let you unfold without trying to guide you. You are at the age where you can pretty much look up anything you want on the internet and that makes things a bit scary. So we need to talk to you about the things you might find. And really this is the beginning of a real loss of innocence. We have to tell you that people might try to manipulate you. That people aren’t always kind. That you may find disturbing images. And it’s so hard to have a conversation with you about these things sometimes, because you tend to sort of shutdown. And I think that’s why it’s also been difficult to write this letter because I feel like I should be talking to you instead of about you. And I often don’t know how to talk to you, because I’m afraid of you shutting down. Sometimes I don’t even know if you’re listening. Maybe it’s because it’s hard for you to process these things because you’re so sensitive. Maybe also you feel like we are having these talks with you because we’re accusing you of doing something wrong. I think realizing some truths about the world will be hard for you initially, but I know you’ll be able to handle it. You just have a very big heart and it can be overwhelming sometimes, but you will be stronger after you wrestle with these things internally. But I just want you to know that I’m going to keep trying. And it’s not so much that I want to tell you things, but I also really just want to hear what you have to say. What you’re thinking. How you’re feeling.

I feel really caught between wanting you to be older and more sure, and preserving that child-like sweetness. And I feel, that in some way, this is where you are too. You also see yourself changing and wishing you could still be a child. Maybe that’s why you’ve been less patient with your little brother. Don’t get me wrong, you are still doing well, but I imagine it’s hard having to be the more mature one, while your little brother gets to be more of a kid. Little siblings come along and take that freedom away. And I think sometimes as a parent I too often am expecting more maturity than you are capable of. Well I think it’s always good to remind you to be good to your brother, I am sorry if sometimes I get mad when really you are just being an 8 year old.

Who am I this year? Well I guess we old people don’t change as much. I still feel like I’m still waiting for some important change, some test, some awakening. I don’t know. Maybe it’s that I still feel uneasy about the future. I know myself, but I don’t know what kind of world you will face. And even though your character matters most, I guess I can’t help but wish for a world where you can flourish. Maybe I just really need to work on making sure I stay in the moment. But overall I feel good and I’m excited to take you and Allie to Europe this summer. I want you to know more of the world and enjoy travel like I do. We have so many more places to go!

I am sorry this letter is so late. I’ll do better next year. I shall leave you with a poem, my growing up child. Happy Birthday!

when I see your face
my heart is a shield
a blanket

a cocoon

as if you could become
the man
you were meant to be
ensconced in my love

for why would I want
any harm
come to you

but harm happens
and you must learn
to stand

and I must bear
the heartbreak
of your falls

To Allie: Year 4

On March 29, 2022March 28, 2022 By Swarn GillIn Love, Musings, Parenting1 Comment

Dear Allie,

I have never been more unsure about what to say in a letter to one of you than I am about this one. Right now, I’m listening to you do a silly voice. You’re playing with your brother. And all I can think is just how lively you are. Not just rambunctious, though you are (however, I’ve met super rambunctious children, which was frightening), but just always talking. Loud. Rambling. Narrating everything. You even narrated your own running “I’m running!”. You are a force. I really don’t know how to describe you.

Our main form of interaction is either, you attacking me, you dragging me and calling me your pet, telling me I smell like “chicken tuney fish” or asking me if I like fish poop. Your brother has been a bit of a negative influence, but since he doesn’t abuse in quite so systematic a way, I have to think that you are already trying to challenge me in some competitive son-father way.

We still play games we’ve been playing since prior to your 3rd birthday. For instance, you still want your cookie and vitamins in the morning. Before it had to be a bowl, and now you’re more open to the plate option. But I still, as I’m serving it, or when you ask for it, make a claim that it’s “actually for me”. And you respond back playfully “It’s for me!!!”. But sometimes you get worried I will take it. I have never taken the cookie or vitamin in two years, and now I find it fascinating, as a science experiment, to see when you’ll glue it together that daddy is just kidding. And one day this ritual will end, and I will be pretty sad about it.

We also still play a game that quite frankly I thought you would have outgrown by now. I always used to say “Where’s Allie?” when I would fake not being able to find you. Sometimes I would look straight ahead and not look down when you were in front of me. Sometimes you were behind me and I would be facing away from you, looking in that direction. You’d giggle mercilessly. You still do, but now you’re hanging on to my pockets and so I shuffle around, and as I turn my body you turn with me while. My back pockets being looser and baggier is not good for holding on to my wallet, nor can it help the look of an ever-expanding butt. It is obvious in every way possible that you are behind me and yet sometimes I think you actually believe I don’t know where you are. I suppose there is just the possibility that you are very silly. And you are quite silly. I love it though. It makes me happy to hear you giggle.

I am so in love you, Allie. You are just a wonderful child, and so beautiful. Both you and your brother take my breath away when I see your faces. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still little and you definitely make some solid messes. Also, you will not sit down at the dinner table and eat your dinner at dinner time, but only in the 5 minutes before bedtime. In addition, currently, you are scared of flies. Summer is coming Allie, there will be a lot of flies. You just have to get used to flies. This could end up being a very longer, but we’ll get through it. But overall, I couldn’t be happier about who you are. You are an amazing little boy.

As far as who I am right now, at this point of my life, I can only say, I think I’ve been better. Life feels a lot like stress management. What can I do to stay sane? I’ve lost some fight during the pandemic. I think part of it is a lack of togetherness. It feels more alone and that there is a tide carrying us along and we are helpless to do anything about it. It feels very uncertain that the world will be moving in a better direction when you reach adulthood. I am grateful the pandemic came when you were this age, just because I knew it wasn’t going to interrupt your development as you would just be home with mommy and daddy more and just see it as more fun. And it has been. You are fun child. And in the end, I have a lot of love in my life, and have a lot to be grateful for. I am very grateful to you. For your light brown, golden tipped curls. For your laugh. For your smile. Your innocence rejuvenates me. You are kind and thoughtful. So gentle with the cats. You could be a little less vicious with your father though. Sometimes you could just run to me and hug me excitedly. We’ll work on it. Until then I will enjoy everything you do because your ridiculously cute whatever you’re doing.

I will live
for your moments
of pure and unadulterated joy
even as my hearing fades
like Beethoven
I shall hold the music in my mind
and know with precision
what happiness sounds like
& with my pen
I write

every moment
you are in my arms

Happy birthday Allie. As much as I sometimes which I could preserve you in your perfection, I also can’t wait to see what more you have in store for me as you grow. I love you!

Love,
Daddy

The Daddy Who Went Up The Mountain

On December 18, 2020 By Swarn GillIn Humor, Parenting10 Comments

Prologue

I woke up this morning with a great deal of excitement. Two days ago we got about 7” of snow and yesterday, while at a nearby park, I spotted an excellent place with a slope that was steep enough to provide a bit of speed for my two children (almost 7, and 2.75 years old) while I also not being ridiculous big for a hike upwards to the top. It was perhaps about 60 ft. It was perfect for sledding.

Our Story

Sledding is a source of many positive memories for me growing up. It was a popular activity in Edmonton where I grew up and it was a common wintertime activity especially since I wasn’t much of a skater. I was going to give my kids the most exciting time of their life. Oh yes, I will be “fun daddy” as I am sometimes called by the toddler.

I began the arduous task of collecting clothes and getting them dressed. After what can only be described as 3 days later, we were ready to go. When we got to the park, Allie (the toddler) was excited to hold one of the sleds. It was light and so I let him, but it was clear that there was no way he was going to go anywhere fast if left to walk on his own. The half foot snow amounts to 17% of his height and it’s slow going with him even on a sidewalk. This wasn’t going to be easy. So I decided that it might make it easier to trudge a path up there and if we just keep using the same path eventually he might be excited enough to make the trek himself. So I carried him up the first time. We had 3 different sleds. The traditional wooden toboggan. Not sure what it’s called in the U.S. so feel free to look that word up! One sort of surfboard like thing with a plastic bottom and the plastic disc sled. The snow was completely untouched and the first two went nowhere. On the disc, both Dhyan (my eldest) and I went nowhere also, but Allie slid down slowly. But it made a track and compressed some of the snow. After a few more times of me carrying Allie up and trying it again we had a viable track, and my older son was able to go down also.

It all sounds good, but my 46 year old body was already feeling it. I was thinking this hill isn’t nearly as big as the one I went on as a kid. Of course the last time I went sledding I was a teen in my prime able to walk up any hill myself. Also the hill didn’t have this much freshly fallen snow to trudge through. In Canada so many kids go sledding that whenever I would go, it was already a smooth packed surface to easily sail down, and one didn’t have to wade through deep snow to get up to the top. Many people had already taken the path up. As I continued to lug my toddler back up and then go back down for the sled I could tell I was sweating. Sweat dripped down my face, and inside my winter jacket I could tell I was getting soaked. I was worried about getting chilled so I knew I had to keep exerting energy. No matter how well traveled the path was getting, Allie could not climb on his own. I began to feel like Sisyphus, the boulder was my toddler. And every time I’d get him to the top I would watch him go down again and then go and retrieve him.

Eventually the kids soaked from snow and daddy soaked from sweat I packed them into the car. I remembered that the difference between my toddler and the boulder is that I am sure the boulder, never yelled excitedly as it rolled down. Poor Sisyphus might have even enjoyed his torment if he felt the boulder was having a good time. I asked Dhyan as we drove back if he had a good time and he said yet. I felt very satisfied. The feeling was short-lived. “Daddy can we do it again tomorrow?”

Epilogue

As I sit here in my chair. My back, very angry a me right now, I think to myself that I should have known my toddler wouldn’t be able to go up that hill. Still it was worth it. Nevertheless I’d like to thank my parents because while they were certainly younger than I was when they took me up hills, I’m sure it was no easy task and I thank them. Let’s hope I heal in time for round 2 tomorrow. Unlike life in Edmonton, snow doesn’t stick around here in southwest Pennsylvania for very long so we have to take advantage of good snow while it’s here.

I need a hot tub.

The Long Leaving

On October 18, 2020 By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry5 Comments

my guardian
my heart
where do I start
Are you yourself?
Can you show me
do you know me?

for years I kept
you near
and I missed
you the most

you never wanted
to be a burden
It was
We were both hurting
But just as you
did it all for me
at my beginning
so shall I be with you
at the end
I shall attend

when you crossed
I was both lost
and free
I want to remember me
have these last few years
moved from the fore
and just reflect
on days of yore

seeing what I might become
Is troublesome
I must live
and not give in
to future fears
while I’m still here

I put shadows of you
in my pocket
and take a step
into the clear air

When Insanity is Normal

On October 26, 2018 By Swarn GillIn Commentary, Parenting, Politics, Psychology30 Comments

I’ve started a new case for my volunteer work. So I don’t repeat myself too much, you can read a previous post about what I do and what my observations have been as of about 2 years ago. But this new case has made me realize something else. I can’t name names but let me give you a taste of what’s going in the case.

A 24 year old woman had her kids removed from her because upon the birth of her last child, she and the newborn tested positive for cocaine. Her partner also tested positive for cocaine. The partner is the father of the youngest two, the oldest, who is 5 has a different biological father, who until recently hasn’t been involved because the mother actively tried to keep him out of her life when he remarried. The father of the youngest two was reported as having sexually molested a 3 year old girl. He claims he didn’t do it, but the child’s story was detailed enough that he is on record as a known perpetrator. This father is 32, the mother 24, which is a bit of an age gap, given that their first child happened when she was only 22 and he was 30. He has 3 other children of which he has lost parental rights to all 3. There was evidence that often the oldest who is 5 was locked in a room with her 1 year old brother and was at times the primary caretaker of him. Since her children have been removed from she and the father have continually tested positive for cocaine. If they are unable to keep clean they will lose parental rights to their children. Currently they both live in their car, and have no home.

The children upon being removed were originally placed with the maternal grandmother. The story of her life involves her baby brother dying of SIDS when she was 5. She has cleary had undiagnosed mental illnesses throughout most of her life from PTSD, to bi-polar, to clinical depression. To give you a sense of the situation she has been recommended to receive mental health treatment from 9-2 pm…Monday through Friday. Upon the death of her brother she began being extremely violent towards animals, and pushed her sister onto the driveway as her mother was backing out who then ended up running over her sister (luckily this only result in slight injury). She has 4 children through 3 different fathers ranging from the age of 26, to the youngest being 12. Her youngest daughter was actually a twin, but she was with an abusive partner while pregnant, killing one of the twins. She believed that the birth of a daughter would soften this guy (who was also a cocaine user) but not surprisingly this did not happen. Her oldest son has 3 children, her oldest daughter (the mother in my case) 3 children, her 18 year old daughter is pregnant. Recently, the partner she has been with now for 10 years was accused of sexually molesting her 18 year old daughter since she was a young girl. This turned out to be true, and this maternal grandmother apparently knew about it and didn’t do anything. The maternal grandmother’s sister also hit her niece badly causing child services to remove the niece for a time from her sister’s home. It would be too lengthy to give more details but this maternal grandmother has exposed her kids to some broken people, has moved back and forth from different states, has at times not had her own home, and has clearly suffered through some nightmarish experiences.

I know that most of my readers will read those last two paragraphs and be like “WTF!?” Some of you might feel anger, some sadness, probably both. Overall, if you’re like me you will recognize this as an insane situation in which can hardly connect to. This is chaos, and my intuition is helpless as I observe all this because it is so foreign to me. I cannot fathom how this is real, human life. But what I’ve come to realize is that this is normal for them. This is just how life is. This is how life is for much of their family and friends as well. You might say, how can a mother let her daughter be molested and not do anything about it? The only answer I can come up with is that through generations of poverty that the tolerance for deeply troubling behaviors and people is high given that this all seems like par for the course. And poverty is at the heart of this at the heart of this tale. Now that’s not to say that there wasn’t a period of prosperity in the maternal grandmother’s life, but the people she imported into her life, because she grew up with no parent recognizing her mental illness, because the behaviors of her own parents seemed normal, has kept a level of dysfunction in the family that would break most of us if we had to tolerate it for more than a day. I remember my first visit to the maternal grandmother’s home. Two of her other grandchildren were there along with her son and daughter in law. The place was a mess with laundry everywhere. It was a small two bedroom trailer, in which the 3 grandchildren she was fostering, her 12 year old, and her and her partner lived. I felt claustrophobic and wanted to leave and try to pretend that people didn’t have to live like that. And that’s not to say that people don’t have it worse. All I’m saying is that for so many families, all this is absolutely normal. This shouldn’t be normal. In talking to the maternal grandmother I actually found her to be fairly prescient, places importance on school and education, and seems to at least have good intentions for those in her care. What’s not clear is that she necessarily always understand what good care actually means. If anybody expects people to just reason their way out of the situation, theysimply don’t know what they’re talking about.

Thankfully at the last hearing a couple days ago. The oldest daughter got moved to her biological father and his wife. Both seem like really good people. The two youngest children have been placed with a foster family who seem really nice and nurturing. They understand that re-unification with the parents can happen, but are also willing to be a permanent home should the parents not be able lose their addiction. There is some stability there and there are all sorts of hardworking people trying to do what’s best for the children. Children are innocent and born into these situations. It’s easy to condemn the adults, but when you learn more about them you just realize that they were just like these children and born into impossible situations. I do this work for the children, but my heart breaks for the adults as well. Most of the time they just get judged by the rest of society and forgotten. When the mother had her visitation reduced at the last court hearing and found out she wasn’t going to get any special time with her children at Christmas she was in tears. Despite the fact that she isn’t capable of being the parent her children need, the pain in her voice, in her face, and the intensity of her sobs made it clear that what little love she had in her life was slipping away. I am not saying this is an excuse for giving her her kids back, and I’m glad Pennsylvania always tries to give parents a path to get their kids back, but I can imagine the pain I would feel if the same was happening to me. It still broke my heart.

I appreciate all the people who dedicate their lives to helping children and families in these situations, but it’s really just all not enough. We have to do better. We have to make these kinds of things priorities for our politicians and raise awareness of what poverty is really like.

——————————————————-

For those of you interested in volunteering for the organization I work for it is called CASA. You can check out the national website, but you’d have to see if they exist in your county if you wanted to volunteer. But if you just want to donate to them some time that also helps. There may be other service providers that help children in your area as well that could use your support.

Discussion: Innocence and Knowledge

On September 17, 2018September 17, 2018 By Swarn GillIn Parenting, Philosophy44 Comments

Unexpectedly, I am finding one of the hardest parts as a parent is to decide when should I tell the truth about the realities of the world. I see the innocence and joy in life my son has, and it breaks my heart to tell him anything that speaks to the suffering that takes in this world. There is a part of me that wants to preserve that innocence for as long as possible, and yet there is also part of me that wants to prepare him so he has the courage to face it. I think overall I lean towards the former, because who am I to destroy such unadulterated joy in life? Pain will find us all, and when it happens I’ll be there. There is no rush.

But last night I started thinking, why can’t we all be more childlike and experience that joy? What really causes us to “lose our innocence”. I don’t think it’s death in of itself. I don’t think sadness in of itself is what prevents us from experiencing a lot more bliss.

In trying to answer this question about loss of innocence, I started to think what a strange story the Garden of Eden is in Genesis. The fact that eating from the tree of knowledge is what is referred to as the “fall of man”, the end of paradise (and innocence). I don’t think knowledge as a whole is a problem. For the most part knowledge makes me less fearful, less confused, and more likely to course correct in my life. Life of course can’t be 100% bliss, but I imagined a world in which the only sadness we would experience would be when someone we love died of natural causes, or natural disasters. We might experience pain through breakups or moving away from home. It is a dynamic world and there is an impermanence to all things. I think such a world would be a more blissful experience, much more child-like. What really causes us to lose our innocence is finding out the horrible things we do to each other. That is a weight to bear that changes you forever; for which there is no going back. If any biblical story in Genesis is going to represent the fall of man it should be when Cain kills his brother in anger (albeit anger due to God’s dissatisfaction with a vegan meal). Anyway, I don’t really intend to get into a discussion about the Bible, only that as a parent the story struck as very odd even if I believed it was true.

For as long as I’ve been aware of the larger world that we live in, the only things that really break my spirit are is the harm that humans cause each other. I’ve never sobbed and felt the world was a horrible place because someone died in a flood or of a heart attack. I am curious as to what other people think about innocence and the loss thereof. Could we be living in greater bliss than we are? What does it mean to you “Loss of innocence”? If you are a parent have you cried tears of happiness at the purity of your child’s joy, and have you also wept when you’ve watched them realized the horrors people commit against each other? Any thoughts you might have on this topic are welcome.

Mango

On May 13, 2016May 13, 2016 By Swarn GillIn Parenting, Philosophy6 Comments

I’ve loved mangoes ever since I can remember. For me they are by far the tastiest fruit out there. Love probably isn’t the right word, but it’s the best I can do. I remember when I was young boy, my dad would cut up fruit for us to eat on Sunday mornings, and it was a real treat when mangoes would be in season. He would spend a lot of time cutting, and end up eating little. Very often I would eat an entire big mango in a sitting, and as the last piece was given to me I would express some faux-guilt about eating it all and my dad would look at me and say “don’t worry son, I’ve eaten so many mangoes in my life that you could never catch up to me anyway” and happily give me the last piece. He did grow up in India and I am sure he did have a lot of mangoes. Maybe to him it was like an apple. But I don’t know, if I had mangoes as readily available as apples I don’t think I would crave them any less. As I got into my teens, still every bit a mango fiend, and thought about someday sharing mangoes with my child I questioned my ability to be so generous. I mean sure I’d share, but give all of it to him? That’s not possible.

So here I am a parent and mangoes are in season and my son just loves them. And I am happy to say I know exactly how my dad must have felt. It makes me so happy to see that joy of being able to taste sweet, juicy, and wonderful fruit. I cut away, and feed him as many slices as he wants. I feel grateful that I am able to give him his heart’s desire in the form of fruit (knowing that such fruit would be a luxury for many families) and I even think to myself how many mangoes I’ve had in my life, and maybe it’s not as many as my dad, but I’m happy to let my son try and catch up. His joy is so much better than a mango.

It’s easy to get caught up in giving our kid the things we didn’t have when we were children, but thus far it seems a far more spiritually fulfilling experience to share with my son the things I did have that brought me joy, because I know what it feels like, and I can connect with him in a way that I couldn’t by simply giving him something I didn’t have. And if we feel positive about the people we are now, maybe those things you missed out on aren’t quite as important in the end.

Life, the Universe, and Everything

On February 16, 2016August 3, 2016 By Swarn GillIn Humor, Love, Musings, Philosophy, Stories15 Comments

“And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small café in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.”

― Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

It is today my 42^nd birthday and I decided this would be a good year to reflect. Why 42, why not 40 like any other normal person with a penchant for round numbers? According Douglas Adams’ Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy series a supercomputer was asked to come up with the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything and 42 was that answer. So I am at the age which is the answer, but of course if you read the series you know that while the answer was determined a more powerful supercomputer had to be created to determine the question (which turned out to be the planet Earth). So 42 seems like a great age to think about answers and questions.

This is also the year that I often joked would be when I started my own cult. This was supposed to be easy as I was going to have a good portion of Twitter followers, find myself a good compound with fertile soil and enjoy the good life. Extra wives would have been optional. It’s weird how as I get older there seems to be more of a drive to keep life simple and surround yourself by like minded people. Anyway, Twitter really doesn’t suit me, for as you can see, I don’t say many things in 140 words or less so my followers are few, and I think life is better that way, and also I’m not a very proficient gardener, so I’m probably better off living close to the farmer’s market. So here I am, nobody famous and nobody to follow, and a mini essay of reflection is probably more suited to greater personalities, but hey, it’s the age of information and I have a blog, so why not write? 🙂

Life

I think what makes being a teenager so difficult is that this is the time in your life when you start to self-actualize a lot more and really think about the future. It’s a terrible thing really, because you are also still young enough where you really don’t know shit. I remember thinking a lot about the type of person I wanted to be. My dad was (and still is) an alcoholic and as a teenager I knew that I didn’t want to be like my dad. Kids respond to those who are consistently there for them, and my mom was that person. Of course I’ve come to realize many positives about my dad as well, but as a kid I knew that whatever way my dad was, wasn’t working. My mom was loving, supporting, nurturing, and always there. At the time I never really looked at my mom and dad’s personalities as related gender, but more as what are the behaviors that lead to increased happiness and that bring increased happiness to others. I am sure it did in many ways shape why I’ve always felt more free to be myself more in front of women than men, and why I look beyond arbitrary categorizations of people and simply try to stick to values that bring happiness.

I also remember thinking that I was not the person I wanted to be. I felt like I was this amazing person who was trapped inside myself. Inside a shell that I needed to break out of. I know now that there is a certain element of being a child of an alcoholic that makes us more fearful of self-expression because of how we internalize our parents’ addiction, but I think teenagers can simply be apprehensive about inserting themselves in the world no matter how much they want to. I know I am a person who leans toward safety over risk, and that was one of the things I wanted to get better at as I got older which was to be bold. It’s still the quality I struggle with the most, but I’m proud to say that the vision I had for myself at around the age of 16 isn’t far off the mark. The compliment that I have received several times and means the most to me is when people tell me that they can tell immediately the type of person that I am because I am so open and. It is the part I like about myself the most especially because I think life is too short to pretend with people. I am proud that I have reached a point in life where I am comfortable in my own skin, and it is something that has always seemed like a necessary way to be, but I in no way want to imply that I have go there solely on my own.

Another thing I worried about when I was young was that I wasn’t original. I felt like everything I was, was copied from somebody else. I didn’t have any original ideas, I wasn’t creative. As I was thinking about what to write in this post yesterday I was wondering if I should say that the meaning of life is “theft”. We are born as absolutely blanks and while genetics may texture our canvas to a certain respect we are painted on by the many people we come to know in life, our culture and society also paints broad brushes over us too. Of course theft isn’t really the right word. People and society paint things upon us and we have little say in that. And in most other cases it is people who in my life who have given, and I have taken, and I would like to believe that with time I have been better about showing my gratitude. It would not be until a certain Star Trek: The Next Generation Episode that I felt better about my lack of originality. Here Captain Picard comments on the emotionless android Data’s violin playing.

PICARD: The good doctor was kind enough to provide me with a recording of your concert. Your performance shows feeling.
DATA: As I have recently reminded others, sir, I have no feeling.
PICARD: It’s hard to believe. Your playing is quite beautiful.
DATA: Strictly speaking, sir, it is not my playing. It is a precise imitation of the techniques of Jascha Heifetz and Trenka Bronken.
PICARD: Is there nothing of Data in what I’m hearing? You see, you chose the violinists. Heifetz and Bronken have radically different styles, different techniques, yet you combined them successfully.
DATA: I suppose I have learned to be creative, sir, when necessary.
PICARD: Mister Data, I look forward to your next concert.

So yes, I now feel original, thanks to lines written by somebody else. Star Trek has actually taught me quite a bit now that I think about it. 🙂 Life is also full of irony and paradoxes enough to make you scratch your head for a lifetime. In the end though, isn’t this what we really are…a product of others, both biologically and environmentally with a unique level of proportions such that we are originals? What I really mean to say about all this is that I feel really grateful to all those who have given and for what I have taken. I have taken the best of you to the very heart of me and a result carry you everywhere. Some I’ve not seen or talked to in some time, some it may have only been a brief time in which we knew each other, or perhaps were not even very close friends, but I saw what was good in you, I smiled at it, and celebrated it and let it course through my arteries. I am thankful for all the love, the friendship, the inspiration, the memories, the lessons taught, and yes even the criticism and in some cases hurt. I am unique and original because of all of you and there is no other way I’d rather be.

The Universe

Growing older also means growing more aware as you continue to experience and learn in life. As someone who is strongly committed to learning as awareness grows so does the burden of that knowledge. It is only in the most recent years that I have truly understood the expression ignorance is bliss. However, it is also important to remember that your own bliss is of little value to anybody else but yourself, and we are a social species. As I’ve learned I continued to have more awe for this amazing universe we live in, uncovering the darkness that shrouds knowledge also means discovering the horrors, the malice, the pain, and the suffering. It is all the worse when you are one of the lucky ones to have things far better than so many. It makes you question the very right to feel happy. And when it comes down to it, it makes me feel bad just complain about how heavy the thoughts are sometimes, because I am so fortunate to just have to think about it and not actually experience the hardships so many bear. I am fortunate that I can put those thoughts to the side at times. However, I also know there is no denying it either. And I know that just feeling sad and depressed all the time would be debilitating so there is nothing for it but to do something about it. I am not helpless under this weight although sometimes it can feel that way. So I try, and I let myself feel happiness for all the beauty that exists as well. There is much to fight against in this world, but I feel if we forget what we’re fighting for, it’s easy to get lost in the darkness.

I believe that it is this mixture of awe-inspiring beauty and soul-draining horror that drives us. I think we can’t help but feel small in the face of it. Some try to conquer it by building belief systems that explain it all, some try to chip away at the answer slowly through careful investigation, and some just turn to vices to distract themselves and to numb themselves. However, from what I’ve seen, the true winners in this world are always the ones who accept how small they are in the face of it all. It’s bigger than any one individual and it’s the one thing we all have in common. It is enough to make you just sit there and think “Why can’t we just all get along? It really does seem so simple to just be nice to each other. Nobody has to get nailed to anything.

As I look forward the things on the horizon are amazing. Just as there are things in my young life I never thought possible but exist now, I know there are many unknown wonders that await me for the rest of my life. I like being this age and knowing all the things that I know. Wisdom comes to you without even knowing it, and I like it. I admit that I am not a big fan of leaving this existence. I see us getting closer to things like unlocking the mysteries of aging, replacing organs, interfacing the computer to the brain and I wonder if in the not too distant future we might have a choice to live far longer than we do to do. I am jealous quite frankly. As someone who embraces change and has seen how changes occur over time spans far greater than our human lives I would like to experience it. I want to choose when I want to leave this existence and have a shot at deepening that well of wisdom beyond this short time on Earth. When I think of all the change that has occurred over 1000 years, 10,000 years and so on…I wonder what it would be like to see it…what perspective that would give you…how you would look at the universe differently. I suppose such a chance will not happen, but I keep the dream alive only because it is at times helpful to remember that we are not only small in terms of the vastness of space, but also the vastness of time. I can’t be expected to figure it all out, and that’s okay.

And Everything

There isn’t much more to say here. Of course there is more to life I suppose, but it’s amazing how important some people become so that even the other things seem to tendril out from it. I know that there are no guarantees in life, but that’s why living in the moment is so important. I am lucky that I have a life where I can take care of them just as much as they take care of me. The fact that our love can put some things at the center of our life, at the center of our universe, is amazing What more could I want? I do have everything.

Broken

On January 27, 2016January 27, 2016 By Swarn GillIn Commentary, Parenting, Psychology10 Comments

I know a while back I posted a blog about public defenders and how it inspired me to be more proactive in my community and vowed to do some volunteer work that I had been putting off until the “right moment” in my life and just do it. So in case you didn’t know I successfully completed the training and wanted to talk a little bit about my experience so far. I guess there will be two separate parts here, one in regards to the system itself and one specifically about my case (which I can’t get too specific about).

What exactly am I doing? Well I am a Court Appointed Special Advocate (or CASA). This is a program that exists in many counties across the nation, and in certain cases of child neglect or abuse the judge assigns a CASA to the case. My role is to interview the child, parents, foster care, child development specialists, doctors, teachers, etc and then try to compile a report for court hearings that happen every 3 months so that I can make specific recommendations for the child (or children I represent) in court. I try to make recommendations in the best interest of the child. This sometimes can be towards reunification with the parents (or parent) or sometimes away from the parents. The key is to make those recommendations based on as much evidence as follows.

After my first training session one of the volunteers who I had sat next to, when we walked out of the session looked at each other and were thinking the same thing and he said to me before I could say to him “I can’t believe they have volunteers doing this.” So if it seems unbelievable to you, this is one of the first things I learned: We really don’t love children as much as we say we do. The full-time workers of the program say that it’s even hard to get donations for abused and neglected children. I came in with some pre-conceived notions about Child Protection Services or Child Youth Services taking away children from good parents and getting involved in the private lives of families unceremoniously most of those notions have melted away. Children services have to act when a report is made, but for the most part I see them dealing with such reports that are unsubstantiated fairly. That’s not to say that there isn’t mistakes made. I also learned that it’s a civil service job, and there are no specialized qualifications to do it. It doesn’t pay particularly well, workers are often overloaded with cases, and many just use it as a stepping stone to a better job, so there is high turnover, meaning that few of the workers are very experienced. So mistakes are made, and there is some incompetence, but is this their fault or the fault of a system that isn’t treated as important as it should be? Just like with public defenders, attorneys that are supposed to represent the children in court are also overloaded. In our county there are 3 lawyers trying to represent 400 children. It is not possible to do your job well under such circumstances. I’ve learned that despite bad things you hear sometimes about foster families most people who do foster care are phenomenal people and make a big emotional investment into children they may care for, for up to a year and half and will not get to keep them. I can’t imagine going through that myself. Many foster families do end up adopting the children for that very reason. I’ve learned that federal child protection laws didn’t happen until the 70’s and that the very first child abuse case was tried under animal protection laws. The obsession over the rights of the unborn continue in this country while those that are born are overlooked. I am convinced that if we put our compassion into making sure that every citizen was treated humanely, abortions would drop at an alarming rate.

The case I was assigned is a sad one, although perhaps by far not the worst. And I guess it goes without saying that any case of child abuse or neglect will be a sad one. I can’t describe the case in a high enough detail so that it could be recognized so I will simply give vague details which I am sure are not uncommon. We have one child just over a year old, we have a father with a criminal past addicted to heroin. We have a mother addicted to heroin who went into early labor while on heroin and had a newborn baby going through withdrawal symptoms for opiates. A baby who would later die at the age of 8 months due to an accidental death. We have parents who are not married. We have parents who do not have their own home, their own phone number. We have a mother who does not even have a job, and a father who is just trying to make ends meet. Neither of them have enough money to support themselves let alone children. There are many who may already be judging these parents, and I do not disagree that there is a reason that their children were taken away from them. This is not a mistake. This is not government overreach. This is making sure a child has a safe environment to grow up in. Addiction has taken them, and they cannot seem to get out of it. They have made less and less visits over time with their remaining child, and at the last court hearing didn’t even show up.

But one of your jobs as a CASA is to gather information about the parents and part of that is a little bit of snooping on their Facebook profile. When I saw pictures of the mother it was clear she was just a child. Barely out of high school. She had pictures of her with her children. There were smiles, and genuine happiness. Pictures like any family might have and they were beautiful. In notes taken by Child Youth Services workers there were noted about how the mother sincerely said how much she loved her son. As a child of an addict myself it reminded me of my situation in a lot of ways, although heroin is a much harsher drug than alcohol, that there are two separate truths to the life of the addict. As I look at the pictures I see the same love that I have in my pictures with my child. I know they are filled with it at least at certain moments as much as I am. But a portion of their life, thoughts, and physical actions are also governed by heroin. Perhaps a bigger portion now. And as I look at a picture of someone who is a child herself, and who has a mother who is also a heroin addict I have to admit that I cried and wondered what chance did she have but to follow down the same dark path. Where does it end? How do we break the chain? Even as I have compassion for the innocent child to protect them from a life of having heroin addicted parents, who will have compassion for these parents? Is there any hope for them? Will they have their lives turned around? Just 10 years ago the mother herself might have been a case for the courts if anybody had bothered to report the destructive actions of her mother. There is an ocean of pain out there, and it feels like trying to tear down a mountain with a small rock hammer. The only answer it seems is more hammers. I have no idea how to convince people to pick one up.

There are 6 months left before the case comes to a close, likely too little time for the parents to get their act together enough to keep their remaining child. There are already other family members willing to adopt and give the child a stable and happy home. The child is just a few months older than my son. Sweet with a beautiful laugh and I am glad that his odds for a better life have gone up, but I am certain his struggles are not over. At some point he will wonder who his parents are. He will have to wrestle with the idea of why he was abandoned by his parents and whether or not there was just something inherently wrong with him. I hope that he is young enough now to not let thoughts override who he will grow up to be under his new adoptive parents. I hope he will forgive and know that he is his own man someday and is not destined to continue the cycle. I hope he will know good love.

	Chris Purves on To Allie: Year 5
	Bela Johnson on To Allie: Year 5
	Helen Khan on To Allie: Year 5
	jimoeba on To Allie: Year 5
	Swarn Gill on To Allie: Year 5

Cloak Unfurled

Tag: Children