A good friend once said to me "Try not to beat it out of them". In many variations I've thought about it. I don't think that I do, and am offended that you said it. I am not offended actually but more confused that the words and request are pointed at me. My friend and I are so close that I am shocked to hear the request.
So what does it mean? Why do you ask me this? Well, so far I have decided that it was a request to not break these horses. "Beating" is not part of the current parenting vocabulary. It isn't done, it isn't common to talk about.
So Then I'll not use the word beat. But how do I share this thought with other parents that I love? I'll change the euphemism to make it about horses I suppose. Although, there is some strange power about implying that someone who would never physically harm their child is beating the child. It causes a very unique reflection, or at least it did to me.
My friend Drew had his beautiful children at his work, and they were being 3 and 5, and he expressed to me, and parents often express to each other, that one child was unable to be controlled. So I told him about a saint that I once knew. She told me not to beat it out of them. I suppose she was right.
Horses are to be broken. Listen to the directions that I give. The reins in my hands will be heeded. I pull left, you go left. These rules you will follow and I will house you and feed you. I will care for you. You will live a better life if you'll just unquestioningly listen to my reins.
So... what? What's the point? Well, the point is that the world will beat them. You can beat them too. Even the wildest of the horses can be broken. They will be excellent at taking direction. You cannot however, break them back to being fearless and bold. You cannot beat them into being brave and daring and fierce. Yes, a parent has to parent. Just imagine though, that sometimes you let them be rude to you. Sometimes you let them act in an improper manner. Sometimes you meet their wildness with a response instead of a reaction.
It is not my place to push people around. This morning I remembered again that I should listen just a little more than I talk. How much of the conversation I command could be reduced, and I could leave a few seconds of quiet for you to share something important that is in fact just behind your tongue if only we could together allow it to be said.
It is late, I will not find visual aids for this post. Imagine for yourself a horse, or maybe a little 5 year old boy as the support image for this post.
Thanks for sharing these beautiful thoughts. "You can not beat them into being brave and daring and fierce."
ReplyDeleteAlso, soup.
ReplyDeleteI want to be fierce, bold, daring, and brave. I want to run with the wild horses. Today I will try to run with rather than face off against. You and I, we are okay, we faced off a few times, but on really magical days, we simply ran together, and together "we showed them."
ReplyDeletePS: I am trying not to resent your writing, because I feel an ache in my core, and my eyes are sweaty,tickling my cheeks as a creek begins to trickle from my eye to my ear. I think I'll name that part of the creek "the grief reach."
ReplyDeleteI'm going to get some food then put on my bra. That is what grief sometimes needs.
ReplyDeleteNice reminder that listening is powerful. I appreciated the sage advice Arta once gave me that children are doing the best they can. When I start from that premise it is easier to know the futility of trying to "beat it out of them." In that case the "beating it out of them" tends to break them more than mold them.
I've heard those words before. When I'm told "Im trying" it frustrates me. But when I tell myself that they're trying it calms me and I know that I just have to try a little harder to bring them the rest of the way. Some work to do internally on this I suppose...
ReplyDelete