Shadow Puppet Storyteller

Greiving the child in me

I have long been a fan of Cameron's The Artist's Way, and I started off this year reading it dutifully in small snatches of morning time. This morning, due to it and little nudges in daily life, I saw through to something. I am in mourning.

I am mourning the loss of childhood as it relates to me. It is not just MY childhood I'm wrapped up in. In fact, my realization did not come until I moved from thinking I needed support in mourning my own children's childhoods being left behind in the expansion into newer roles, responsibilities and questions. Then, I thought about my own transitions, and questioned how much or little had I really given up my innocence and been willing to see the world in all its diversity, or been willing to move into a more expanded idea of the world.

I'm not stunted. I assuredly have made leaps in logic beyond a child and delved spiritual depths further than many lost adult minds. However, I have also very much clung to childhood as some kind of anchor. A very encrusted, relic of an anchor.

Last year, I had to free myself from volunteer commitments that drained and consistently overextended me. One thing I stepped away from formally, yet felt expected to continue doing because few others would, was watching after any and all children that arrived weekly at my church. I really stopped making an effort teaching two years ago. When I had overt and solid reasoning for resigning control over the children's services, it took more than a year before leaders took any overt action to transition this role. And I still showed up, but that's about all I did. I began to see very quickly that I was angry still. That no one really wanted to create a program to take these children to their own spiritual field. It always felt instead like we'd be happy to leave them out in a field. (Left to their own devices, I'm sure their divinity would still find profound pleasure, but not the point really...).


...running late will readdress later.