when i’m grow’d up im gonna be a hobo. | September 12, 2011

So I am on the road. Coasting through existence on this intuition based path through yet another abyss. Abyss’… they’re kind of like mirrors for the soul that initiate critical reflection through a magical lens “that faithfully duplicates all appearances”. I, as of late, have only been able to reflect on the animal that came from my womb. The beautiful ray of sun, my son. Perhaps it’s because it has been too long since I have kissed his forehead ’til his eyes close in relief, perhaps because I am in the presence of two of the most awe inspiring children in this world, Fair and Whitmen(spelling clarified by the fella himself), perhaps it is just what step our collective socialization is at, reconstructing the concept of nurturing.

I have been contemplating the concept of safety, since that is what parents are socially? innately? instinctively? supposed to provide children. Or at least that is what our laws currently mandate, but it is worth considering what sort of things the state would consider endangering and also, what the state would consider “safe”. I have come to conclude in many instances my opinions of what is safe and wholesome for my son is not in line with what the state considers safe and wholesome… which is in many ways a frightening thing for a parent to write, let alone have passionate beliefs about. It is one thing to revolt against banks to resist the poison that is capitalism but to contest societal mandated norms in relation to the upbringing of children, when the person you parent with may not hold as critical of an eye to the ways of the masses or at least not choose to resist with the same sense of immediacy.

These are scary realms. This brings me to the cross road of parenting in ways that I know in my heart to be true and fundamentally enriching verse balancing maintaining custody of my son through out all other cross roads that may come my way. There are many life choices that I can not and simply will not compromise, especially as a mother. I must resist FOR my son. I must take my life style seriously.

The reality of this society, this world of governance, this police state is single parents are on the chopping block. Jeff could be on the chopping block with me, merely because laws are set in my favor. He could have very little room to parent in the ways he believes in. I do not put him in this position of coarse, even though our parenting styles are very different. I am simply not the omniscient parent. I realize this. This humble realization parallels my uncompromising passion. My uncompromising passion, in turn, places me on the chopping block.

As a parent, am I frankly not allowed to disagree with the state? Compliance or my first born son? Is the state the rumpelstiltskin of the custody of my son?

Cause here’s how I sees it.

Safety. This concept we beat to a pulp like cops in Greece. Safety is made tangible in this society by transforming it into words. Safety First! Safety saves, accidents costs you! Take time out for Safety! But the words are just words, we aren’t more safe. Accidents have and will always happen.

One can not regulate or mandate safety into existence. Laws and slogans are the displacement of collective responsibility. Safety, like most concepts, is created through conscious action only. Danger can never be shut out, only traversed. When danger is traversed through creation and not calculated apprehension a levitation of momentary freedom is manifested, the genuine nature trumping the fleeting sensation of the moment.

Gentle cuddles on rail yard ties.

Salmon and avocado in vagabond bunkers.

I don’t buy it. This safety thing.

Parenting is far more than safety. It is knowing the risks to take to help your child traverse danger through their own decision making skills. It is fighting ruthlessly to maintain their ability to make their own decisions.


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    Mother Lover. <3

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