In one of his poems, William Wordsworth famously remarked, “The child is father of the man.”
I had read this line years ago. But now, when I look at it again I'm not only in a better position to appreciate its import, I can perhaps make my own little additions to the very notion as well.
As an unabashedly proud father of a 14-month-old son and a seven-year-old daughter, I have spent countless wonderful hours with them—loving, learning and laughing enough to feel a little preachy.
So, my dear poet, not only is the child father of the man, the child is the teacher, guru and even God to man.
If the smiling face of a young child does not belong to God Himself, what else does?
If the whooshing cooing gurgling bubbling sounds of the child do not come from God's own throat, what else does?
If their little innocent pranks and pulls are not rooted in God's mischievous mind, what else could be?
In India I've heard a lot of old folks say, “Children are the embodiment of God.” Not only do I second them but I think the reverse could equally be true: God is made possible by children.
But let me not take you too far into the domain of theistic or ontological questions. Let me only share some of the most vital lessons my kids have taught me.
The first and foremost lesson—though I'm yet to fully imbibe it (revive it, rather)—is to always take delight in the little things around us. The melodious sounds of a toy, the vibrant colors of a book, the playful dance of a piece of paper in a whorl of light and air. Delight in anything that is pleasing to the eye, sweet to the ear, cool to the touch. Delight in anything that is new, exciting, mysterious, inviting...
They have made me discover the beauty of the world and take delight in it through their experience. So whenever my senses are numbed by the greedy and possessive ugliness of the world (and they often do), I need only look at the kiddos laugh and play and share their delight.
The second vital lesson is simplicity of being. A child just wants to be. Period. The thought of emulation or rivalry or the blind pursuit of a vocation is thrust upon them in their formative years. Have you ever heard children spontaneously say what they want to be? It is the parents or other people who usually put the nasty idea of being or trying to be someone else into their fragile brain.
True, sometimes the children say they want to be whatever they fancy at any given moment. But these whims keep changing and no true picture emerges until at least teenage. I've learned—and continue to learn—that we must let kids be. Our role is only to help them identify their true calling and facilitate their journey as much as we can. The rest is up to them.
Another great learning is that, tied as we have become to our clockwork schedules, we must sometimes allow ourselves to be yanked away from the tyranny of time—and be thrown cheerily into the timeless playfulness that is immanent in all children. (And in all Nature indeed.)
By simply throwing their arms around me, or clinging to my legs when I’m late for work, my children have often taught me, without saying a single word, how infinitely better it is to be a willing slave to love than to be a forced prisoner of time.
That is not to say that we do not meet our professional commitment or neglect work we are paid for—but just to reiterate that one thing cannot be a substitute for something entirely different and certainly much more important. (Unless your only priority is to chase greenbacks, in which case you shouldn't be reading this article.)
Perhaps one of the most important lessons children have taught me is forgiveness. They just keep forgiving me for my innumerable imbecilities. No matter how cross I’m with my daughter or how much I’ve scolded her (my son is too young to be scolded, though my wife disagrees :), she hugs me with an unconditional love that puts my tyranny to shame—and makes me want to become a better-behaved father next time around.
And these are not the only lessons. As I continue my parental journey, I'm sure there will be countless occasions for me to learn, unlearn and re-learn life's most vital lessons from children.
And so my education goes on...
-o-
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