Aware
SOC Writing _ 31 August 2020
Aware
Like wary, like the animal body I am. Like wild, like not mild – like the pre-mind of a child – my aware state is, mmmmm, I don’t know. The universe of awareness outside of thoughts is numbing initially, like turning a dripping tap off – surrender to everything in front of me and perceiving from a whole field, less concerned with the pell-mell of the particular, yet surprisingly concerned with the subtle and nuance. Aware of my son, his weight on my legs, his tickly hair backed onto my face, his smell of night time ablutions – and his constant small movements as he wishes to sit here – yet unable to adult sit here. Aware of my fears in the night – how fright can cause sweat in an instant – the promise of calamity befalling me – and the way it passes and in the morning is just an embarrassment. I don’t know how far my iceberg continues below the surface of my knowing – how to know what is knowable – what is valuable to plumb. His hair more in my face. He is taller now – I cannot see over his head where he is being read to. He is now angular – his soft bits being outweighed with the hard – and long and straight, not short and spongy. His energy is wild, sing songy, smashy, bashy, loving, caring, fun, playful – run in the water of the sea and get thoroughly wet in the middle of winter – with no care. Able to walk home in cold bare feet without crying, although complaining bitterly. He is me, is not me. I fear his rebellion, how he will defy me, throw things perhaps, glare at me – want what I will with hold. He is nearly 4. I am 42. We are decades apart and he will impart the new and my old as we both age in this time of tremendous human change – be my soothsayer of the future, be my canary in this mine – mine is not his and he is not mine – but in my care – in my held womb of man life – he is nourished by me – becomes a tree of himself to climb – up and down – along the roadside I fear for his life – he hates cars - we share that. Rid ourselves of all distractions and just see what happens.