sábado, 23 de marzo de 2013
I was on the bus the other day reading a marvelous book when taken over by a thought that grew into the following text. I wanted to share it with you. It's not what I would call polished, but it's mine and I own myself blunt or polished or whatever.
A word of warning: sometimes I talk (or write) funny/weird when I feel philosophical or just plain silly, and this was one such time. I could edit my writting to make it more "normal," but then again why would I want to? Please bear with me.
On Devils and Angels
It is said that devils walk where angels fear to tread. Yet what distinguishes the two? For spiritual truth left aside, aren't we all devils and angels at the same time?
I for one wish no one harm but am far from being a saint. In my human state I sometimes hurt unknowingly and without malice out of carelessness or ingnorance, sometimes have the reaction of a wounded animal that bites back. Though motive and context may be understood, I'm afraid a hurt can't be justified by these, and by this judgement mankind and I as a whole are found at fault.
Some more devilish, some more angelic. The proportion may vary but these two aren't mutually exclusive. Not quite a devil. Not quite an angel. But a woman. A man. A being. While our humanness condemns us because of our nature, we are also blessed because of it. We are capable of friendship. Of goodness. Of love. And more.
Truth is hard to find and hard to give when a heart has been hurt, and yet the noblest most angelic actions always involve reaching towards another heart. To lend a hand, share an insight, give a kiss or share a mind while at the same time being vulnerable to hurt or be hurt... what is more human than this?
Thus, I embrace the angel in me in to the same degree as my devil as to avoid madness and tearing in myself and others. And really it would be worse for me if I didn't.
And that was that.
Remember Cracks on the Sidewalk? It's kinda the same, my bad side belongs to me as much as my good side. If I try and deny it and pretend I'm all sweets and flowers, it'll be like sweeping dust under the bed. At some time it'll come out and bite my behind you know? Like my sweet Edmund Pevensie once said, "If there's a wasp in the room, I'd like to be able to see it."
We all have our inner "demons," negative traits that we are prone to have. Some can be harmfull, others not so much, but even something as dumb as being lazy will hinder you in life, and there are more dangerous vices. There are also times when your particular "devil" can be a blessing in disguise for yourself or others. For example, a rebel that stands agains a cruel government would be mistakenly called a devil by some.
Be carefull with what is "acceptable" or not. Does society dictate what is good and what is bad? Make sure that your criteria is yours, and make sure to debug what feeds it as well.
The only person that can legitimately judge you is you. So weight your actions and your motives, keep a short leash on what need be, but be kind to yourself. Keep your angel close and your devils closer.
domingo, 17 de marzo de 2013
I took Belle Fille to the park the other in hopes off getting her tired enough for a nap on our return (I might have been the one needing the nap if truth be told). She was full of energy and since there's a playground right behind the park we went there afterwards until a van pulled up and unloaded half a dozen elementary kids. We weren't exactly exiled, but left before my toddler got hurt with all the crazed kids running around.
Since my child was reluctant on going back to the house we returned to the park, but by now I was spent. So I put her on top of this little hill.
Now, this is a very advantageous little hill. It's long enough for a small child to walk along it, but a bit steep and strewn with pebbles and the like so if the kid isn't careful the odds of falling down are pretty high. Oh, and the hill's bordered with some painful looking lava rocks. And like I said, this is where I let my kid play. On purpose.
Where was I? At the bottom of the hill of course. Near enough to stop her from falling into the harsh rocks. Far enough for her to have to walk a bit to hand me these weeds that only grew on top of the hill which I asked for several times. Bluntly put, I had her coming to and fro up and down the hill to give me these weeds I supposedly needed.
Why you might ask? To teach her a wordless lesson. If she rushed and was careless, she would fall on the pebbles. And she did fall plenty of times. At first. But after seven or so stumbles (I caught her a couple times before she hit the big rocks and actually got hurt) she started to be more careful and skilled until it got to the point where she no longer fell down while going up and down the before mentioned hill.
This is how Belle Fille learns best. If I warn her about something, she'll probably ignore me. If I sit her down and explain to her why she has to be careful, she might actually listen to me. But if I explain why she has to be careful and I let her try it on her own I can rest assured she will learn the lesson.
Sure, she might fall down a couple times, that's why I stay close to break any dangerous stumble. But I won't always be there to help her go up and down a hill, nor will I always be able to hold her hand every time there's an obstacle during her life. So I prefer she learns to be careful and to trust her own abilities as a child now, and not later when the going get's rough.
That means watching her fall down a couple times while she gets the hang of things.
I know it's for the best (it has to be), but the occassional bystander (older moms, sheesh) will give me a self-righteous look and I can almost hear them thinking that they'll be better parents than me because I let my little girl fall down and pick herself up.
Does that make me a bad mom? Nah I don't think so.
viernes, 8 de marzo de 2013
I sing. A lot. But this post isn't about me singing, it's about Belle Filles' new favorite song. Rememember when my little girl was teeny tiny and I sung her a lullaby? Well Muñequita linda isn't her favorite anymore (though we still sing it a lot). Now it's "Una Rata Vieja." This is an old, old song too, mexican lore, and though it doesn't strike as a tune for a child, it's sung to little children.
Una rata vieja
An old rat
Would iron clothes
Por planchar su falda
For ironing her skirt
Se quemó la cola.
She burnt her tail.
Se puso pomada
She put some balm on
Se amarró un trapito
She tied a cloth on herself
Y a la pobre rata
And the poor rat
Le quedó un rabito.
Was left a little stump.