What Children Know...part 4...Remembering...

To give another example of what kids know, I’ll share some of my own story…

Sometimes it helps to jumpstart one’s own remembering to learn how another person got there. 
Some of these realizations are universal in scope.  After all, we have a lot in common.  They ‘fit’. 
Some of you will relate…others will not.  We all have our differing experiences…

First sensations… First memories…

Too loud!  Too bright!  Too harsh!  I jump uncomfortably at everything.
I don’t like this place.  What is the matter with these people?! 
Why is everyone so mean to each other? 
(I feel everyone’s emotions-much of it negative)
I am getting filled up with all these bad feelings…waves that I can’t stop or block.
I have to empty myself of everyone’s bad feelings…I can’t handle all of this…
It is making me sick and nervous.  I cry.
I am afraid of these bad people…
They are stabbing each other with their eyes, punching with their smiles!
I feel like I am in an insane asylum. 
(Now how did I think in such clear terms?  But I remember thinking that quite clearly…)

 

They do ugly things to their bodies (like smoking). 
They make ugly sounds and they like it!  (fighting-swearing)
They want me to be like them, but I will not!!!  
They try to break me down to their level, but I will never go there.
I must fight.
I am soon so miserable, surrounded on all sides, that I can only dimly recall that this is not all there is, but I fight for the goodness inside me.
I must protect it, keep it alive, don’t let anyone see it or they will try to destroy it.
They take pleasure in destroying the good.  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand…  I cry.

 

Desecration is the word I use now as an adult. 
What is it in people that seeks to destroy innocence?
To slap a child that smiles or experiences too much happiness.
To give alcohol to a baby or an animal…  To inflict pain… 
To harm their bodies in so many ways? 
To ruin and mar a clean slate…
There is something evil at work in bringing a child down-in desecrating something pure. 

 

In Bali, a child’s feet never touch the ground for the 1^st year of their lives,
because it is recognized that a soul freshly arrived from heaven
will need time and gentle handling to touch this earth. 
They are lowered slowly and gently into this world…as they should be.
It is not easy to tackle this existence….especially if you are born more sensitive than some…

 

I remember vowing with all my strength that I would NEVER go down.
Even if they succeeded in breaking me or making me do bad things like lying or beating another child
I would not go all the way down.
I would resist, I would pretend…but not very much. 
I would not debase myself or let myself be debased by them. I would somehow stay clean.
I did not want their ugly, unhappy lives with all the fighting and broken down existence.
I did not like the lives they made.  I wanted no part of them.  

 

Don’t go Down, I told myself over and over…don’t go down!

 

Still when I look at people today with their mean lives, disheartened situations,
their distorted bodies, half-destroyed minds and deadened spirits,
I still see the broken down children who were not born that way. 
They were not helped into life.  They were desecrated and beaten down until no memory remains. 
Their dead eyes say so much…
They think this is who they ARE.    It is never true.  But the evidence seems overwhelming.

 

I like to think of the kirlian photography examples of a living leaf surrounding by a strong,
clear white radiance. 
When the leaf is plucked from the stem, it’s radiance diminishes somewhat. There is a little loss of life, but it is still there.
Then that leaf is torn nearly in half.  A chunk of it is missing.  The torn leaf is photographed
once more. 
The shocking thing to all who see it is that the original aura of light that surrounds the leaf
remains whole and perfect!
I think that is true of us, as well.  Life has torn some pieces, an injury occurs, sexual abuse is enacted, 
divorce and death and heartbreak take their toll, but the Original Spirit..the Life Force remains
whole and alive.
What is done TO us does not destroy or even much diminish us. 
If we hold that picture in mind we are still viable. 

As Marcus Aurelius said…"Reject your sense of injury and the injury itself disappears."

As the story goes, as a young and precocious child, I practically began speaking in sentences. 

Given my interior world, that was altogether natural. 
I thought in sentences from the start.
I thought in direct concise concepts. 
Words came later, as needed, to impress something on my waking mind. 
As a baby, I remember having very strong, clear thoughts about the world I had just entered. 
Strong opinions, too.
I remember thinking that I had landed in an asylum of sorts...a world-wide asylum
with few places of sanctuary.
I felt assaulted by the harsh noises around me.  The unbridled insensitivity of most people. 
The crudeness of life and the loutish behavior of people was a constant source of shock and dismay.
I felt a great desire to flee or at least to hide. I spent a lot of time hiding, in fact.
And a lot of time planning my escape.
My mother seemed to sense my delicate nature and she was my early refuge.
She knew what was needed...that is, until she caved in herself.
She took me aside often to reassure me and she tried to protect and nurture, even champion me.
But my dad decided that I was too sensitive and that I needed to be broken of that.
He made it into a family crusade  I was oversensitive… too pure…too fussy.  I was crazy…
Something was wrong with ME for not liking his touch (read molestation), his breath reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke, his beatings doled out daily, our inability to have 'fun' with him in the following moment when his temper was spent.    

Why was my dad so bent on destroying my sensitivity?

Well, that sensitivity was getting in his way.  I felt him.  It was easy.
We children see without meaning to.
A child’s purity just naturally irritates someone who doesn’t want to be seen.
For instance, I always knew when my dad was sneaking around with other women.  
When he was picking a fight with mom so she wouldn’t catch on to him…
or when his guilt was too much…
or when he wanted a reason to leave the house for a few hours to see yet another woman.
Innocence speaks loudly, apparently…
How was I to know?


****
On a lighter note, I was generally spared the banality of baby talk. 
Only the occasional relative or neighbor would coo over me in that strange way that they have.
I always found it ridiculous and demeaning, something to be endured.
I hated their touch, their smells, their rough handling, their horrible manners!
Why did they think they had the right to do that to me?!
I couldn’t wait to get them out of my face!

To this day I still rankle at this ill-conceived practice.  
Children should never be forced into the clutches of anyone they are uncomfortable with-
for any reason.
A parent should protect those boundaries until a person can confidently do it for themselves.
Instead, our families encourage the breaking down of those boundaries.
Untold damage often results.
It is said that 80% of us have been molested…pretty heavy stuff!   
This is where it starts...