20 November 2005

The Family Heart

This is a reply to Tim's comments yesterday, which I appreciate very much.

I think the greatest gift you can give your children is the example of honestly following your heart, even if that means leaving them. Also I think the number of adults out there damaged because one of their parents left home to sincerely find themselves is miniscule, especially when compared to the number of adults damaged by parents who remained in a stale relationship for the sake of the children. If you dearly love your spouse and children and yet still feel drawn to spiritual work, even if that means wrenching yourself away from them, then I implore you to take that path because there are so few people like you, and the world desperately needs more of you. Also I'm not sure that damage is such a bad thing. Greatness always, I suspect, grows from neurosis of some sort. It's the irritating grain of sand that produces the pearl. Energy and power in Tai Chi are generated through conflict and friction, and it is the same in anything – there have to be contrary forces that wrap around each other to produce results, whether it be your legs thrusting against gravity, your waist turning in both directions at once, or your purity struggling through your perversions. Battle is the fact of life. Yielding is the acknowledgment of that. The yielder knows with all his heart that the battle is everything and so it's not even a matter of entering – if the battle is all there is then he's already in it – how can he be elsewhere? Not all battles need to be fought with an axe in your hand, and really yielding is the art of winning the fight before it seems to have begun, but to be successful in yielding you need to reject all securities and sureties other than the thrust of your heart. The teacher is vital because they show you your heart. For the very talented student this may happen on the first meeting, but for others it may take 30 years or more of undistracted toil and labour. The important thing is to stay with your teacher as long as it takes.

Once, when my son was a baby, I arrived home from Tai Chi in a foul mood, entered the living room and sat in a chair opposite my son and spouse, fuming. My son, who adored me, struggled off his mother's lap and started to crawl towards me, face beaming. I looked up and glared at him at which he suddenly stopped, never having seen me in such a state. I then watched him look back at his mother and then towards me. At that instant I saw him make probably the most important decision of his life – he threw off his apprehension, the smile returned, his heart reached out and he continued towards me. I then picked him up, transformed as much by his courage as his energy and the evening turned out wonderfully. What made this experience all the more poignant for me was the knowledge that pretty much the same thing happened to me when I was a baby, yet I had chosen to cling whimpering to my mother. In a way my last 20 years of Tai Chi have been my valiant attempt to break that habit.

My abiding memory of childhood is the unhappiness of my parents. My mother tells me it all stemmed from my father not actually liking his work. He always wanted to pack in his job and branch out into self-employment and self-searching, but felt bound by duty to support his young family. My mother always implored him to follow his heart and insisted that she'd far rather live in abject poverty with someone who was fulfilled and happy than with the person who earned a decent wage and yet came home miserable and abusive each evening. My father could never pluck up the courage to do it, not until he'd earned enough money to give himself a comfortable cushion to fall back on, by which time it was far too late because the family had split up and he had lost heart anyway.

If one of you in a relationship has heart and vision then all of you should follow it. That vision should become the core of the family heart. However, if the other spouse feels resentful of that vision, or feels you should give it up for the sake of the family then for God's sake leave them because staying is not going to do anyone any good. What are the children going to learn? How to destroy heart and soul.

1 comment

Karen Puerta and Tim Walker said...

I suppose like you I have personal experience, which informs my view to a certain extent.

My belief is that if you make a choice, and it involves other people, particularly children, then you need to stick to that choice unless it becomes absolutely clear that remaining is more damaging. For example, if your partner is violent.

If you chose to have a family you need to work at it and give them the commitment that they deserve. The fact is we live in a world where we are taught by implication (and overtly) that you don't need to stick at things. Instant gratification. This gives us all an opt out.....we can go off and do what we want. Find another relationship, go to a different country.... The spiritual path seems like a version on this, which whilst a better option still seems rather convenient. And whatever the reason puzzled and hurt children are usually left behind. Children need both parents.

It's amazing what can be achieved with relationships if you really work at them and really give - including the 'pass' to go and focus on tai chi.

Children are damaged by living in families where there is discord but more children are damaged by family break-up. Look at the state of the children of this nation, with the 4th highest divorce rate in the world.

My Dad's heart wasn't in his relationship with my mother. Looking at photos of him now I can see a very distant look in his eyes. He was with my mum and me and yet he was miles away. Yet more than anything I wanted my parents to be together and on the rare occasions when they hugged I would fill up with warmth. They split eventually, when I was in my teens, but I wish that had not been the case.

My partner's previous relationship was with a very violent man. They had two children together and those children witnessed terrible violence. The younger one was five and the older one eleven, when we became a family. Both were traumatised. There had been much disruption to their previous family life. The older one has never really recovered from the trauma and is a very damaged adult - it was too late for her although I'm hopeful she'll gradually get her life together. The younger one has had eleven years of a kind of stability and has turned into a very fine person, kind and very open hearted. There have been moments when I have felt like upping and going my own way but I haven't, and I'm glad of that because the stability that exists now would never have come about.

Thanks for responding.