Use History Without Letting it Use You

"My pain. A climate my family had to breathe."

I had three boys at the ages of 23, 27, and most recently my latest at 33. It was always times like these (major milestones) that have me reflect on my own history and experiences; that persona I foolishly carry and protect as a truth.

I reflect on the condition of man; on me and my own father’s relationship. We may be experiencing our histories separately; much like me and mine. For my father, I am thankful. Few in their lifetime experience a rare condition that plagues the human man. I am one of those, having spent time as an imperfect a son, and an imperfect father (is anybody perfect?). I remember as I grew up, I became less shielded from the families’ imperfections (my curious nature did not help the pace of these experiences). These experiences fed one thing, that curiosity.

I did not want my own children to believe character is ‘inherited’ and that curiosity should be ignored, that any emotion should be avoided. Attention, reactions, and thoughtfulness can adapt. It is important to know that a man’s worth is not measured based on their output, but on how he chooses his role in our history; memories are all that remain, after all. When the average man’s output is threatened, they become angry and then compulsive. This is another condition of man; an avoidant strength

Children don’t simply learn philosophy from books. They learn philosophy from atmospheres.

My pain; a blow to my ego, a fatal health scare and a lingering injury. All of this going on and I just kept circling back on one thing. My output; my earning power. Having these discussions are difficult; discussions held internally can be the most detrimental at times.

I’m not immortal, and it was shown clearly to me. How I manipulate the memory of my loved ones matters.

I put laws in place to manipulate myself into positive decisions; I am only human, after all.

I stopped doing three things:

1.        I stopped issuing verdicts under pain.

2.        I stopped using sarcasm as a shield.

3.        I stopped calling my denial a “strength”.

I grew to observe; I became safe.

Sometimes, I’ll notice as the Cape Breton waters shift, and the winds calmed; a beautiful memory of me to be.