42

What is the meaning of life? Why are we here? What is our purpose? What is the significance of the number 42? Look no further friends of the internet. Zachary has it all figured out.

**double click image below to open video in youtube**

Cup of Thanks

I was feeling bored so I started thinking about how the environmental crisis would never be solved by mere practice alone because it needed to be accompanied by a revolution in consciousness but I wasn't sure if the revolution in consciousness would alter behavior or if changing behavior first would usher in the revolution in consciousness. Okay, I was bored AND feeling depressed.

Then Zachary started guzzling a glass of water.

See, Zach performs everyday acts with an intensity that tends to attract my attention. He just tipped his head back and- gulp gulp gulp gulp. Then he went and did that magic little thing kids do where they perform a sweetly simplistic act all shot through with profundity and ancient wisdom.

He pulled the tiny purple cup from his lips and made that exaggerated "Ahhhhh" refreshed noise. He held it 12 inches away from his face and admired it with sparkling eyes and a delighted smile.

He made me smile.

I think the cup smiled too.

Zachary's smile was not limited by the bounds of his face. Rather, he created an atmosphere that smiled. Everything in his orbit smiled with him. He set the cup on the table, leaned into it, and said earnestly:

"Thank you, Cup."

Lets step back for a moment: The animistic world, wherein all objects have souls and personality, has long been replaced by a world full of stupid dead objects. Scientific View elbowed its way into being the way things really are. But there is a price to pay for being so damn right.

We could stand to learn a few things from pagans and children- The cup contained the substance which quenched Zachary of his thirst. And for this, he was grateful and found the cup worthy of speech and good manners. Soon, for Zach, the cup will be stripped of its personified traits and be replaced by a hunk of dead plastic.

We call that cognitive development. Growing up. He'll have achieved a more complex level of maturity and he'll consequently score higher in terms of reality testing.

But imagine what kind of world we'd live in if we were all so grateful for Cups. What if we all thanked the chair for so dutifully embracing us after a long day on our feet? The kitchen table deserves your praise! It is not only that which holds your dinner aloft, but it also binds your family around it. What would happen to these various environmental crises if our notion of what is to be respected extended beyond a small handful of people? How would the world look? How would we act? Perhaps sorting and taking out the recycling wouldn't be such a chore or a hassle. It might suddenly be the least we could do. To excitedly walk these things out to the curb toward the next chapter of their service.

Thank you Zachary for reminding me, once again, of my foolish arrogance. I once believed that parents raised children. But it's not true. Children raise us.

My Own Little God

The hardest part about having kids, hands down, is the way they botch up all your plans. Just a minute. It's Zachary. He wants some scrambled eggs.

Okay. I'm back. You see there? It's not like it was hard to make scrambled eggs. The actual event of making eggs isn't the hard part. The hard part is the way my plan to write this blog post clashed with Zach's need to have scrambled eggs.

"Daddy. Outside?"
"I don't know Son. Ask your mother if you can play outside. I'm kind of in the middle of trying to wri-"

"Disnand"

"No, we're not going to Disneyland right now. I'm trying to- NO! STOP IT! DON'T SIT ON THAT! YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO THE DOGS HEAD! HE'S GONNA-"

"More candy?"

"Wha-? No, you just had a piece."

There's a weird kind of psychic pain that accompanies having your plans interrupted. It's not like having someone sit on your head. But still. It hurts. Because it's your will. It's like you want to do what you want to do but the kids- they destroy that. The kids destroy what you want. Just a sec-

"Excuse me, what?"

"I love you Daddy"

"Aw, I love you too, Zachary. And guess what. I'm gonna love you even more in 10 minutes after you let me finish writing this blog post."

See? That was sweet. It's not like I'm saying my kid is terrible. The point I'm trying to make is subtle. Even being interrupted to be told that I'm loved is a sudden readjustment to my intentions and it's bracing.

When you think about it, what you want could be construed as a definition of who you are. So kids are constantly messing with who you are. Zach just knocked a glass of red juice onto the keyboard. Zach just knocked a glass of red juice onto the keyboard. Zach just knocked a glass of red juice onto the keyboard.

Shit. I have to hurry. Last night, I was reading- the boy was sleeping, but you're still never safe- and I came across this Carl Jung quote. It really hit home, so I wanted to share it with you.

To this day God is the name by which- "I'm sure it's important Zachary, but I'm right in the middle of a really cool Carl Jung quote. Gimme two minutes."- I designate all things which cross my willful path violently and recklessly, all things which upset my subjective views, plans and intentions- "I don't care that Elmo just ate a banana. Just watch your video and, please, spare me the running commentary."- and change the course of my life for better or worse.

In other words, Gods destroy what you want and mess with who you are. They do this because there's so much more- worlds and worlds- than you and what you want. And kids are more than kids. They're little gods. Honor them.

Moments

Live the moments, my fellow Papas. Put down the newspaper, look up from the laptop, turn off the cell phone. Come home early from work. Say yes to walks around the block for no reason. Enjoy the Saturday morning cartoons. Let them stay up for one more story. Rub their backs. Dance in circles.


This moment--any moment--only comes once.