Today my son showed me art work he'd done and the most striking element of one piece was where he'd written "And you thought I was crazy!" surrounded by images and words of love. There was something very visceral about it, a kind of courageous defiance to it. I understood it on so many levels, but the level I understood it on the most was in my own experience of that same phenomenon.
His art work brought me back to a time when I was about his age and did my own meaning making through art. I used to draw phoenixes over and over again, making each more personally my own, and putting quotes around them that echoed my reaction to the world. I believed in (and still do) the power of transformation, which took the form of the metaphor of the phoenix, rising from its ashes.
At the time I did this, there was absolutely nothing in my environment that would have given rise to such an idea. There was no reason for it. What I saw around me was quite the opposite and my courageous defiance had to do with believing in something in the absence of proof. I believed that people could transform themselves and rise from the ashes. I didn't know how it would happen, or what it would require, but I knew it to be an absolute truth in my life.
A funny thing happened as I grew up. I began to live my values to the degree where my own transformative process has been an impetus for me to help others, and even to be an inspiration to others, oddly enough. I never really wanted to inspire others, I just wanted to live a life consistent with something that was an absolute. I still am.
I reflect on my son's artwork and his own evolving absolute value, and I can relate, from the perspective that everyone thought I was crazy, too. It's amazing what crazy faith in a core value can do for a life, though. In his case, his relates to love. I think he means romantic love of the steadfast and undying kind. He may not see it modeled in his current environment, but it's enough for me that he believes in such a love as an absolute value. If he can imagine it, he can manifest it in his own life. I suspect he'd like me to believe in it too, based upon his insistence I watch every romantic comedy in existence with him.
What strikes me as endearing is the recognition that he shares with me the common bond of a sort of courageous defiance of "what is," a kind of blind trust in something. I nodded in admiration of his work, and silently contemplated that the moment you allow the circumstances to define you, you've lost the game.
If in his life, he holds the belief in love in some fashion, I think he'll enjoy himself as much as I have in my path of transformation. I appreciate his defiance of what exists so long as he can contemplate what is yet to be in a positive way. I can model for him the power of transformation and he can model for me the steadfast belief in love as a commitment that does not end. The place where we converge in our thinking is kind of magical.
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Oleander Main Related to Field Mice
Oleander Main is related to field mice, DNA reports confirm.
On the news this week they've been talking about a Supreme Court ruling that people who generate DNA forensic reports need to testify in court cases where their reports are presented. I've actually had several DNA tests done. I fondly refer to it as sending my spit to Utah, because that's where one analyzing facility is. I've also sent my spit to Florida. I can spit pretty far when I set my mind to it.
Actually what they call it isn't sending your spit, but a buccal cheek swab. Anyway, in the Main family, we've had this family story that we're really descended from hawks. They told me we used to fly around in circles back in the day. Of course, not everyone in the extended Main family believes this. So of course, I had to find out.
Sure enough, the results came back and through CODIS forensic profiling of the autosomal DNA testing, they determined that we are, in fact descended from hawks. However, it also indicated a field mice admixture that was particularly troublesome. I didn't know what to make of it, since hawks are birds of prey, and, regrettably, field mice are sometimes their dinner.
I pondered this for a spell, romantically imagining the bond that formed between my hawk and field mice ancestors. How did they go from "You're my lunch!" to forging a bond that would give me such a unique heritage? I imagined that they had to hide their love from one another, lest they be ridiculed or persecuted for their cross-species love.
Of course, I checked the census records, which do not say that any of my ancestors were either hawks or field mice. They record the Main family heritage as being strictly horse. Now, we do have a lot of horses in the family, and I look more horse than anything. I can't even begin to imagine how the horse fell in love with the hawk/field mouse ancestor. But stranger things have happened.
Now my father, he LOOKED very hawk like, and back in the day, farmers used to take out their guns whenever they found him flapping around their chicken coops. Or so I was told. As for me, I favor my maternal side in terms looks. They all look like horses. But I think I take after my father's hawk like personality. It particularly shows when I'm swooping in to make a kill. Startles the heck out of them, given that they don't expect horses to swoop.
But the field mice issue is another matter entirely. When I got the results, I was stunned. I talked to a field mouse I had just met when visiting NYC for a meeting, and told him I discovered I have field mouse in me.
Here's where it gets interesting. He said it made perfect sense to him. He told me that the first time I spoke, he was startled because instead of the neigh he customarily expects from a horse, he heard a squeak that somehow didn't fit. He said, "not to be offensive or anything, but your body shape is more field mouse. You're kind of egg shaped like field mouse females are."
Of course, I was startled by this news, never having given it any thought before. I mean, I like field mice same as the rest, but am I related to field mice? I've had field mice for friends all my life, we get along pretty well...
Then I told him of the confirmation of my hawk ancestry through the DNA testing. He had me get up and start flapping my arms, and had me turn my head in profile so he could get a really good view. Then he assessed, he could see it, clearly I have hawk in me.
Is it really how we look, or is it who we are? Would this new Supreme Court ruling effect me, should the hawk or field mice populace decide to take me to court? Will the people in Utah or Florida have to testify?
I don't really know what to make of it. I know the family stories, and with the DNA testing, I maintain that we are definitely hawks, and I'm going to learn more about that. But Google and the Internet just aren't the place to do it. To really understand my hawkness, I'm going to need to be around hawks, learn from hawks, and come to comprehend my hawk heritage. I also need to examine this field mice piece, and integrate that into my identity, too. It's sad that people are such haters and discredit field mice so.
It's a journey like any other. I've been raised a horse, look like a horse, and benefit from a horsist society. It's easier to pretend I don't know and just go along acting like a horse. But I won't, because there's a part of me that really loves my hawk and horse and field mouse ancestors. I wouldn't be here if they hadn't figured out a way to get along and love one another. I wish our society today was more like that.
On the news this week they've been talking about a Supreme Court ruling that people who generate DNA forensic reports need to testify in court cases where their reports are presented. I've actually had several DNA tests done. I fondly refer to it as sending my spit to Utah, because that's where one analyzing facility is. I've also sent my spit to Florida. I can spit pretty far when I set my mind to it.
Actually what they call it isn't sending your spit, but a buccal cheek swab. Anyway, in the Main family, we've had this family story that we're really descended from hawks. They told me we used to fly around in circles back in the day. Of course, not everyone in the extended Main family believes this. So of course, I had to find out.
Sure enough, the results came back and through CODIS forensic profiling of the autosomal DNA testing, they determined that we are, in fact descended from hawks. However, it also indicated a field mice admixture that was particularly troublesome. I didn't know what to make of it, since hawks are birds of prey, and, regrettably, field mice are sometimes their dinner.
I pondered this for a spell, romantically imagining the bond that formed between my hawk and field mice ancestors. How did they go from "You're my lunch!" to forging a bond that would give me such a unique heritage? I imagined that they had to hide their love from one another, lest they be ridiculed or persecuted for their cross-species love.
Of course, I checked the census records, which do not say that any of my ancestors were either hawks or field mice. They record the Main family heritage as being strictly horse. Now, we do have a lot of horses in the family, and I look more horse than anything. I can't even begin to imagine how the horse fell in love with the hawk/field mouse ancestor. But stranger things have happened.
Now my father, he LOOKED very hawk like, and back in the day, farmers used to take out their guns whenever they found him flapping around their chicken coops. Or so I was told. As for me, I favor my maternal side in terms looks. They all look like horses. But I think I take after my father's hawk like personality. It particularly shows when I'm swooping in to make a kill. Startles the heck out of them, given that they don't expect horses to swoop.
But the field mice issue is another matter entirely. When I got the results, I was stunned. I talked to a field mouse I had just met when visiting NYC for a meeting, and told him I discovered I have field mouse in me.
Here's where it gets interesting. He said it made perfect sense to him. He told me that the first time I spoke, he was startled because instead of the neigh he customarily expects from a horse, he heard a squeak that somehow didn't fit. He said, "not to be offensive or anything, but your body shape is more field mouse. You're kind of egg shaped like field mouse females are."
Of course, I was startled by this news, never having given it any thought before. I mean, I like field mice same as the rest, but am I related to field mice? I've had field mice for friends all my life, we get along pretty well...
Then I told him of the confirmation of my hawk ancestry through the DNA testing. He had me get up and start flapping my arms, and had me turn my head in profile so he could get a really good view. Then he assessed, he could see it, clearly I have hawk in me.
Is it really how we look, or is it who we are? Would this new Supreme Court ruling effect me, should the hawk or field mice populace decide to take me to court? Will the people in Utah or Florida have to testify?
I don't really know what to make of it. I know the family stories, and with the DNA testing, I maintain that we are definitely hawks, and I'm going to learn more about that. But Google and the Internet just aren't the place to do it. To really understand my hawkness, I'm going to need to be around hawks, learn from hawks, and come to comprehend my hawk heritage. I also need to examine this field mice piece, and integrate that into my identity, too. It's sad that people are such haters and discredit field mice so.
It's a journey like any other. I've been raised a horse, look like a horse, and benefit from a horsist society. It's easier to pretend I don't know and just go along acting like a horse. But I won't, because there's a part of me that really loves my hawk and horse and field mouse ancestors. I wouldn't be here if they hadn't figured out a way to get along and love one another. I wish our society today was more like that.
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