Proof of Life

I got a video of my son this morning. It was there when I woke up. He was paddling his canoe and he looked so much older. He was apologizing for his behavior before he left and telling me how anxious he was about going. I totally understand that, we were both on edge for sure. And I am sure that my anxiety was nothing compared to his.

It has not escaped me how much he could feel abandoned. I literally took him to the far reaches of Alaska and dropped him off. His dad supportive but absent. I am the one that moved him there and left him. I wish I could believe that he was enjoying himself and settling into himself. And I do on some level, otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken him.

When I watched and re-watched the video today, I saw him older and more settled. I saw a difference in him, although I am completely aware that it might just be wishful thinking. We see what we want to see with our kids, well, with many things. And I am not naive enough to believe that in less than a week he has changed all that much.

I am very grateful for the video though. To see that he is in fact alive and well. I don’t really believe that he isn’t, it is just good to get confirmation that his life, changed as it is, is growing on him. And he looked good, older, more mature, perhaps the wildness of Alaska taming his wayward spirit.

He also looked settled as he paddled an unstable vessel, perhaps the video metaphorical. He finding stability in himself as all of his surroundings are in fact in flux, unstable and changing daily. As opposed to when he lived at home and was provided every comfort and a ton of stability, his spirit and soul flying off in every direction, ego directing all that he did and said and was. Perhaps there is spiritual stability in the unstableness of nature? I think so, I know I find it every time I am removed from the life that I usually live and spend even an hour in the wild. The wild calms my soul and gives me passage to another part of me that is not anxious and demanding. The wild calms my spirit in a way that nothing else can.

It kind of feels like my son is just now beginning to live life...that the time before was anything but living. It was surviving and now that he is actually surviving, he has been granted access to really living? I don’t know, but I hope he writes it down. I am going to send him a journal and a letter with the hope that he will begin to find some comfort in the written word. That he might find solace and comfort and internal peace from the whizzing mind and spinning soul. That words, written and shared might bring him comfort...I know that without them I would perish.

I am filled with hope this morning. Less tearful than I was the last few days. It was good to see him solid, living, if even floating on the rocky shores. I can’t wait to hear all that he has seen, all that he has done. I want to send him books and journals and give him this lifeline, but I also have to acknowledge that he is not me, and he may find only irritation where I find comfort and joy. I will send them anyway, because perhaps now he is open to all that was closed off before.

Today I will remember to honor my own proof of life. I am here, living, and will endeavor to be present in my body. I will attempt to share myself in an authentic way with those I encounter, and send loving kindness to my son who suffers so and to all those other beings that are adrift in their own misery. Life is proof that we are here, but living is a whole other matter, some people go on for all of their days and never really live one single moment. Fear causing them to curtail and miss so much. Today I will live the proof of life by being here, sharing what I can and listening to the wisdom that surrounds me. I can only pray that my son be able to do the same.