I've always seen humanity as broken – all I have to do is read the news for five minutes, drive through the city, look at our leaders, watch a divorce up close, not to mention sit quietly with myself, and it's all there: poverty, violence, selfishness, lies. Gross. It's enough to choke out the rest.
But in the last few weeks, I've been struck by the rest, by humanity's light and brightness. I followed the story of the soccer boys trapped in the Thailand caves play-by-play, and was bowled over by the divers risking their lives, one losing his life, the rallying and sheer work of so many to rescue strangers. And then I was struck by my own surprise at their self-sacrificing care.
I'm sitting on the beach right now with my two girls. The sand and ocean are packed: small bodies, large bodies, dark bodies, light bodies bare bums (so many thoughts about that as I raise a 12 year old boy -- for another time) and covered. We are all here for the delight of it. Several kites dance overhead for the fun of seeing a red octopus or blue superhero fly. People jump and float over the waves, masks and goggles for san dollar hunting, a white-haired grandmother paddles in full snorkel gear with kids: this is a place of play.
A few weeks ago I watched Hotel Transylvania (and the sequels) for the first time and I felt this same marveling appreciation. Dozens and dozens of people made this movie just for silliness and the delight of seeing a green translucent blob get squirrels and sticks and fish lodged in it without pain. The mummy personifies joy with all his spontaneous dancing and singing -- the whole thing is fun(ny) and creative.
Entering the world of children story tellers (SCBWI) has reinforced my delight* in humans! Thousands of writers are telling stories because of the power and the light of a story, of a character we love, for pure hilarity, to help us knit sense out of our own feelings, to give us maps as we navigate days. The kids and I just finished reading Steve Bramucci's The Danger Gang and the Pirates of Borneo! I heard him speak recently and instantly became a fan. He's funny, honest, shameless and full of shame at the same time -- he brings it all. And as we read the book, the wild beauty of Borneo came to life through fencing, papaya-pelting-orangutans, and blooming friendships.
Some days I feel scared (terrified) about my kids getting older and moving into this world. I’ve been feeling that acutely with the end of school year shifts, especially having kids in 5th grade and junior high -- OLD and moody, a little sassy and very sorry about it, curious, social, and sometimes emotionally unstable; the thought of setting theses lacking-prefrontal-cortex creatures free to navigate by their own judgment makes me a little panicky. Or at least sad. It's a new season of having to let them try and fail and discover, rather than simply protect them.
I *know* it's the order of parenting and growth and growing up, but it's HARD, which makes me doubly grateful for these summer weeks of seeing the sparkling fun and bravery of people (especially adults). Rather than focusing on what might happen when Silas ever likes a girl (who is not wearing a complete bathing suit bottom), I am wondering about the beauty of who these kids are, and how they’ll bring their own humor and sense of wonder to life for other people.
*note:
I use the word "delight" quite a few times here because it's the only word I can think of that captures the whimsy-joy I am talking about. Merriam Webster's definition helps (the squealing -- pure happy response):
delight: 1
: a high degree of gratification or pleasure : joy
I use the word "delight" quite a few times here because it's the only word I can think of that captures the whimsy-joy I am talking about. Merriam Webster's definition helps (the squealing -- pure happy response):
delight: 1
: a high degree of gratification or pleasure : joy
- children squealing in delight
