A Turn of the Wheel
by Alan Powitz • Lynbrook, NY

Another balmy evening at the harbor, as the sun sinks slowly behind the hills across the bay. A motor boat pulls up to the dock, and a family emerges, children elated from their day out on the water. They all seem so happy, taking full advantage of the final days of summer, as the daylight begins to fade earlier with each passing day … a gentle reminder that these moments are fleeting.

A few years ago I was sitting at the top of the stairs, rolling my father’s 78’s down, watching them bounce as they hit each step. Whoops! Broke another one! Uh oh… that’s gonna hurt later. But luckily there are plenty more records to roll before Dad gets home! Okay, maybe it was more than a few years ago. I went back to that house recently, and the enormous staircase that spelled doom if you fell on it was actually only a four foot vertical drop. Alright, so maybe something like half a century has passed since then. It all compresses to a matter of minutes in retrospect. The parents who taught me to climb those stairs are gone now. Even my children have dispersed themselves to various parts of the country, leaving one last budding rock star at home. One last chance to get it right, to figure out how to parent effectively.

But I’m rapidly losing my influence. Just last year, a teen weekend in the mountains with some very cool, wise elders—half my age, but twice as smart—seemed like the perfect getaway. This year it’s totally out of the question, before the question has even left my lips. And when I push the point, I’m quickly shown how attachment—even to wisdom—makes you fall flat on your face. Flop. More painful than the staircase of death. Even more painful than my father finding the shellac shards of the beloved songs of his youth in a heap at the bottom of those stairs. My son won’t listen to me anymore. And, hypocrite that I seem to be, I’ve lost all credibility in his eyes.

I was just talking with a friend about this. How wonderful to have community to reflect with. She would like some recognition from her teenage daughter, a bit of appreciation perhaps. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so. At the meditation center I attend they speak of giving without expecting anything in return. Why? Because a gift never feels genuine if the giver wants something back from you. And if you, as the giver, don’t get that bit of appreciation—or whatever you’ve decided to need—you feel upset. “That’s the least they could do!” Insert your own begrudged expectation here.

So I’ve lost my credibility. HOORAY! Wait a minute … Hooray??? Yes. My life just got so much simpler. I thought I needed to protect my son from all of the hard knocks he might receive if he doesn’t learn everything I wish I already knew. But I can’t protect him any more. He’s asserting his independence, and will no longer hear my words. Another member of my community recently told me of a time when he was young and associating with teens involved in extremely reckless behavior. His father knew that it was impossible to keep him from his peers. All they could do was hope that he had gotten some of the words they had offered, and would use them to stay out of trouble. Maybe I can learn to allow my son to make his own mistakes, and not interfere so much with his progress … even if he intentionally makes all of the choices that seem to spell doom for him. After enough distress, he’ll probably find a way to take care of himself. That’s how I learned to walk down the stairs without meeting my fate. Stop meddling? What a concept. This leaves me free to enjoy my son without hovering, waiting for him to topple. What a gift for both of us! Maybe we can enjoy more of our time together if I step back and let him find his own way.

The family at the harbor has hoisted their boat onto the trailer, heading for home. The breeze is getting cooler, the light starting to change as autumn begins to set in. Things shift as the wheel continues to turn. It’s time to let go a little, and allow the fledglings to test their wings and fly. Appreciation may come as they distance themselves from the nest, learn a few things the hard way, and the memory of the parent in dismay at the bottom of those stairs becomes a fond reminder of the love we shared in our youth.

Alan Powitz is a therapist, using dharma principles, hypnosis, and tools derived from The Option Process and EFT, to help clients overcome fear, anger, issues with relationships, family, work, self confidence, and other life challenges. He is also a freelance writer and editor, available for all forms of corporate promotional materials. Visit his website at www.TrulyAwake.com, contact him at info@TrulyAwake.com, or by phone at 516-528-8944. See previous article online in the www.creationsmagazine.com archive, June/July 2009 issue.