Little One, I’ve been in an odd mood lately. I’m not really sure why, but I have this weird longing to go somewhere beautiful, get lost in the woods and read poetry for hours.
Unfortunately, It’s a bit difficult to do such things when you have a job and a mortgage to pay. So instead, I keep getting lost in poetry on my breaks at work. I think maybe this weekend your Dad and I might go for a walk in nature. Whenever I feel my head getting cloudy, I take to the tall trees and infinite water. I hope you love nature too, but even if you’re an indoor person I hope you always see that there is so much beauty to be appreciated all around us.
I found this poem in my travels today, and I think it explains our view on parenting so beautifully and simply.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
-Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
Waiting to be your stable bow,