Dao of Dad

[silent thunder]

The Dao of Dad

 

While any fertile man can potentially father a child... not everyone is capable of being a Dad.

 

A thread to share about your Father, or your Dad.

A place to honor, or vent... and not be shamed.

Share or not, it's up to you.

 

Here are my two experiences with Fathers... as antipodal as they come.

 

I really won the lottery when it came to my Father... my Dad.  Out of 6 billion people (when I was born), I got Spencer Brian for a Father.  Invaluable beyond imagining the gift of having this man as my Dad.  His intelligence and fiercely keen intellect were only outmatched by his humor and his love of nature.  He nurtured exploration.  He cultivated critical thinking in the way he phrased open questions that prodded one to explore and come to one's own conclusions and was reticent to ever offer outright answers. 

 

He encouraged participation in life full throttle.  Really live, right or wrong, be there.  Participate!

 

He was a fierce materialist and often gave me skads of shit for my energetic perceptions and woo woo ways.  God how I miss that!  But in all my time with him... no matter how fundamentally we disagreed on something, even when he was picking me up at the police station... not only did my Dad never hit me, he never spoke unkindly to me.  Never once did he put me down, assault me with his assumptions, or chastise me.  He had no need to.  He was comfortable with who he was and he accepted I was not him.  So we could meet and overlap or not overlap as was authentic to our nature.

 

He had no compunctions about calling out dangerous or dumbass behavior.  But never once in the midst of said chastising did I for a moment feel that he rejected me, or didn't love me, or nurture me that I might thrive.

 

When he passed... and every. single. day. since.  I am overwhelmed by gratitude that out of this 14 billion year spinning universe, I had the chance and unbelievable fortune to meet and spend time with that man, let alone have him for a Father.  Truly, what greater gift is there?  Did I earn this?  no.  It's just how things were for me.

 

That's my experience with fatherhood.  My other intimate experience of a father is the antipodal extreme of my own and is my experience with the man who fathered (and tortured) my wife throughout her childhood. 

 

 

 

My wife had the opposite experience of fatherhood.  The man who fathered her, is a tyrant and a bully.  He manipulated oversaw ever miuntea (including how many pieces of tp she could wipe her ass with) her entire life to the age of 19 when she escaped his influence of violence, threat and terror and moved in with me.  Her father operates from an assumption of absolute Naive Realism wherein, he assumes he sees the world the way it really is and if you don't agree with his take on things, you are wrong.  end of story.  He operates with the entire world on the three levels of truth.  He respects force and obedience above all other attributes.  Loving, nurturing, compassion, understanding, empathy, sympathy are all weaknesses to be driven relentlessly from their host as if a disease.

 

He operates on the three levels of truth.

 

1. he knows the truth and he explains the truth to you fairly, calmly and openly, because he knows the truth and you must as well.
2. if you don't agree can't understand the truth after he has calmly shown you what it is, he then begins shouting and yells the truth at you, in an effort to intimidate you into following the truth even if you don't 'get it'.
3. finally, if these two don't work, he then feels obligated to beat the truth into you, for your own good.  To not do this by his own admission, is a dereliction of his duty as one who knows the truth.
4. repeat 2 and 3 as needed.

 

Did she earn this?  No.  It's just how things were for her. 

 

I'm reminded of the impact the following exchange had on me when I heard it and when I recall it now.  Having come from a home with such a father as I had, realizing how different it was for others is traumatizing in itself, particularly when it's someone we admire, love and respect. 

 

It's from the 1989 movie Parenthood and is a very brief exchange between Diane Weist who plays Helen and Keanu Reeves who plays Todd Higgins.  The writing is keen and insightful in the extreme for me.

 

It goes like this:  In the kitchen Helen addressing a concern over her son.

 

Helen:  I guess a boy Gary's age really needs a man around.

Todd:  Yea, well... mmm... depends on the man.  I had a man around.  He used to wake me up in the morning by flicking lit cigarettes at my head.  "hey asshole, get up and make me breakfast!".  You know, Mrs. buckman, you need a license to buy a dog. You need a license to drive a car. Hell, you even need a license to catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father.

 

here's the scene itself

Spoiler

 

 

Then there's the Father that I am now, my son is 13.

That book is being written...

[liminal_luke]

After my dad killed himself, I hugged my mom tight and told her that we were free.  He would never again yell at us.  My emotions during those few days leading up to his funeral are a jumble, but one of them was definitely relief.  I think dad suspected that we would be better off without him and shot himself as a kind of twisted kindness.  Since his death, I´ve been able to be my authentic self in ways I´m not sure I could have if he was alive. 

 

It´s not enough, however, to end the story of our relationship on a resoundingly sour note.  I believe one of the developmental tasks of adulthood is to see our parents in a nuanced way, not merely as good or bad people but as complicated mixed bags.  My dad wanted great things for his family.  He moved us out of LA to rural northern California so we could live the idyllic farm life he thought we´d want.  He signed us up for 4-H and helped us raise cows and pigs to auction off at the county fair.  We had chickens and ducks and geese.  We were living the dream, and it was a good dream, just not one I shared.  Some father´s get outgoing sons who date girls and play football.  If I´d of been that kid, maybe my dad and I would of been friends. 

Edited April 23, 2019 by liminal_luke

[Fa Xin]

Everyday, I notice I become more like my dad...

 

It's annoying

 

 

[silent thunder]

While going through my Dad's belongings.  I tried on some of his shoes.

I grinned and chuckled when I found I could not quite fill them.

[steve]

My father was very harsh and demanding when I was young.

Very quick to anger but also easy to hug and kiss.

The rare beating was difficult. Even more painful when he accidentally broke my nose with a baseball.

I was so hurt and angry!

Each night at dinner he would vent and criticize, leave the table in anger and slam his bedroom door.

He would get furious if he heard my music, sometimes breaking my radio or instruments.

And yet I never felt unloved.

 

As he has aged he has softened. He is now drifting slowly into dementia and becoming very warm and open.

At first, I didn't know how to be with this new person. It felt alien and a little uncertain to connect.

It is getting easier and more joyful to be with him, to be more intimate.

I wish we lived closer.

I know he will be gone relatively soon and cherish what little time we have left together.

[steve]

19 hours ago, liminal_luke said:

After my dad killed himself, I hugged my mom tight and told her that we were free.  He would never again yell at us.  My emotions during those few days leading up to his funeral are a jumble, but one of them was definitely relief.  I think dad suspected that we would be better off without him and shot himself as a kind of twisted kindness.  Since his death, I´ve been able to be my authentic self in ways I´m not sure I could have if he was alive. 

 

It´s not enough, however, to end the story of our relationship on a resoundingly sour note.  I believe one of the developmental tasks of adulthood is to see our parents in a nuanced way, not merely as good or bad people but as complicated mixed bags.  My dad wanted great things for his family.  He moved us out of LA to rural northern California so we could live the idyllic farm life he thought we´d want.  He signed us up for 4-H and helped us raise cows and pigs to auction off at the county fair.  We had chickens and ducks and geese.  We were living the dream, and it was a good dream, just not one I shared.  Some father´s get outgoing sons who date girls and play football.  If I´d of been that kid, maybe my dad and I would of been friends. 

 

Sending you love and hugs my friend.

[dwai]

I lost my dad when I was 21 years old. He worked very hard for his family. Growing up, I never realized how privileged I was that I never felt a lack of anything in my life, even though we were of quite modest means. As kids, we never really desired too many things - heck I only had one "big toy" growing up. We spent our time reading books, playing outdoors and hearing stories and parables from the mouths of our elders (grandparents mainly). I think that feeling of fulfillment comes from being in a family which is bonded in love and kindness. My grandparents would spend extended periods of time with us (things hadn't yet gone fully down the path of nuclear families in India back then).

 

At one point we lived in a 2-bedroom apartment, with my grandparents, my sister and I sharing one room. Yet, we never felt cramped, or that our privacy was being invaded, etc. Having the presence of the elders made life more beautiful. My dad supported all of us, the best he could. 

 

My dad worked himself to death. It was only after he passed away, that I realized how much he did for us. And how difficult life was for him, as he had to make living paycheck to paycheck work without us ever realizing that to be the case. I remember getting "spanked" by him only twice in my life. Once when I had taken a toy pistol on my school bus (first grade). The Bus driver took away the pistol and my dad was called to the office.

 

The pistol was a stage prop that looked ridiculous but was made of brass (and belonged to my grandfather, from his stage acting days). Dad spanked me for taking it without permission. The other time it was for screwing up on a math test.  

After I entered my teens, Dad and I would argue a lot. He had some expectations and ideas about what I should do with my life, and I wanted to be a professional musician. After much resistance, he decided to support me as best as he could. Once he stopped resisting, I stopped resisting too. Things went back to being harmonious after 2-3 years of great upheaval. 

 

Unfortunately he passed away, at the age of 54, when I was in my 3rd year of university. His loss is felt all the time. As time goes by, and I'm a dad myself now, I realize exactly how amazing he was, that he toiled away with a smile on his face, because he loved his family. 

Edited April 24, 2019 by dwai

[OldDog]

I think my Dad must have been a Daoist ... not in fact but in heart. While quite strict he was also quite gentle, reserved and just ... quiet ... often choosing to just listen rather than speak. He taught with few words and much example.

 

When it came to discipline, as a child, I saw my share of the belt ... but it was always deliberate and measured. When I committed some offense worthy of corporal punishment,  I was sent to my room to ponder what I had done ... and allow him time to cool down ... then the belt was applied in a measured manner, not violently. That pretty much ended by the time i was 10.

 

I still draw lessons from my dad, though he has passed. One of the strongest only occurred to me years after I took up study of the Dao. I have this strong memory of sitting on a lake fishing with my Dad when I was maybe 10. It was early morning. The lake like a mirror, reflecting the sky, mountains and trees. The air was almost a chill. We sat in a small boat at the base of a cliff still fishing for trout. Nothing was said. Just stillness. I get the same feeling when reading the poems of Cold Mountain. Some years later, I recall my dad remarking that he got more religion out of being on the lake than a whole month of Sundays sitting in church ...  not that we didn't go. Years later, it occurred to me to look up the image of mountain over lake in the Yijing. That image continues to be an instructive meditation to this day.

 

As the days grew closer to his passing, I could see it coming. I am grateful to the lessons from Zhuangzi on life and death for preparing me for the inevitable.  Zhuangzi continues to be a guide in many matters of life.

 

 

 

Edited April 24, 2019 by OldDog
Manually correcting the autocorrection