Conversations For Transformation: Essays Inspired By The Ideas Of Werner Erhard

Conversations For Transformation

Essays By Laurence Platt

Inspired By The Ideas Of Werner Erhard

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Nights At The Lake

Cowboy Cottage, East Napa, California, USA

January 12, 2025



"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."
... Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

"Life flows on within you and without you."
... The Beatles, Within You Without You

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things."
... St Paul the apostle, 1 Corinthians 13:11
This essay, Nights At The Lake, is the companion piece to Empty Nest, Full Sky.

It is also the seventh in a septology on Children: I am indebted to Susan and Tyson Morgan who inspired this conversation and contributed material.




I can't say with certainty the exact date and time when it happened. But happen it did - maybe because of me or maybe in spite  of me. It was the point at which my children in addition to being my children, became my friends as well. And it wasn't just an "either / or"  becoming. It wasn't that they became my friends some times, then reverted to being my children at other times when they weren't being my friends (clearly, once my children always my children). It was rather a new realm of relationship we embarked on together: from them being my children (only) ... to being my friends also. It was the emergence of the new distinction "friends" which could then co-exist along with our being family ie the emergence of my children as my friends - in addition to our being family. And look, don't misundertake me (you should get yourself totally clear about this): sometimes children don't want  to play at being friends. It's their way of asserting ie their push-back. If they're assertive, support them no matter what. They're not negating your input. They're just testing its boundaries.

Sometimes the distinction "friends" isn't always present for our children. So as a distinction, it needs to be re-invented from time to time. Otherwise it fades into the background (at least temporarily). Just like the adult distinction "friends" fades into the background from time to time (and mostly comes back, like re-igniting embers of a campfire), so does the distinction "friends" ... who are also / just happen to be my children. The fact is that almost always, children don't forge friendships with their family in quite the same way as they might forge friendships with other children, or in quite the same way as adults forge new friendships with other adults. Children are more interested in forging the path to adulthood ie in growing up  through family as a vehicle. For children, being recognized as friends by their parents, is a checkpoint  in growing up ie in learning that they're worthy of respect and trust. It's never a requirement.

When my children first emerged as my friends (and later not  as my friends ... and then as my friends again), it became the primary interface between us when they were (and even when they weren't). I began to realize it was a matter of their  pride and self-sufficiency that I allow them to manage their old childish ways by themselves. Their old childish ways, the ones I had grown to love unconditionally, then became inexorably private for them and somewhat unreachable (appropriately) for me. Instead, they led with their new "friends" suit. At first I was unfamiliar and awkward with following their new lead. Yet they had clearly indicated to me they had reached a new level of Self-expression with which they neither required my assistance nor my guidance. At that time, some adjustment was required by all of us. Life reminded us to allow our lives to turn out the way they turn out, which they invariably do with us / in spite of us. It's life's way of raising children. Don't resist it. People who resist life's way of raising children, have those banged up, bruised looks upon them.

That's how I spent a series of nights at a family home on the shore of a pristine lake in northern Michigan with a best friend of mine ie one of my children. Bundled up against the biting, bracing chill by a roaring log fire he'd built (in a stone firepit he'd also built), we sipped Pabst Blue Ribbon, just shooting the breeze, celebrating our friendship. There's nothing quite like celebrating the passage of time for him from a baby then, to the adroit builder of stone firepits and purveyor of fine brewski now. Jokes flew fast. Some clever, some wicked. But they were not what was noteworthy about those nights at the lake. What was noteworthy was the palpable genesis from family to friendship, from managing a child to him running the show, from being a senior to being an equal.



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