And what, if anything, can or must we tell our children about the horrific events that unfolded at the Boston Marathon? Do we share our disgust and outrage that someone, another of our own species, could commit such heinous violence and acts of hatred? How do we speak words meant to comfort and console our children while steering around the anger and sorrow and vitriol we all must feel watching? How do we avoid teaching yet another round in the karma wheel of violence?
Early before dawn yesterday, hearing one of the first reports on NPR, I had to turn away. Abruptly turning the radio off, I felt a mixture of shame and horror and self protection. I wasn’t yet strong enough to hear the words and learn the full truth. Would I ever be? About to air was an interview with the father of the 8 year old boy killed in the attack. I couldn’t bear the images forming in my own mind, listening. My 10 year old daughter slept peacefully at the other end of our home. If I listened, how would I keep my heart from breaking? When she awoke, what would I tell her? What if she already knew of it and was waiting for me?
Too many are the recent circumstances of these damning choices of how, when and if we tell our children the stark, senseless reality of the world they live in…Sandy Hook, Aurora…violence beyond our imagination, wreaked by mental illness of a kind we still don’t understand. Not unreasonable that we turn away.
But we mustn’t turn away. We must speak. Our children deserve and require this of us, no matter how painful or uncertain. Buddhist nun and author Pema Chodron describes in her book “Places That Scare Us” that this urge is like our very breath rising in us, pushing upward against the natural downward forces of gravity and fear, we must force our voices to rise and speak against crime and bloodshed…even if we don’t have all the answers, even if our voices tremble. British pediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott urged us to be “good enough” parents, not perfect. We can start with earnest listening. “What have you heard?” is a great place to start. Our children live in a world far more quick of pace than we might imagine. Little brains conjure fast and word spreads quickly, especially with elementary school kids carrying smartphones. Reassurance is critical. “There are very smart people working hard to make things safe for us right now” is important to convey. Larger challenges loom ahead as our children inevitably ask “Why?”. It is human instinct to want to blame and assign responsibility, even when impossible to do so. “God did not do this to punish, he is here to give us strength” we must insist, lest we create an image of an untrustworthy higher power already in doubt. Just being present with our children, surrounding them with love and reassurance is much of what’s needed. “There are some things we cannot understand” is the plain, real truth, however painful. Our children deserve nothing less.
Namaste,
John