Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I have spent a lot of the last week (and the last nine months) snuggling a sleeping Speedy. I’ve tried to be productive with that time while also enjoying and appreciating the one on one time in his first year.
Productivity, with a sleeping infant strapped to your chest, and a rambunctious toddler in the other room who has a new found habit of screeching like an underfed seagull, is a relative term.
It mostly involves trying to stay away from social media or news feeds, and reading books, blogs, or otherwise useful forms of information. My most recent literary journey is Frank Herbert’s Sci-fi classic DUNE.
Published in 1965 Herbert transports you to a political and economic struggle between great houses on a desert planet called Arrakis. As the major players in the realm jockey for power, Herbert weaves in some unconventional wisdom that retains relevance decades past publishing.
“Any road followed precisely to it’s end leads precisely nowhere. Climb the mountain just a little bit to test that it’s a mountain. From the top of the mountain you cannot see the mountain”
This cold open quote at the beginning of a chapter brought to mind so much of what the last nine months has been like. A road to nowhere, inability to see the mountain we’ve been climbing, and it made me think about being a father in the time of a pandemic.
I have been very blessed to be able to spend much of this time with my family. Watching my boys grow and learn, day in and day out is a privilege that many fathers forfeit in the name of financial responsibilities. Day in and day out growth and change is a bit like the mountain, you can appreciate other peaks and valleys from the top but not really the mountain itself. It is only from the starting point and during the ascent that you can really see the mountain.
Speedy was born at home at the beginning of all of the Covid craziness. Now, nine months later, he is crawling across the house and starting to pull himself up on low surfaces, despite his precarious lack of balance. He babbles loudly and often enough to make himself heard in an already loud family, and much to his mother’s chagrin, has become quite adept at using the few teeth he has cut.
I’ve watched El Duderino grow into his role as a big brother in a way that is as tragically humorous as it is inevitable, mimicking the relationship I had with my younger brother at that age. I’m sure my mother warned me about this, something or other about karma, I was too busy practicing wrestling moves on my brother to pay close attention.
El Duderino flips effortlessly between roles as his brother’s keeper and a toddler adjusting to sharing. He can be heard screaming “no he’ll choke on that”, snatching up small toys out of his brothers grasp, and also “stop that man!” As Speedy crawls towards him, eyes filled with a curiosity and wonder only seen in a newly mobile child.
Looking back across nine months, the mountain is tall, and the climb has been as exhilerating as it has been arduous. That perspective only applies when thinking back to the beginning. Each day examined on its own, seems more like a comedic rerun of the last, rather than an integral part of the mountain trail.
I hope I can maintain mindfulness and appreciation for the many mountains I will climb alongside my family. I hope that I can instill the importance of that perspective into my sons’ young minds. I hope that we all acknowledge the view from the top without forgetting to recognize the trials and triumphs of the climb.
Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.
