Hands down the most influential book I have ever read is Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I suffered through the first 50 pages or so for the book to take off and was so glad I did afterward. The story of Robert Pirsig's mental breakdown, its effect on his family, career and outlook, as well as his recovery, put into perspective the emphasis our society puts on the "image" of success and having it all together. Pirsig underwent electroshock therapy to "cure" him of his neuroses. In the aftermath, he felt wiped of his personality, like an actor playing a part in his life. Part of his re-connection with his family (his son, Chris, in particular) is the basis for the substance of the book - the motorcycle road trip. One of the complaints his son had after his treatments was that his dad wasn't his dad anymore. Despite his dad being "unstable" prior to EST, he was also fun, interesting and loving. As Pirsig and his tween son travel together, he finally understands the full impact of his illness and recovery on his son's life. Their connection reforms and grows ever stronger as a result of the discoveries both of them make about themselves and the world through their shared experience.
Obviously, the book touches on so many more topics, but the afterword that was written a decade or so later refocuses the work to make their relationship so much more poignant - it was written after his son's death. Chris was randomly (and fatally) stabbed in San Francisco while leaving a Zen center at the age of 22. In the wake of his death, in Pirsig's own words, "I go on living, more from force of habit than anything else" [Thinking about my own child, I could not agree more with this sentiment. There would be times of great grief, no doubt, if my closest friends or family members passed, but the loss of my child would be a crushing experience]. Pirsig continues on, writing that his second child, conceived accidentally, almost did not come into this world (his wife and he had originally agreed to terminate the pregnancy) but now that she was here, her life-force was one and the same as his son. His imagery of a death being a hole in the pattern of life makes sense of the loss felt without turning to gods or the inexplicable (especially important for someone who isn't interested in supernatural explanations) . In fact, I'd take his thoughts on his daughter one step further, though I think he gets there too - being in the presence of a child is wondrous. Their tiny existence has not yet been pressed upon by thousands of interactions (good, bad and mundane) and so they radiate pure life. When you ask someone to strip life down to what's most valuable, for most people, the answer will never be, "my iphone" or "my yacht" or some other material possession. A much more likely answer will be, "time with my children/partner/family." Yet in our daily interactions, something so basic as human connection gets pushed aside by the demands of our society - material possessions, career, prestige, ambition, image, and so on.
After being around children in almost every job I've ever had, having a significantly younger brother and raising my own child, I can tell you one thing for certain - children represent raw material. Young children especially haven't been initiated into our societal norms yet and so they're amazing to watch. In fact, they often seem downright weird. Eating food off the floor? Sure. Rubbing their noses on the rug? Absolutely. Riding the cat? Yes. We put children in schools, organized activities, church groups, et al., to inculcate them into what we consider to be "acceptable." Sure, it's cute when they do wacky stuff at 2, less so at 12 and definitely not at all by time they're 22.
Recently, I read an article in New York magazine about the trend of parents turning to "coaches" to "fix" their children and families' home lives. The upper middle and upper classes are no strangers to spending money to give their children a leg up. I understand the idea of wanting to help your child in any way possible. Yet, as an educator, I can attest, from years of experience, that the most important thing you can give a child is your time. Children develop at their own pace - there are average experiences you can read about in books that may provide you with an idea of when your child will develop a particular skill or hit a certain milestone, but human development is not hard science in the way determining the velocity of a falling object is. Strangely, toward the end of the article, the author of the piece equates the swim lessons she pays for to the life-coach for a toddler in a wealthier neighborhood. She posits these two "extravagances" as a difference of degree rather than a difference of kind. I could not disagree more. Swimming skills have the potential to save someone's life. A life coach for a small child is a bunch of image-boosting bullshit. The "raw material" of childhood is just too good to not be tapped into as another market. Fears of one's child falling behind, being less talented or special in some way is just too much to bear, especially if one has the means to make it different. In reality, most small children don't need to have a coach for anything other than loosely organized sports like t-ball. They'd benefit more from time to explore the world around them with a supportive guardian nearby. The less time they have being penned inside with adults who monitor and correct their every move, the better. This trend is mirrored by the many day-cares and preschool facilities that promote play over academics. Sure, it's probably a cycling trend (and next year, baby Calculus will be all the rage), but hopefully it will be around for a while.
Of course we want to make sure our children are socialized enough to be able to function in wider society, but do we ever ask if we've gone too far? The pace and shallowness of modern, post-industrial life leaves many people with the same neuroses of those living under extreme physical duress. We're not living in a culture of scarcity by any means, yet people report feeling anxiety at the levels of unprecedented in historical record. We have the material comforts but we are still afraid. Why?
One answer may lie in the removal of spontaneity from our lives. With more and more connectedness through improved technology, we gain knowledge, but we also lose an ability to wonder. We can know immediately: who's calling, what's in our mailbox, where we're going, what song is playing next, if someone we'd jive with amorously is on the same block as us...We live in a world of potentials that are often never actualized, maybe because they are right there in front of us, so easy to find. The "chase" is gone. There's only the capture. Everything has been calibrated, ergonomically created, means-tested for us. And sometimes what we want IS the chase, the messiness and the whimsy of life.
The same metaphor of chase/capture can be applied to child-rearing. The chase approach allows a child to explore their options.The guardian offers guidance and support. The capture approach is an attempt to achieve the image of what the guardian thinks the child should be - an end goal has been preset. When the child veers off the path, we push them back on, no matter what. This pressures both parties to potentially be something they're not. It initiates the child into the anxiety of an adult world predicated on scarcity of resources (both emotional and material), when in fact we're living in a country where resources are truly not scarce at all. As teacher, I have sat through countless meetings and heard politicians wax on about the importance of everyone taking honors classes, going to college, securing "prestigious" employment and it makes me roll my eyes. Hard. Not everyone is cut out for academic life. Or for life as a professional. Some of my students are better with their hands, or have great people skills, or are budding musicians, and yet, most of them are told that the same path is ahead of them, whether they want to pursue it or not. Why can we not allow life to be a journey, bumps and all?
I leave you with Pirsig's words, as I think he taps into the Sisyphean nature of life and human existence on the whole but assures us its worth weathering the storms (both as individuals and as a species)."Nell teaches aspects of parenthood never understood before. If she cries or makes a mess or decides to be contrary (and these are relatively rare), it doesn't bother. There is always Chris's silence to compare it to. What is seen now so much more clearly is that although the names keep changing and the bodies keep changing, the larger pattern that holds us all together goes on and on. In terms of this larger pattern the lines at the end of this book still stand. We have won it. Things are better now. You can sort of tell these things." - Robert Pirsig, ZAMM
