No Pushing Allowed

Research is part of the very messy journey that us writers call process.  In the rare times of writing well, we invite our readers into the complex journey of comprehension.  What a magical intersection.

Synesthesia.  Look it up like I had to after hearing it for the first time last week.  Let it make sense or let it confuse you.  If you care to ponder more, the following words are here for you…

My son is 7 1/2 amazing years old.  He doesn’t know how to ride a bike without training wheels yet and the other day he invited his dad and I to the playground to show us that he had finally learned to swing by himself.  We didn’t tell him how proud we were of him.  We joined in right alongside him with smiles that matched the delight of his grin.  He had all the joy he needed right inside his own heart.  We didn’t have to push him past his moment and into ours.  His childhood accomplishment belonged rightfully to him.

The compassionate heart and open mind that my son is building within himself is going to face far more challenges than the chain links of a swing.  Life will leave the skin of his hands tattered and exhaust his inertia in ways that I am unable to predict or prevent.  I don’t lay in bed at night worrying about whether he will to learn to ride a bike without training wheels.  It doesn’t concern me for the same reason I didn’t worry if he would learn to tie his shoes and won’t worry if he will get through algebra.  He will.

My deepest, fall-to-my-knees worry is the gift of intuition that I recognize in him and whether he, or the world around him, can appreciate it’s definition.

On more than handfuls of occasions, I have watched my son cover his ears and cry in the midst of loudness – situations that are too noisy or that include too many people.  If I level him at the surface, I have an explanation for this behavior.  He was born with a condition that is fully connected to the health of his hearing – it makes total sense.  But when I slam the dictionary shut and check another source, I discover the other story…

This little boy is in tune to the frequencies of life.  I observe it in him every day.  The world is loud with emotion through his eyes and he hears interactions with slow-mo vision.  It’s why he touches my hand when I am hiding my sadness and says things like don’t worry mom, the world is just a story that you get to dream in. you’ll be okay.  And on the funnier side of wisdom says things like, dad it’s okay that you don’t have it in you to be patient. you have lots of other really great things inside you. just keep looking.  It’s why he takes walks by himself and why he once asked me to take him to a cemetery (mom, it’s so neat to see how everyone & everything is connected).

His perceptual understanding of the world is real.  On most days that will serve him well. On other days he will have to figure it out, because the world is too beautiful and too unbearable when you see it in double.

There are not enough conversations I can have with him to help him make sense of his superpower and all the ways it will help him understand himself and the world.  To push him towards it or away from it does him no good.  It would cheat him from the depths of introspection that are waiting for him.  He simply needs a vision of what it looks like to embrace the journey.

That is something I can do for him…because I feel the world in color.






  1. So much about this to love. As a mom, the line “He had all the joy he needed right inside his own heart. We didn’t have to push him past his moment and into ours. His childhood accomplishment belonged rightfully to him” is a great reminder…
    And as a human, to hear you so beautifully describe the way you and your team of three experience this world makes me so grateful to know you. You live in that beauty, in the color, the emotion, in the journey to keep looking for in ourselves those things that we don’t come by easily. You do that for all of us.


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