Does the apple fall near the tree?
When asked this question, my brain immediately wants to find all of the possible times when an apple could fall from the tree. After all, if the apple tree were right next to a cliff, then it's possible that the apple could fall and not be close to the tree at all. I'm sure I could fabricate many plausible situations where the apple would literally fall far from the tree.
However, having just visited an apple orchard today, I must say that when an apple falls it does fall close to a tree and remains there under the tree. Even when an apple picker might be jumping and desperately trying to knock down the perfect apple, it still does not fall far from the tree. In fact, it falls with a soft thud upon the ground.
So the real question: does this apply metaphorically to humans and their children? Ah, this is a much more challenging question as I look at my own sons.
They are amazing mirrors for me. I distinctly remember exploring in the woods with them. Pete chose a new path--one that we'd never taken before; he felt quite confident that he was going to find a new path back to our house. On the other hand, Danny cried and screamed that we were going to get lost; he was paralyzed by his fears. I looked from one to the other and wondered how it was that they personified the two parts of me so perfectly. In some situations, I am adventurous and love to forge new paths, especially in my teaching where I live free of my fears. However, I have also know the paralysis that my own fears have created, a self-made prison of sorts. What a gift to see myself so clearly in each of them!
Yesterday as we closed our pool, I felt myself slipping back into those old patterns--yelling impatiently. I wasn't shocked when they both started yelling at me and each other. Of course, I immediately scolded them for being nasty, but I heard my words echoed as if they were channeling me. It wasn't pretty. I hung my head and prayed for all of our spirit guides to help us and to bring harmony and peace into our lives. At one point, I said, "Ok, Guys, let's all say a quiet prayer to ourselves for peace and harmony." Without hesitation, Pete said, "I've done that three times. It's not working." Danny's response was simple: "My head hurts from all of the screaming." Yeah, that is exactly how I felt: "Is this praying even working? I feel ill too from all of this negative, loud noise." I'm sad that I've taught my children to yell and criticize, but I'm happy that they have learned to ask Divinity for help and to recognize the connection between our emotions and our bodies.
Today, as we went apple picking for the first time, I watched them again. They were both willing to pick apples, but I didn't see myself immediately reflected in them. Pete picked apples for a while, but when he decided that he was done, he stopped but was content to watch the apple picking. Danny picked with great gusto and exuberance. He taste-tested them and filled the bags with the ones he really liked. Unfortunately, he walked through some sticky, prickly burrs and needed help picking them off of his shorts, which ended his joy and his willingness to pick apples.
At first glance, neither really is me, but when I dig just a bit beneath the surface, I find the mirrors. Like Pete, when I make up my mind, sometimes that's it; I will stop what I'm doing and decide, "Ok, I've done enough. I'm done." At times, this is a gift to know my limits, but sometimes, I must wonder if I pull myself out of the fun. In terms of Danny, I begin many things with great exuberance too; I'm also willing to try lots of new things, but what do I do when it gets a bit sticky? Truthfully, I must confess that sometimes I just drop the apple bag and stop--too frustrated to move forward.
I recognize that we each have our own journey. We can choose to alter our paths. Personally, I'd like to think that I'm not in the same orchard as my own parents right now, but I know that a few short years ago I was repeating their patterns with my own sons. I could choose to live an unconscious life filled with should's and ought to's. I choose to change my perceptions. I feel my connection with Divinty, not because I go to church, but because I honor the Divine in nature, people, and within myself.
So, my friend, the apple does not fall far from the tree in this house. However, I am not disheartened by this realization, despite the fact that it pains me to watch them set their own limits--many of which they've learned from me. I am aware of my short comings, and I am willing to make changes in order to become a healthier, more fruit-producing tree. Perhaps they will fall close to my tree. I hope they will be strong enough to open up their minds, hearts, and souls to see beyond my limitations as they branch out and begin to grow their own roots.
Namaste,
L
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