I am traveling in Krakow with my son who is nearly 20, and later to Budapest alone. After reading your essay, I feel the satisfying weight of fatherhood. Fatherhood is “heavy” in your sense and yet it is also well-fitted to my being. In this way it is also light—joyous.
To be with this young man. To hear his ideas. To feel his love of travel and the world. To hear Chopin. To visit Auschwitz. To have a beer with him. These are the antidotes to anxiety and dread. But I must also carry the weight.
Such a poignant Monday note! Weaving together all the great pieces, podcasts and chats over the past few weeks. Rewarding in its seriousness. Thanks for the reflection!
This is a beautiful essay. It reminds me of a documentary Louis Theroux did on alcoholism where he finished on the note that alcoholics are simply people who are more vulnerable to the twists and turns of life than others. It strikes me in your note that 'heavyness' is simultaneously a blessing and a curse. It grants us the feeling to sift through 'lightness' and really feel what matters but also that weight can and has crushed people. At the very least it can significantly alter in negative ways someone's life when that heavyness comes from events which we struggle to process.
In your example if the worst had happened not only would it have been the worst day in the lives of your parents but I imagine that image would also have haunted you for a significant amount of time or even perhaps until the end of your days. So, I guess, heavyness grants us the ability to find significance and meaning which is so vital but it can also overload us especially if are perhaps unprepared or unable to face that meaning in its true form.
This is a beautiful essay, Sam.
I am traveling in Krakow with my son who is nearly 20, and later to Budapest alone. After reading your essay, I feel the satisfying weight of fatherhood. Fatherhood is “heavy” in your sense and yet it is also well-fitted to my being. In this way it is also light—joyous.
To be with this young man. To hear his ideas. To feel his love of travel and the world. To hear Chopin. To visit Auschwitz. To have a beer with him. These are the antidotes to anxiety and dread. But I must also carry the weight.
Blessings on this day.
Such a poignant Monday note! Weaving together all the great pieces, podcasts and chats over the past few weeks. Rewarding in its seriousness. Thanks for the reflection!
beautiful essay Sam
This is a beautiful essay. It reminds me of a documentary Louis Theroux did on alcoholism where he finished on the note that alcoholics are simply people who are more vulnerable to the twists and turns of life than others. It strikes me in your note that 'heavyness' is simultaneously a blessing and a curse. It grants us the feeling to sift through 'lightness' and really feel what matters but also that weight can and has crushed people. At the very least it can significantly alter in negative ways someone's life when that heavyness comes from events which we struggle to process.
In your example if the worst had happened not only would it have been the worst day in the lives of your parents but I imagine that image would also have haunted you for a significant amount of time or even perhaps until the end of your days. So, I guess, heavyness grants us the ability to find significance and meaning which is so vital but it can also overload us especially if are perhaps unprepared or unable to face that meaning in its true form.