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Out of context: Reply #17
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- SkyPoo0
Most of us are born into parental care. The experience of becoming a parent and therefore what defines parental care is that you reach a point in life, sometime after your adolescent booster rockets run out of fuel and inertia slowly winds down, where you feel that something is missing, that you haven't fulfilled your potential, you have not acheived the miraculous destiny imbued to you by your doting parents who convinced you in a thousand tiny ways every day of your young life that you were a miracle, that you were special, better than the rest, destined to hold the world as your oyster.
So you also spawn, and what you produce is nothing short of a miraculous, miniature facsimilie of yourself. Perfect in every way, and in particular possessing that which you have lost. Youth, vitality, the power to acheive, the time to do it. So you re-learn all the ambitions of your youth, and you remeber how it felt to be so full of confidence, promise, potential and fire, and you realise that this tiny facsimile of you can acheive that which you did not, and so you begin to imbue them with the vision.
They grow, bit by bit, day by day, all the while being decorated by a thousand tiny affirmations of their own greatness to come. You tell them of the mistakes you made, so as to enlighten them not to repeat your path but to refine it, to perfect the stratospheric rise to greatness. And when adolscence comes and those booster rockets kick in, they take off, sodden with the notion that you gave them that they are the embodiment of true greatness. And the power of those adolscent booster rockets is such that they burn you up on take off and its impossible to maintain control of the direction they take.
So off they go, your spawn. Young adults, full of power with no control. And before they know it they've charged off at a million miles an hour into the great unknown, and then the adolscent booster rockets have run out of fuel and wound down, and they find themselves scrabbling round to utilise the resources available in whichever field of human experience they end up, and before too long they realise they never quite acheived the dreams of their youth... dreams which were imbued from day one in a thousand tiny , every single day. Something went wrong, they went off course. They got lost.
But its not too late. Rumour is its possible to make a tiny facsimile, and to charge that with the task of reaching the great destination that you did not.
Cue song "I believe that children are the future..."
- Sorry, I came over all Lorne Greene whislt writing my post.SkyPoo