Michael-centric

Last night a friend who is a recovering addict remarked that her eight-month-old son was a gift because he was teaching her how to live clean and sober. This led other people to talk about things their kids had taught them.

Well, I have no kids of my own, although now I have stepchildren. But they were all adults when I met them, and that makes for a different relationship.

The special case is Peter, although he was in his twenties when we met and I was in my fifties. Peter lived with us here in the Dells for three years. He was here for a couple of years, then went to teach in Mississippi for a year and came back for another year before moving on. So he is the one I have spent the most time with.

It was difficult for me when Peter first moved in. There were things about him that drove me crazy. But over the months, we became friends and I can honestly say that I came to  love him. He can still drive me to distraction like all children do to their parents. But it is a different thing.

Peter popped into my morning meditation yesterday, and it was because of an insight (nothing original to see here, folks, keep walking) that the things that had driven me crazy about him were things that drive me crazy about myself. I needed Peter to be with us for those three years in order to learn more about myself, learn things that I wanted (still want) to change.

The most important thing about having Peter with us, though, is the lesson I think every child brings to a parent: I, Michael, am not the center of the universe. [Shocking, huh?] One thing that drove me crazy about his presence was that I had to share Tom with him. That was ultimately very good for Tom and Peter. And eventually I realized it was good for me. [The photo is of Tom and Peter at Thanksgiving in 2011, I think.]

I suppose when you have a baby, the baby quickly becomes the center of your universe in a way. There are good things and bad things about that, I am sure. But one very good thing is that it can knock you off the ego-throne and let you discover ... the rest of the world.  I guess the secret is to learn that the center of the universe is mystery with its center everywhere and its circumference nowhere.

If I can remember that I am not the center of the universe, that my family (sorry, Dodds!) is not the center of the universe, that my nation and state and gay community are not the center of the universe any more than all the other people and families and nations and states and communities ... well, I think when I remember that, I feel better.

At least I do today.