Simply Being | Simple Being

Category: This-That (page 29 of 234)

Desire for Offspring

PonderingAs a child, I always imagined that I’d grow up to have a family of four myself.

I regarded our family as a perfect foursome. We shared secrets (at least I did, with Mummy), indulged in spirited discussions on almost every topic under the sun (“Really, apart from breasts and penis, what is the difference between men and women?” Ahhh, the earnestness. I am sure my sage Mom gave nothing away), went to concerts and dance performances and movies and restaurants, and so on.

I thought, clearly this is the perfect template for a happy family. Yes, I would have two children as well.

Then came adolescence, teens, glowing youth. Along came a guy, all thick eyebrows and dark eyes and intense expressions. I promptly fell in love. The years that followed were filled with happy adventures and philosophical discussions as we eagerly tried to understand each other, savoring the new relationship. I wasn’t thinking of marriage at all but time passed soon enough… and marriage happened. The boyfriend became a husband. Then came the honeymoon phase, as I tried to wrap my head around the new role I was playing. Everything felt new, exciting and fresh.

The beginning of marriage also coincided with my introduction of meditation and spirituality. That was a whole new adventure in itself (that continues to date), bringing me so many gifts — friends, fun, awareness, clarity, confidence.

No thoughts of children arose. As the years passed by, I turned my mind to the question. Thought back to the sepia-toned picture I carried in my mind through childhood — me, the husband, two children.

Nothing about that picture seemed relevant any more. I realized that I had no desire for offspring at all. As a child, I had effortlessly internalized the “happy-family-of-four” dream but as an adult, seemingly more self-aware and mature, I let go of that dream. In fact, it simply vaporized. It had no legs at all. It was empty.

I know a few women who say that they ALWAYS knew about their desire to have children. As they became adults and found fitting partners, they promptly acted on that desire. I am incredibly thankful that I recognized my lack of desire, and acted on it.

(Human beings have a strong survival instinct. My uninitiated opinion is that the desire for sex as well as the desire for children function as means to fulfill that instinct. Perhaps an evolutionary biologist might know more. We are well aware that our life span is limited. Producing offspring is how we stave off the threat of death and subsequent extinction. Now, everyone knows that humans are in no danger of extinction, so we have no real reason to procreate. Except that old desires die hard, so we continue to birth and raise and nurture children. Ahh, well.)

Driftwood

Endlessly Still and Dynamic

Endlessly Still and Dynamic

It is a place of privilege, perhaps? Actually, that is not fully accurate. I am of the opinion (and it came to me one day, right out of the blue) that it is ALL well-deserved. Yes, the agony and ecstasy and glory and ignominy and bouquets and brickbats and self-flagellation and… We earn them all in ways we only recall sometimes, but yes, we earn them all. So, no privilege… It is all earned and deserved, dating back to forever in the past.

So here I am, drifting along, simultaneously enjoying the view and pace and peace, and wondering about direction and progress.

As someone wise told me, (not verbatim), there is nothing static about human existence. Our perspective is limited, making us feel so. That we are stuck, going nowhere. But we are, oh yes, we are.

Maybe a few years (or months) later, I will look upon this period with a smile. Ahh, there I was… chewing over some BIG and small questions. Drinking in the quiet and bliss and contentment, trying to guilt myself (“Achievement! Progress! LAZY!”) but not really succeeding.

Space and Time

Most comfortable chairs ever

Most comfortable chairs ever

This evening I came home and made myself a cup of tea. Pulled out an oft-read beloved book (“The Sunday Philosophy Club” by Alexander McCall Smith) and reclined comfortably in one of the two blue-grey chairs by the window. It was a quiet evening. No kids playing out or cars driving by or birds chirping. I sipped my tea and read for a while.

After a few minutes, the peace stealing through my soul felt so urgent, almost compelling. I had to lay my book aside and reflect a little.

A year or so ago, my life began to change. Objects and activities started exiting out of my life, literally and metaphorically. Clothes, music, furniture, books, knick-knacks, hair, interests, people… I bade farewell to all of them. It was an exodus of sorts. I felt that I was creating space. For what? I had no idea. But the decluttering motion had its own energy, rhythm and momentum. I simply followed along.

I discovered the joy of space and time, all to myself. And this space in my house, my head and my life feels so vital, so life-giving… that I wonder if, at a sub-conscious level, I even chose to remain childless because of my intense love for this space and time.

I am, what many term, a “spacey” personality. Previously, I chafed at that description but its meaning is simple. My Ayurvedic constitution is an Air-Space combination. Why resist it? After all, it connotes expansiveness, unboundedness, freedom. As long as I am able to find my grounding and center, it is bliss.

Musings

Because I have many posts roaming in my head, not a single coherent one, PLUS I wish to write.

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I completed reading The Price of Salt, a romantic novel by Patricia Highsmith, last weekend. Also finished Shopgirl, a novella by Steve Martin. Yes, the lovable comedian and banjo player, the same guy. I loved both books so much. The Price of Salt is the tale of Terese and Carol, two women who fall in love, and of course, it is not an easy road to traverse, given that they lived in New York in the 1950s (I think). Shopgirl tells the story of a shy girl Mirabelle who ends up with two suitors.

I guess each person draws what appeals to them the strongest from a given book. Shopgirl is written with such sensitivity and loving detail… I was touched. It just might be one of the best books I have read in a long time. The Price of Salt reminded me a little of Brokeback Mountain, a book that kinda broke my heart with its description of a love so simple yet profound.

Love can be hugely overwhelming and explosive and time-consuming and emotion-consuming and hunger-consuming. Sometimes it does not even mellow with time and age, instead smoldering like a hot piece of coal that refuses to die out. I am finding it difficult to imagine a love that rapturous… Hmmm. My love story is a little flame that burned brightly, supported by good vibes and wishes and humor. It had no fury or drama to it. Probably I braved drama in an earlier lifetime, so I was spared it this time around.

I got thinking last night – what if love is simply a deep attraction? Is that obvious? Attraction isn’t baseless, which means that if/when the basis dies/disappears/changes, love may very well fly out of the window too. Unless you find another basis, possibly?

Ahh, well. Nothing is a given in this manifest universe, except Death. There you go… Not meaning to sound morbid at all, but you get my drift. Or so I hope.