Saturday, August 13, 2016

Finding Happiness in Troubled Times

Teaching of the Dalai Lama: Introduction to Buddhism

It's an interesting thing, being a child with a bond to an institution like a sprawling group home, instead of to  a parent. Sacramento Children's Home had four cottages, each sixteen children from ages 12-18, a football field, a barnyard area, a recreational center and Cowell Center Cottage, with 20 children ages 5-12. I remember going back and visiting in my twenties. I had brought a boyfriend at the time. For the life of me, I can't remember which one. I think it was in my late twenties. Adrian, a brief boyfriend was connected to Sacramento and liked to visit, so it makes sense it was him.

Funding had become a huge issue for SCH. Cottage one had to be shut down and it stood, silent and dark, at attention along the path to the three other cottages. I had lived at Cowell Center Cottage and Cottage One.

There is general feeling of fondness for all the adult faces associated with the group home. We at SCH at that time had it better than the other group home kids. St. Patrick group home was not as well funded. Once a year, the better behaved kids got to visit that group home for BBQ. All group homes have a mix of kids,  juvenile delinquents, mental health cases, substance abuse cases, and children relinquished from parents or taken from parents. Most were wards of the court. Some parents still had some rights.

Kayponti was my favorite at the time. She was bold, talented and strong. She had a large forehead and a lovely face. Always wore her hair in a bun and her staff keys would hang on a shoelace around her neck and she would swing them around and around her neck, much like a hula-hoop. She had the greatest voice. Rich like mahogany. Around Christmas, right before bed, I would beg her to sing one more song. Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire....." she would begin, finally, a perfectly pitched, velvet beginning. A church voice. A church voice from the ghetto. Perfectly perfect.

I hated living there, especially amongst the older children. Everyday, I had to look over my shoulder and be prepared to fight, one, two  or more kids, almost always girls. I remember having to fight this one short girl three times because she didn't like that I got the best of her. The last time was at dinner. She was very ghetto. She was goading me, even though I was ignoring her. There were four or five tables, each with about four chairs and separate serving bowls. It was a spaghetti night. I know this because, when I didn't respond she ended up chucking her tables serving bowl of spaghetti at me.  So, that's when I got up and lunged for her, over her table. We ended up on the floor, slipping around in spaghetti, each with fistfuls of hair, my fistfuls a response to hers. Staff had to get  down on the slimy floor and pry her fingers out of my hair. We were then separated. Before that time, she had charged into the bedroom (we were roommates then) saying "Nuh-uh! We going to have a rematch!" She saw me as some kind of challenge. I wasn't thrilled about it. I can hold my own. I had to. I didn't like fighting, in fact I hated it more than anything. It was so against my nature and personal history of being on the receiving end of violence at the hands of my parents. So, learning to give as good as I got took some coming around to, not in small part from certain staff who were tired of watching me get pushed around and told me, on the sly, that I needed to start pushing back. I remember, Dwayne, reminded me of an older version of one of the characters on A Different World, an 80s sitcom about black college students, with his round face and thin mustache, having to convince me that it was ok. I asked him "won't I get in trouble". He never said no, but I was made to understand, unlike anyone else had ever let me know, that I should be and am expected to stand up for myself, even if it means hitting them back.

I wonder about the bully problem kids face. I wonder if solutions are all in the "just ignore it" or "tell an adult". I think sometimes solutions are complicated due to circumstances and ignoring it only makes the kid a victim and makes it worse. I think the solution is having empowered children from the start.

Even now, I can see that being communicated and thought about as my child is a toddler. I certainly don't want any of my issues to be transmitted into my parenting. I think about that as I intervene on toy squabbles. Sometimes, I have to tell myself, the best thing to do is to let them work it out and not intervene. My childhood self wants to rescue her from "all those mean kids" but they aren't those kids they don't have that history and neither does Bella. She has never had a parent beat her; she has never been disrespected or made to feel inferior or unworthy or unloved. She has a parent who has loved her and supported her into the confident, happy girl she has become.

One thing I work on is telling her to tell the other children "No" and "Stop" when they are doing something to her she doesn't like. I want her to be capable and comfortable setting boundaries and to know that that's the right thing to do. She isn't 2 yet so this is all that's on the table at the moment. And learning that her body is her body and deserves to be respected, just as I expect her to respect other people's bodies.

It's a world away from the way I was raised. In so many ways. My ultimate wish is that this girl never has to fight, in fact, comes to learn physical contact as a fun element in the arena of sports like karate, soccer, swimming, and so on. That physical violence and boundaries are different issues. I do worry about what I don't have to give. Like well developed social skills. I mean, I know how to be nice to people but large crowds make me nervous and intimacy still scares me and even though I swear I know how to be a good friend, my two best friends have essentially ditched me since having a kid, one for I suspect subconcious reasons around my Motherhood, since she had a series of miscarriages then got fixed and the other because she's an alcoholic in a miserable relationship and rather than dealing with those things- would rather think it's my friendship- both I expect to hear from at some point down the road- maybe- and both I miss-despite the evolution of our friendships.
From nowhere, Stretchingout thin Extending hands A new chain You can judge What you think you see But you could never See me This incredible Hard Life With vivid translucency Hyper nostalgic Sweetness Greater cruelty than yours Has already been transmuted Not immune Innoculated I walk like A soldier

My Lama, Lama Tharchin Rinpoche