This morning, watching as our increasingly independent, sixteen year-old son, Mateo, got on his bike and rode off to buy breakfast tacos on his own, without asking for any cash, much less my parental permission or companionship, my mind drifted off on a dewy-eyed trip down memory lane, back to the days of his youth. General reminiscences of his soft little fingers tucked into mine while crossing busy streets, gave way to images of one particular day when Mateo was about four years old and we were playing a game he had made up called "The Guy in Charge". This involved a role-reversal, where for a couple of hours, Mateo was the one in charge of making decisions about where we went, what we ate and how to do/not do things. Of course, I reserved the parental veto power during the game, though I did my best to refrain from exercising that option except when absolutely necessary for the sake of our safety or financial sanity.
HEADING OUT
This time, Mateo wanted to ride a VIA trolley car, so we parked the car near downtown and found our way to the nearest bus stop. He picked which of the two trolley routes we took, paid the conductor our fare and chose our seats. But a few minutes later, bored with sitting on the trolley, he wanted to get off and run around. I was a little disappointed, since we'd only ridden a few blocks and felt we hadn't gotten our money's worth of bus fare. But with my fingers firmly tucked into the grasp of his little hand, he led me off the bus at the next stop, and onto the steps of the nearby gazebo at Alamo Plaza.
Soon he was zooming up and down those steps, climbing the railings and running laps around the snow-cone vendors, insisting that I keep up with him every step of the way. I did my best for awhile, but was no match for his boundless wellspring of youthful energy, so I was grateful when he wanted to go look inside the Alamo, where I hoped to find a bench where I could sit and rest. But he quickly realized that this was one of those buildings where people are supposed to stay very quiet and keep their hands off everything - and he wanted no part of it. But he also knew that his father wasn't up for any more running or climbing. It was time for a different strategy.
LEADING FORTH
Grabbing one of the free maps of the Alamo grounds from the information rack he headed out the door. Once outside, he unfolded the map and studied it very intently, turning it this way and that. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"Deciding which way to go on this map," he said with a disarming mixture of nonchalance and confidence, as if he really could read the words and discern directions, which he clearly couldn't. But without skipping a beat, he pointed confidently down the street, saying, "The map says we should go that way!"
Off we went, wandering through the heart of downtown San Antonio and the Riverwalk area, with Mateo "reading" his map periodically, each time pointing in another direction with absolute certainty that "the maps says we should go this way!" Down to the river level, up to the street level, back down to the river, going in and out of one store after another. He found the lobby of the Riverwalk Hyatt Hotel particularly entertaining, because there were several sets of glass-sided elevators, from which we could watch an endless parade of pedestrians walking through the sprawling, fountain-filled lobby below while zooming up and down between eleven floors. Each time we emerged from one elevator, he would consult the map again, and then solemnly declare, "The map says we should take that elevator next." It was hilarious, though I did my best to keep a straight face.
TURNING WITHIN
It was probably during our ninth or tenth consecutive elevator ride that I couldn't help chuckling, when I realized that what made this particular adventure so funny was that Mateo was mirroring the way I often act when faced with Big Decisions: I tend to defer to someone else for advice or instructions on what to do. Whether it's a therapist, a friend or the author of some bestselling self-help book, there's this temptation to think that some outside "authority" can make the decisions for me, ignoring the fact that there really is no external map that can guide me through the complex interior landscape of my soul's path through life.
Of course, others can and do provide valuable insights. But sooner or later, I have to set aside my "map" and all the other external sources of information, then turn within to align with the Still Small Voice, and claim the power of making my own choice(s) from the inside out. Only then can I stop zooming up and down on the "elevators" of thoughts, feelings and emotions long enough to return to the place of peace, harmony and abundance which is my birthright...
MOVING ON
That was twelve years ago. Although his soft little fingers have become much longer and stronger, and he's much more likely to be playing his guitar than wandering around downtown with me, the lesson he taught me that morning continues to come in handy. Thanks, Mateo!
With joy,
Rudi
