Cædmon Comma

First Snow

My Son,

Tonight when you awoke crying, I picked you up and held you and rocked you, and tried to buy a few more minutes of rest for your mother. I parted the curtains in your room and showed you the results of our first, hard snow. We gazed upon the winter that covered our house, and our world.

Your mother loves winter. She thinks the snow is beautiful, and looks forward to seeing the whiteness hang from the pines. It is nothing for her to clap at the first sign of snow or dance in the midst of storm.

While I thought about the beauty of your mother and the inevitability of the seasons, you quietly gnawed on my shoulder looking for nourishment, as if my shoulder would somehow lactate with enough chewing. Someday, you will reach such a state of intellectual brilliance, that you will realize that no shoulder will ever lactate. But, by that time, you will have seen twenty-eight winters and life upon life.

I pray that you will learn much from your mother. I pray that someday you will be able to dance in a world of snow, fueled by the knowledge of a not so distant season of bloom.

Don't take this world seriously, my son. It will only make you cold.


I already see your strength,
Dad

Caedmon Comma

Summoner

My son, when you were still inside your mom, I thought you looked like an alien. You don't look so much like an alien now, but I'm still a little creeped out by you.

The moment you arrived, you ripped the most startling emotions out of me that I have ever felt. When I saw you and held you, I felt as if I could burst into a billion tiny particles and melt away in an explosion of happiness and gratitude. Such joy is so rare, and you summon it so often.

Since then, you have evoked something that I can only describe as holiness. When I'm with you I feel selfless, and even sacrificial. I jump at the opportunity to change a diaper! Anything to serve you my son! What power you wield! How can you provoke such feelings? What alien power did you bring with you?

Tonight I logged onto this computer and spent a solid hour looking at pictures of you and your mom. It was almost painful. My family is so beautiful. every picture and every memory moved and hurt.

But, why hurt? Why pain?

I don't know. I think maybe you've startled something in me. Maybe since the day you were born you have so overwhelmed me with joy that it hurts. I don't know. Whatever it is, I like it.

Life can be a dry lakebed and it can also be a sudden flood. Whatever it brings your way, please know that if you need anything, you need but summon me.

I am so glad that you are here, my boy... I am so glad you're here...

In the quiet,
when I pray,
my prayers are filled with thanksgivings

Cædmon Comma

ascent

Cædmon,

The other night I had a dream.

On a flight to somewhere, we crashed upon some high and distant mountain. You survived and I survived, but your mother was gone. Cold atop the mountain, you and I started our descent and left all that grief and wreckage behind. I wrapped you in every last stitch of clothing I could find, and started stumbling and trudging down the mountain, holding you in my arms.

It seemed with every step, the wind blew colder, and the path grew steeper until I slipped and slid on my back down a long, treacherous slope. The white world flew past us at break neck speed and I tried to put my feet out to slow us down, but nothing would. So, with tired arms I held you closer and tighter and that hoped we'd be okay. We finally landed, with a soft thud, in an embankment of snow.

You started crying. I talked to you; I held you against me as I walked once again. You still cried. So, I took off my own coat and faced the bitter breeze to make you warmer. Still you cried.

"I'm trying, buddy," I whispered, "I'm doing all I can."

I walked and I walked and eventually your crying ceased. I could see nothing but white, but still I walked on. With every step I trudged, I could feel less of my body, until, with a certain numbness I blindly stumbled toward elevations below. And with every shiver I felt from you, I stopped and asked your forgiveness. I prayed your cries would return.

With an urgency, I walked and I walked and I walked as the snow fell all around…

And, then, when I could walk no more, I looked up and saw the warm places of the world all around and people were there to help.

Overjoyed, I removed layer after layer from my arms, and found you bundled beneath. Your body was cold – so cold. You weren't breathing; you weren't moving. So, I turned away from the warm places and the people, and holding your soft still form, I ascended the mountain. We walked back into the cold.

My son, this was, perhaps, as awful a dream as I could ever have. But, when the awakening finally came, I wondered at the joy of experiencing something… together.

Dad

Cædmon Comma

Cædmon,

Someday you will eat from the fruit of the tree – the Tree of the Knowledge. And you will partake. Perhaps you'll partake because the fruit looks appealing. Perhaps you'll partake because a friend will give a taste to a friend. Perhaps you'll partake at the behest of a snake's whispers.

I know you'll eat the fruit. I did. And you will enjoy the taste. I did. But as you bite into the inevitable fruit, do not too quickly forget the time before you reached the Knowledge. Someday, my son, innocence will be a memory, a forgotten taste.

I hope, someday, when the fruit of the Knowledge churns within you, I hope you remember ...

I'm not sure, but I suspect that the Knowledge, in some way, make life better. But, it also makes us older, and robs us of our sleep. I suspect that the Knowledge keeps us from each other, keeps a wall between us. I suspect that there is a time in our future when we will walk together without inhibition. And the Knowledge will be a memory, a taste unforgotten.

Dad

Caedmon Comma

Caedmon,

Today I watched you sleeping in my arms. Beneath your closed lids, your eyes moved, painting a dreamscape. What do you dream of?

Dreams feed on the events of our days. But you have only been here for a matter of hours. What do you dream of?

Could it be that your dreams are filled with memories of the days when you lived within your mother. Do you dream of a place, warm and liquid, where the world is at peace and closed? Do you hear the harmonies of the utopia that you came from?

I hope, my son, that your days out here will be full of dreams dreamed and dreams fulfilled.

Caedmon Emmanuel

My son, Caedmon Emmanuel LeCureux, was born at 11:50am, September 28th. Mom' did great and bothe she and the baby are healthy.

My Child Comma

My Child,

I don't remember a lot of things. I don't even remember the day I was born and I don't remember the sounds that filled the time in my mother's womb. I wonder if there was a voice that spoke in that womb, a voice that I have forgotten.

Soon. Soon you will arrive here in this world full of want. We, the people all want so much. So we pray. We ask some mysterious illusive notion for much but not as much as you would think. Mostly we ask for a momentary relief from these troubles.

Your father has often gone petitioning to this god. When I was not much older than you, I would fall to sleep looking out the window at the stars and talking to a god, talking to a god who listened and listened night after night.

The nights turned to weeks and years and I needed him to hear me less and less. As I grew older I started needing him to speak. I needed him to answer my questions and my wantings. And so he spoke... several times he has spoke to me of late. And every time that he has spoken to me, he has told me that he loves me. That is all I have heard from him, that he loves me and loves me and loves me and loves me and loves me...

He has never answered my questions. Is he hiding something or is his love so urgent? Is it so difficult to break through my petitioning that he can only speak the most potent message from a distance?

I pray so rarely now.

I know, my child, I know this god is good. I know so little about this god but I know that he is good. So, listen to him while he speaks, and speak to him while he listens. And teach us about such rhythm and sound.

Can you hear him now? In the midst of the rhythmic beats of your mothers heart do you hear the voice that we, the people, have forgotten?


----------------
Now playing: Third Eye Blind - I Want You
via FoxyTunes

Image Source: deviant art

My Child Comma

I haven't wrote to you in some time. There's a reason - I haven't liked you much lately. Since I last wrote you, I have had trouble sleeping, focusing and I have cycled through some rare emotions.

Everyone tells me how wonderful it is to be a father and that parenthood changes and defines a persons life and reality. They're probably right, but the changes aren't always easy. In recent weeks financial stresses, relational insecurities, and professional frustrations have loomed large. I have found myself awake in the night, unable to sleep and trying not to think of you.

I feel like a damned fool for saying it, but you're going to arrive at a bad time. And I can't help but resent you for it.

It's not your fault, I know. And we'll make it just fine, I know.

But, when the problems are mine, why is it that I flee from you?

My Child Comma

sanding

My Child,

I spent almost all day yesterday sanding the floor of what will be your room. Beneath the carpet, we found some old wood flooring in pretty rough shape. So, we're preparing it for your arrival. Soon, we'll stain, we'll varnish, and watch the floor shine in anticipation of your arrival.

You'll have to excuse a couple spots on the floor. They almost appear gray. I think they are spots where furniture has scraped the floor in some time in the past. I like to think that such scars show age and experience. I like to think that these blemishes make the floor well qualified to walk upon and fall against.

I thought about the worst harm. This worst harm is that harm which we inflict on our selves. I still carry the guilt and consequences of the times I've hurt others. I carry the pain. I like to think that such scars show age and experience. I like to think that these blemishes make me well qualified to walk upon and fall against.

Somewhere in the midst of sanding that floor, I stopped, sat down on the floor, and watched as the sun descended somewhere beyond the window... somewhere beyond the West. They say there are mountains in the West - mountains that can reach up and touch the whiteness of the clouds. But, the mountains are jagged and pocked from erosion and experience. How extraordinary to experience so much... to touch the sky...

I thought about you. I thought about the skies you will touch.

My Child Comma

Pantheon

My Child,

Your mother swears she can feel you kicking. She says this is a sign that you will be an active child. I don't know about all that, but it does get me thinking about you, about what you are soon going to be like. What will you kick against out here?

Kick against much, my child, kick against much.

For, out here, in this vast Pantheon, we are surrounded with small tremulous gods born out of want and need, but they are found wanting when called on for provision and truth. Their disciples spout mad creeds and justify unending battles, and I fear we are left staring up at the crumbling structures and strictures that threaten to fall upon our heads.

Your mother says you will be active. That's good, for there is much to do, much to kick.

Listen to me - planning your life. I should not do that. Perhaps you will look at the world with an apathy that I will envy. Or perhaps you will love walking these ruins staring at the warmonger Ares, or the rapist patriarch, Zeus. Perhaps you will spout mad creeds and justifications. Whatever makes you happy. But, I only ask that when Zeus approaches, you kick. You deserve more than the mockery affections of these lesser gods, my child.

I hope you find enough deity within yourself, within your mother's love. I hope your Elysium will be more than a dream whisper - I hope you can wake to it, and look upon it with the weary eyes of morning.

I guess I'm just looking forward to walking through this Pantheon with you, teaching you and learning from you, like too small archaeologists amongst the ruins of wisdom.

Right now, you are a small unified perfection, and when you finally enter this Pantheon, you can only degenerate into the most boisterous deity.

My Child Comma

My Child,

I feel like I should apologize. You see, in this - the only reality I have ever known - I have never been a father. I'm still struggling to figure out what the term "Father" means. So, you, my child, are the first child in my reality. That means I am certain to fail, I'm certain to dissapoint. I haven't had any practice. Hopefully, you will find enough grace to allow me to be this first time Father, this bumbling, baffled dad.

You have no idea how intimidating you are. Sometimes I fear that I am yet too adolescent and childish to do you any good. In this, the only reality I've ever known, I've always had a dad of my own. Now, the tables have turned. The questions plague - Am I ready? Can I do this?

But, I'll try... I'll try to make this (the only reality you will ever know) a wonderful, playful, loving joy - an existence bright and beautiful. You deserve it. God help me to give it to you. God help this bumbling, baffled dad to become a Father - capable and caring.

My Child Comma

My Child,
When I was younger, I loved music so much that I would try and get the music as close to my brain as possible. At that time, radios had headphones, but they were huge monstrosities that looked like a pilot should be wearing them while listening to some mundane instructions from distant voices.

Nonetheless, I would put these headphones on, turn the volume up as much as possible and bask in the melody, the harmony, and the rhythm... the sound of it all. But, full volume and huge headphones weren't enough. So I would reach up, and press the phones against my ears so they were closer, closer to my brain; so that the sound of it was not only part of what I heard, it was all that I heard. I pressed the phones until the music drowned out those mundane instructions from distant voices.

Today, headphones are almost microscopic. A person can be listening to a "nano" music device at full blast and you can hardly tell. But, the music, my child... you should hear the music! It is so full of anger and grace and beauty that I fear, sometimes, that the Earth will burst for want of space.

Will you even enjoy music? Will all that rhythm, fury and sound mean anything to you at all?

Perhaps you enjoy music even now. Some people say that I'm supposed to place those giant headphones on your mother's protruding belly, and let you listen... to beauty. But, I wonder if you can hear your mother's heart - it is so close to you - as it thumps and beats like a drum of flesh. Do you hear the inhale/exhale, liquid melodies of anatomy and grace? Do you hear your mother and I in the night, whispering about you with hushed joy and silent pleasures?

Maybe you will love music, or maybe it will be an escape. Maybe one day, you will press impossibly large headphones against your ears until distant voices fade away. Maybe one of those voices will be mine. But, until then, my child, enjoy this musical time; be enchanted by this symphony somatic. And someday, we will sing
of you
and for you
and with you.

Keelie Comma

I guess you don't need it
I guess you don't want me to repeat it
But everything I have to give I'll give to you
It's not like we planned it
You tried to stay, but you could not stand it
To see me shut down slow
as though it was an easy thing to do

Listen when
All of this around us'll fall over
I tell you what we're gonna do
You will shelter me my love
And I will shelter you
I will shelter you

- Ray LaMontagne, "Shelter"

My Child Comma

My Child,

Today your mother was trying to illustrate for me how long you were and that started us into a discussion about the best way to illustrate two and a half inches. Whatever the best way is, you are still very small right now.

And I wonder what it must be like to live a strange small life inside such a one as your mother. She is this startling, wonderful package of laughter and love and whispered beauty. Does that mean that you are floating in all that? How wonderful that must be.

Your mother tells me about how warm and safe it is inside of her - where you live now. And as she tells me this, I can't help but think that it will be warm and safe out here, too. And that is because of your mother.

I read this book, from time to time, that talks about a reality that is safe and warm in a future time, a future world. And I think in that time, we will all be like children again. And I think there, our Mother will surround us with love.

Take up your arm
Sons and daughters
We will arise from the bunkers
By land, by sea, by dirigible
We'll leave our tracks untraceable now

When we arrive
Sons and daughters
We'll make our lives on the water...

Here all the bombs fade away

-The Decemberists
"Sons and Daughters"

My Child Comma

My Child,

travels

Long ago we lost the blues-fed longing for mercy that made the world so glad. My child, somewhere long ago we lost the lonely vocation that would wrap us with all the silly wonder we now long to find. And even I, your father, can look back on a long trail spanning two decades. I can see my path clearly - it is littered with ideals that have fell from me, step after step, compromise galore.

And now, the Utopia I was supposed to build for you seems far far away. It may be too far for me to ever achieve; but I can guarantee that the road there will not be crowded. It won't be filled with the throng.

I cannot commend you to it, but I hope that you will go.

Keelie Comma

When I am alone
When I’ve thrown off the weight of this crazy stone
When I've lost all care for the things I own
That's when I miss you, that's when I miss you,
You who are my home
And here is what I know now
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love...

- Alexi Murdoch
From "Orange Sky"

My Child Comma

My child,

It snowed so much yesterday. You should have seen it.

You have made your mother very tired lately. She came home yesterday dizzy and badly in need of a rest on the couch. It's good, though - please know that. We are so happy to have your pleasent inconveniences in our life.

I have been learning a lot about myself lately and a lot about what happened to me when I was smaller, when I was younger. And, I've learned that so much of what happened then has made me what i am now. I now know that I learned long ago how to run from the deepest emotions. I ran because my deep emotions were like dark, mysterious caves and when i was younger and smaller I needed to stay away from those caves - those frightening places. But, now your mother gives me so much love and affection that it opens up those deep caves and I try to run and I try to hide and i tis so hard to remember that I am bigger now - I'm older. I can deal with caves now.

My child, when you are in my arms and in my home, I hope my caves and my deep places are open to you.

It snowed so much yesterday. You should have seen it. Pure white snow covered the whole world and made it bright and beautiful.

My Child Comma

Potential

My Child,

The other day your mother and I went to the doctor's office. They told us all sorts of mundane and boring details about you. They told us about your nutrition and your needs. Right now, you are so small they refer to you as cellular. You're so small that you're a microscopic jumble of potential and magic.

I have so much that I'm going to tell you, to show you... so much we're going to see. Your mother touches her abdomen and smiles in beauty, and right now you are hiding safely somewhere inside of all that beauty.

God help me, I hope it is warm and safe for you out here with me. We can hide, together. I'm going to try so hard - I really will.

Right now, you're so small that you're just a jumble of potential and magic. But, your heart will soon be beating and I swear I can hear your anointing from here. Such music is so kind, so beautiful ... full of magic and hope...