Been very busy of late, with little time to blog. But here is one from the archives on my favorite holiday:
It
is a perfect Thanksgiving morning here [2005] in Northwestern
Massachusetts: a light snow, about 2 inches on the ground; a chill air;
great conditions to be inside and cooking and eating all day. Aidan
and I are here by ourselves, however. Maureen and Maggie are down in
New York City, attending the famous parade. So, we will do the whole
feast thing tomorrow. Today will be just about pie baking: I have a
couple of small pumpkins to bake and make into a pie. If I feel
ambitious, perhaps an apple pie will follow. That will make the house
warm and comfortable.
We are supposed to be thankful today, and I am. But as I give
thanks I can't help wondering: for what am I giving thanks and to whom?
As is my want, I fall back on Taoism to help clarify my thoughts.
And, through that exercise, I come to a somewhat startling realization:
I give thanks for Aidan and his profound disability. I know that
sounds a bit bizarre - how could a parent be thankful for a child's
disability? - but, as I think through it, I am happy to say that I am.
(For other parents thinking about disability, see this recent piece on disability; hap tip: Laura).
First, let's think more generally about the act of thanksgiving. In
the Christian American context, that means giving thanks to God for
all of the good things we have. (We tend to skip over the bad things
today; we focus on the good in order to balance out the bad). What I
like about this idea is the underlying assumption that we do not really
control the course of our lives and we need to be humbly grateful for
the good things that happen along the way. I think that sentiment is
consonant with Taoism.
Of course, a Taoist (at least a philosophic Taoist) would not invoke a
god figure as the ultimate controller of our destinies. Rather, Way
itself (Tao) is the all-inclusive, self-generating, continually
unfolding complex reality that surrounds and shapes our lives. So, a
Taoist would recognize one's subordination to Tao. But would a Taoist
give "thanks"?
In a way (pun!), yes. Although Chuang Tzu tells us that fully
apprehending the uncontrollable power of Tao should lead us to let go of
virtually all emotions ("joy and sorrow never touch you" 92), there is
still room for gratefulness, even if gratefulness assumes a happiness
for which to be grateful. A Taoist can be grateful - and, indeed, can
be happily enchanted - to witness or sense some small part of the
wondrous richness of Tao. This is not a function of education or age:
even the smallest and weakest infant simultaneously absorbs and
expresses a corner of Tao. Indeed, the immaturity and naivety of the
infant is presented as the best state from which to experience Tao:
Embody Integrity's abundance
and you're like the vibrant child...
- Tao Te Ching 55
A Taoist, then, would give thanks, in the sense of recognizing and
gratefully subordinating oneself to uncontrollable forces of Tao that
shape our lives and produce the good (as well as the bad) around us.
It is in that spirit that I give thanks. And as I give thanks in
that way (Way), with Aidan silently sitting next to me in his
wheelchair, air rattling in and out of his tracheostomy tube, I am
thankful for him in precisely the way that he is. I do not regret his
disabilities (this is not Regretsgiving Day, after all). Of course, if I
were some omnipotent divinity able to determine the conditions of his
life, I would call a do-over and have him fully abled in all the ways
he is not now. But I am not omnipotent. I am subordinated to Tao, and
Tao moves as it will, with no heed to my desires or expectations.
But can I be positively grateful for his disability? Yes. I can
because I have come to see that his experience of Tao is just as
valuable and worthwhile as any other experience of Tao. He cannot speak
or see or stand; but he can hear and touch and feel the warmth and
love around him. He takes in Tao and adds to Tao in his own, unique
way. I may think my own understanding of the world around me is
greater or more significant than his, but philosophic Taoists would
scoff at such arrogance. It is, after all, the immature and naive
infant who can "embody Integrity's abundance." It is, after all, our
human-created knowledge that can obstruct our view of Tao.
To be perfectly honest (and I have said this elsewhere),
if I had a choice, I would not change places with him. I am too used
to and happy with my abilities to experience Tao that I would be loath
to give them up. But that might just be my own lack of understanding.
Yet, whatever my own hesitations, I can be fully grateful for him, in
precisely the form he is. It is he, as he is, who has fundamentally
challenged my world view and opened up to me the serenity of philosophic
Taoism. It is he, as he is, who has had myriad good effects on the
people around him. It is he, as he is, who is a perfect expression of
the wholeness of Tao in himself.
So, Happy Thanksgiving. We are happy here. We are thankful. And
among that many things I am grateful for today is Aidan and his
profound disability.
Heartwarming thanks for the post! Happy Thanksgiving!
Posted by: Richard Morisson | November 23, 2012 at 05:52 AM