Legacy

Watching children play is somewhere between joy and torture. I'm always happy to join, but typically it means the same activity repeated over and over and over and over and over and over and- well, you get it.

Thanks to my first stop being in Kansas City, I've been able to spend a ton of time with my nephew. He is into Spiderman and puzzles. He is currently potty training and he is only just about to be 2* (for personal context, I didn't really get into using the bathroom on my own until I was closer to 4). My favorite thing is watching him mirror reactions to movies, laughing at jokes he obviously doesn't get just yet.

One day, while we were playing with puzzles (Avenger's themed) and watching a movie (Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse) when he began to very not-gently pull apart his puzzle. In fact, he pulled one of the 'loops' right off. He then turned to me, 'Hep me, peas Titi.', puzzle and piece in hand, pressing them to my chest urgently.

'Sorry buddy, you broke it, I can't fix your puzzle. This is why we are gentle with our toys.'

He didn't get it the first time (I mean, who ever does?) but once he peeled off part of the Spiderman on his Avengers puzzle (with me chorusing 'Hey, that's not how we treat our puzzles!' in the background) I think he finally understood: some things cannot be fixed. He didn't take it as poorly as one would expect an almost two year-old to.

He's nicer to his puzzles now but sometimes he forgets that he doesn't enjoy the consequences of ruining them, only remembering in time to gently stroke the paper back into place. Sometimes though, it's too late. The wrinkles are there. The folds present. He carries on fine because Spiderman- but those moments stuck with me.

Because part of me thought to just let him ruin his toys. He's the one who will have to suffer the consequences of his actions. And besides, the puzzles are his, right? He can do whatever he wants to them.

I didn't like the sound of that. It sounded like him first taking and breaking his toys, then taking and breaking the toys of others that he decides are his. It sounded like 'mine mine mine' becoming justification for harm. It sounded like 'mine mine mine' absolving one of responsibility of said harm.

Once broken, certain things cannot be fixed. What comes to mind in no particular order: Eggs, atoms, trust, Earth's atmosphere.

Admittedly, most other things are fixable, but they are never the same. Humans have created, destroyed and culled new life from the ashes many times. I'm reminded of our great empires- Roman, Ottoman, Qing, Persian, etc.- and how they have all fallen, their claims of 'mine, mine, mine', echoing across time.

I'm reminded of a conversation I had with an okay Christian man. He introduced me to this idea that man is steward of the Earth and its resources. That as steward, man is divinely blessed to utilize those resources however he pleases. But we're not exactly doing great.

We have this planet. We have free will. But for some reason we are the only creatures who look at our place in nature and say, no thanks. We are the only creatures who knowingly create or perpetuate harmful imbalances in our ecosystems and say, oh well. We are the only creatures who look at the patterns of our planet, attempt to exempt ourselves from them and say, our right.

I'm reminded that we are the only creatures who take 'mine' as a license to abuse, destroy, control and neglect because we believe we can survive the consequences.

I do not claim to be innocent of the abuses that 'mine' can create. Down to the very body I live in, my capacity for abuses both large and small is evident. But I also know better.

Ownership does not permit abuse.

I've learned that ownership is a responsibility beyond just 'having' and 'having power over'. If anything, it means one should be more compassionate, more caring. There are so many who do choose to use 'mine' as the mast upon which they hook the sails of goodness and search for steady, gentle winds to carry them into the future. They care for the things they call 'mine' because they understand a fundamental truth- that most things are really 'ours'.

Not just 'ours' as in those of us still here but 'ours', as in all of us from the past who never dreamed their favorite tree would grow to cast a shadow so large and 'ours' as in all of us of the future who would uphold the right of a tree to simply grow where it was planted.

To summarize, I won't let my nephew ruin all his toys.

If he does, that is, of course, his choice but I am here to remind him to be gentle. With his puzzles, with his toy cars, and especially with himself (no easy feat when he is intent on rolling himself off the edge of the couch onto the floor... we just add pillows because it's really fun to watch lol). And, thanks to the tortur- I mean- the joy of the repetitive nature of child's play, I get to remind him to be gentle over and over and over and over and over and over and-- you get it.

My hope is that it will help him be wiser, kinder and gentler in his choices. That he will grow up learning how important it is to be good to his planet, his communities and himself. That he learns what his care and compassion- his stewardship- are capable of, and that he learns to use his power well.

Because with great power comes great responsibility... or something like that.

*My nephew has turned two since this was written. Wish him a happy birthday!