It doesn't really do any good to be their partner once a week. If you're mean four times and nice one time, that's not enough.
Conscious, continuous and mindful.
Over the past ten years or so there appears to be a resurgence of romanticizing "primitive" cultures, especially in regards to parenting and diet. While one of my favorite things in the world is to sit in front of a campfire and stare at the flames feeling a connection to the people who've come before me and found the same warmth and entertainment in the dancing flames, I think that cherry picking other cultures for their feel-good bits is not only blatantly ethnocentric but also detrimental to unschooling in the modern world.
You can attend a thousand Zen classes at a University and still not understand it because it is something that is internal. You can have a bunch of nice meditation products and still be angry. You can make a big deal out of living simply and still miss all the beauty around you.
It's not about the accoutrements but the "seeing with new eyes."
Sorta like unschooling.
You can read all the books, you can talk to unschoolers, attend a conference and join some lists. But until you GET IT at the internal level, until there is trust and a willingness to extend that trust to your children, unschooling is just a nice idea or philosophy to discuss...nothing more. For those that decide to learn to trust themselves and their children, they soon find their lives a bubbly, interesting swirl of natural learning.
confidenceBuild your nest with
experience
good examples
food patience
shelter enthusiasm
love curiosity
joy
Then I looked up and there's food to be put away, and the counter was all full of dinner.
At first I felt whiney, "why me?" and kind of "DAMN it, I'm tired."
We have containers to make small meals, and I can mix the sauce (which I made in the morning and slow-simmered most of the afternoon) with spaghetti in several little containers, and someone from my family will be glad to find it at some point this weekend, or maybe Keith will save one to take to work for lunch on Monday.
I'm glad we have a refrigerator, and that people in my family not only are willing to eat leftovers, they're glad to find there's some left of something they liked the first time.
We have a dishwasher. That's really wonderful. If all I have to do is rinse dishes and fill it up, that's not much work at all.
I've been listening to World War Z. Marty says some of his favorite stories aren't in the abridged audio book, but that he's heard the audio and it's good.
So I put World War Z to play on the computer, and cleaned up the kitchen I'm glad to have, for the family I love.
Quicker than training a cat not to get on the table, she trained him not to start any books at all.
I am seven years old. I am sitting comfortably with a convenient, safe place to rest my face. Safe. On my father's lap . . . Knowing it is not only ok, but expected of me, to fall asleep. Right here where I already am. My dad will tuck me in when he is done holding me, and it will hardly be my business.
