Unity is indeed plural – an emerging story of fatherhood
My father and I have always been close. He taught me about the love of life, the love of work. From an early age, he was guided by passion towards his career and work.
As a young woman searching for meaningful work, I envied that clarity. I was always a generalist and therefore could choose one thousand paths.
My father, now 87, is still working. The work ethic is strong in our family, and retirement has never been something I have considered.
At some stage in my early fifties, I realised I was snared in the cultural mythology of the punishing father God. To have this pointed out to me was a point of both horror and disintegration. To recognise how subtle enculturation is that it defines intelligence or worldliness.
But in that recognition to find compassion for others still trapped in the various forms of this redundant mythology.
The role of father is thankfully changing. To enculturate the father to be the provider, the ultimate protector, the authority, the power, and those to be first sacrificed in the foolish game of war, is an old story that needs composting.
It asks too much, while also eliminating the most magnificent dance of Universe. That of the masculine and feminine, the yin and yang, to play, partner, collaborate together.
This is the only way forward. Not one over the other, either overt or covert. But essential to each other, the two sides of the single.
To meet my love, who took on the role of single fatherhood at the tender age of 22, and did so with all in commitment, to now be dancing in partnership with him, is to embody a healing in us, a healing that is significant for all the world. I say this not with arrogance, but in the certain knowing that we, and other co-partnerships in all their shapes and sizes, are writing a new story.
The story that unity is indeed plural. Not one. Not the other. Both together.
Photo taken September 6th 2020
