Children are the most honest, incredible creations known to man. They are reflections, reminders and voices of all things that concern their parents and guardians. They are the anchors of their own universes.
In this construction of life and family around them, they have the uncanny ability to change and charge a family’s orbit and focus depending on how their talents are focused on and presented.
For those children such as myself, whose natural bent is towards the arts, we are a little odd. And because we are of that ilk, we don’t fit into the shiner boxes.
In the shuffling and adjusting of the presented talents, as it were, we sometimes shape and push them towards what is more comfortable to us. The stranger thing? Children know what they are good at, and they look to their support systems to confirm and affirm those things in them which they know make them unique and special.
When children know what their bents are but are pushed toward what is alien? It will never fit and may only inter itself inside them until such a time it can bloom without hindrance. For me? It was writing. My father thought nursing or medicine would better portray and express my intelligence—the artist didn’t suit his vision of me. But, yet—here I am.
Of all the great potential children have, we cannot make it or reshape it to what we believe is more comfortable or profitable for us. We cannot live through them due to what we allowed to die in us.
Their lives are our investments, but their talents are not our rights. As those that love and support them, we must value them as an entire person first before we begin to sink our teeth into what we believe is profitable.
Children profit the world and should be able to have the confidence to try their gift on without constant criticism of what and how they wear it.