The KID is Still Here

 Just had my weekly breakfast at Chick-Fil-A with Bruce.  He is my psychologist, confidant, long time friend/priest.  As we were leaving I commented that it wasn’t all that busy for a Friday morning adding that maybe the rapture had come and we hadn’t made the cut.  As we hit the parking lot he added isn’t it amazing we still think that way even though we don’t believe it.  What we heard, what we were taught, as kids is still on a tape back in the hallways of our minds.  

In PJs on our front porch 

A couple of days ago a song by Patrick Ki came on in the car.  I was instantly transported to the moment when I first heard him play.  I was in Sedona at Tlaquepaque with my ‘inner child’ standing on a balcony listening to Patrick play guitar on a plaza below. 

In our kitchen--often shirtless, shoeless, cheeks of tan 

 Back then I was in Phoenix / Scottsdale for three weeks of intensive therapy.  I had met the director, Ralph Earle, through professional circles and knew of him via his family connection with the Nazarene church years before.  His father had written a monthly article in The Herald of Holiness, the denominational magazine. The first week there the therapists—and you see several—were trying to connect me with my inner child.  My attitude as a counselor myself about inner child theories had been skeptical at least if not just thinking it was bunk.  My therapists faced an uphill battle getting me to recognize this kid.  The days were teary and exhausting so by the end of the week I told Ralph that if the other two weeks were a continuation of the same, I was out of there.  

He assured me it would not be.  I told him I was in Arizona for the first time not knowing how to spend my free weekend. I was concerned too that if some of what had been dredged up came up over the weekend, what would I do since they’d encouraged me to not communicate with friends or family.  He wrote down his phone number for me to call in case.  He added he was going to be with Pat Carnes so if I had an emotional blowout and called, I would likely be in one of their books or videos.  

Kindergarten photo

 I asked for suggestions of what to do.  Ralph said to take the child I’d met with me to Sedona.  My first response was to tell him I was seriously concerned about my weekend so cut the ‘inner child’ crap—but then another inner voice did say I was paying a lot for their counsel so why not take it.

Saturday morning I got up acting as if I had a six year old with me.  We went to Sedona and discovered Tlaquepaque village—a recreated Guadalajara, Mexico. I got into the mind space that I was holding this kid’s hand as we walked along.  My old attitude about inner children was “I’m sorry for your personal history and that you went through that, but suck it up!  Life is tough”—then kick him in the butt and get on with it.  What I’d seen that first week of counseling—this was the kind of parent I’d been to that kid, my own. I had done the same thing that Bruce Willis had done in the movie, The Kid, years ago—ignoring and wishing the kid would go away.  As ‘my’ friend Bruce and I realized again leaving Chick-fil-A, inner kids do not grown up.  We’ve got to learn to care for and love them. I’d been an awful parent to myself—should have been turned in for neglect. 

So as this imaginary kid and I walked the village in one shop we saw a laser cut rock with a beautiful detailed snowflake on one side.  When I flipped it over the word ‘unique’ was on that side.  I looked at Mike (strange I know) and said “well that would certainly apply to you.  You’ve heard other monikers applied to ‘us’—weird, odd, creep, queer—but this fits you best”.  So I—or we—bought the rock.  

Years later standing on the same balcony at Tlaquepaque 

He and I had hot dogs for lunch.  We went on a Pink Jeep Tour and had a great time.  We returned to Tlaquepaque that afternoon, standing on that balcony I was realizing with a fun day I’d had with ‘Mike’, doing what he wanted to do, taking care of him.  Listening to Patrick’s guitar tears were flowing again.  I actually got down on my knees at my little Mike’s level and apologized for being such a poor parent and vowed to change that in the future.  

So when my child shows up (with some frequency) with his fears and his old beliefs and ways of seeing things, I’ve learned to stop, pull him close and assure him he is ok, you—we—will be ok.  

There is great wisdom in learning to forgive yourself for who you’ve been in the past.  Brenda, my primary therapist in Arizona, told me toward the end of our time, “Mike, you are never stronger that when you are living, speaking from your own truth”.  Twenty-five years later that still rings true.  

Richard Rohr taught me that knowing my truth, my little ’t’ will be a pathway to ultimate truth, the big ’T’.  Richard is correct as well.  Knowing myself, owning my stuff, trusting my own path is central for the journey I am on—each of us is on.  

A sculpture at Tlaquepaque in Sedona ironically a symbol of my three weeks in Arizona 

An ironic thing is that one of the richest gifts of my friendship with Bruce is how in our conversations can often melt down into intense laughter, silliness to some.  Our inner children play well together.  Even though I still have my moments questioning ‘inner child theory’—I see its benefits.  There is a balance each of us needs to achieve between self focus (the child) and our outreach to others.  Like all balance, forces will always be working against it.  In the mean time, I plan to keep my Friday morning play date with Bruce.  It is priceless in maintaining my sanity.  

I had written about this experience in 1999 here on the blog.   This is an addendum. 

A few more old photos

one year photo

A favorite photo with my Granddad Booher and grandmother Birdie at their country store

Already skeptical about Santa Claus