Children know, instinctively, that every living thing is infused with the spirit of life
Paula, our goldfish, died last week. The au pair secretly plucked it out of the tank and put it in the bin without a word to anyone. By the time the children and I realised that it was dead, the goldfish had gone to the great trashbin in the sky (the dump in Leopardstown). This was unfortunate, because when a loved pet dies, children have a profound psychological need for a funeral and a period of mourning. I racked my brains wondering what to do, then came up with the idea of asking the children to draw pictures of the goldfish which we would then burn in the fireplace.
The children respectfully drew the most beautiful pictures of smiling goldfish they could muster, then burned them and wistfully watched the smoke spiralling up the chimney. My eldest even remarked that the flames were in the shape of a goldfish tail. As we watched, we said prayers and goodbye to "Sarah" and the children were content that a precious life had been meaningfully respected and mourned. The experience got me thinking about children and spirituality, and how about magically immediate their sense of soul is. Children know, instinctively, that every living thing is infused with the spirit of life.
I consider myself a "new age" parent (for want of a better phrase), in that I want my children to have a deep and genuine sense of spirituality, yet I do not subscribe to the dogma of any particular religion. I don't believe in the song-and-dance of going along with organised religion, just because there's nothing better on offer. I am always searching for language with which to talk to my children about issues of ethics and death, without instilling in them the sense, that I had as a child, of a judgmental, "old man" God who would turn on you if you didn't behave. I am not an atheist. I believe in "God" - whoever she may be. I want my children to know that they existed, in spirit, before they were born and that they will continue to exist long after they have died. They have experienced the deaths of people close to them and we have often talked about how, even though a body has died, the soul continues. They seem to intuit - far better than I or any adult could - that even though a person has died, the essence of that person is still available to them in the form of love and spirit.
For children, this understanding is entirely natural, even if it is difficult to put words on. Which is why I was delighted to find a book which puts a language on this area: Becoming Me: A Story of Creation by Martin Boroson, illustrated by Christopher Gilvan-Cartwright (Francis Lincoln, £12.99 sterling). Now that I have it in the house, I look at it as a discussion document on spirituality which, amazingly, is as appealing to me as it is to my kids. Boroson, who lives in Ranelagh, Dublin, is at the cutting edge of spirituality for the new age. A graduate of Yale University, he also has an MBA from the Yale school of management and trained in holotropic breathwork with Dr Stanislov Grof. Now he lectures and leads workshops in the field of transpersonal psychology.
He was meditating on the nature of God when the words of the book began to emerge and he said to himself, "this is like a children's book," and laughed at the simplicity of it. The first line goes: "Once upon a time . . . I was." And it continues: "There was nobody who knew that I was . . . but I was." With an unerring sense of direction, the book describes precisely the feeling of knowing that you existed before your birth, but not quite being able to describe how. Don't be too sceptical. This book is on the best-seller list of the North America Catholic Book Publishers' Association, and has been endorsed by the evolutionary theorist, Ervin Laszlo, science advisor to the director general of UNESCO, who says that the book "undoubtedly captures the emerging spirit of the 21st century".
Boroson believes in a vision of God as an "experience beyond boundaries that can be found within each of us" and thinks that this vision is precisely what we need in a multicultural society. "The conflicts of multiculturalism are forcing us to find a deeper understanding of God," he says. "It's no longer acceptable to imagine God as a superpower version of a white man, or to play `my God is better than your God'. Today, many people want a more embracing, universal understanding of God."
As we approach Christmas - with its consumerist ethic of buy, buy, buy - it is worth thinking about the original message of the holiday, which is to celebrate the birth of a child who embodied God on earth. Martin believes that all children embody God in their creativity and joy in life and that we need to encourage them to celebrate this, rather than indulging them with more and better toys. So, while I know it's only November 21st, put Martin's book on your Christmas list.
