of our lives that is “lost” to slumber? As a society we seem to be asking the same questions about childhood. What purpose does it serve? Can we speed it up? Can we better prepare our children for adulthood by treating them more like adults?
I worry that we’ll understand the “purpose” of childhood by seeing, increasingly, what people are like when they’ve been rushed through theirs. And I don’t think that will be a pretty picture. Childhood has its own mysterious processes, its own pace. When we ask children to “keep up” with a speeded-up world, I believe we are unconsciously doing them harm. We are depriving them of exactly what they need to make their way in an increasingly complex world: well-being and resiliency. And yet I sincerely believe that there are many things we can do as parents to buffer and protect our children’s childhoods.
I was giving a lecture recently and on my way heard a report about global warming. Now James, the dear little fellow I describe earlier, had taught me quite a bit about the subject. But I was thinking as I drovethat when problems seem overwhelming, we often rush at them in a state of pure anxiety. Off we go (walking) to the hardware store for recycling bins and fluorescent lightbulbs, stopping first to look at hybrid cars (conveniently, on the way), while picking up trash and making a silent vow that from this day forward organic cotton will be the only fabric to ever touch our children’s skin. Why must we do all of this—and more—immediately, if not sooner? To plug up that bloomin’ hole in the ozone, of course! Yet our actions would be so much more consistent and ongoing if our motivation were not anxiety, but compassion: a desire to protect the earth.
This reminds me of a man who came to one of my lectures. This guy came under duress, I’m quite certain, at his wife’s insistence. Afterward we happened to be standing next to each other, and he turned to me. “Well done!” he said, kindly, about my talk, though I’m not sure he was awake through all of it. “Food for thought, isn’t it? I’m a Harvard man myself, and I doubt my Ben will be following my lead unless we get his attention up to snuff! I’ll make up a simplification list right away. He has exams next year; do you think that’s enough time to get this all turned around?” Now, this man was too well rested to be anxious, but the point is … he was missing the point. Acting out of anxiety doesn’t usually lead to long-term efforts, or changes, much less large-scale transformations. The point of simplification is not to improve Ben’s SAT scores (much as we wish the boy well). Ben’s well-being is the goal. Imagine the motivation and inspiration we can bring to our efforts with the larger goal of protecting our beloved children’s childhoods? Childhood is also an all-important environment, with its own systems, its own natural processes. And society is poking quite a few holes in the protective filter that should surround childhood to buffer it from adult life and concerns.
The good news is that there are many things we can do as parents to protect the environment of childhood. There are many ways that we can erect filters to stop the speed and stress of adult life from pouring, unchecked, into our kids’ homes, heads, and hearts. As my work has become increasingly focused on simplification, I have seen how effective this process can be in restoring a child’s sense of ease and well-being. It shifts a family’s direction, so that their daily life efforts are in concert, not in opposition, with their dreams.
Before we focus on each layer of simplification in the chapters ahead, I want to give you an overview of the process. I’ll take you through a consultation, asking you some of the same questions I’veasked other families to consider. In order to act out of hope rather than fear, out of reverence for childhood rather than fear of our times, simplification begins with dreams.