One of the scariest thoughts as a parent is to guide your children to be suspicious of authority and confident enough to defy it when appropriate. Well, that doesn’t get scary until they figure out you’ve been the primary authoritarian in their lives.
They’re natural rebels. They exert their individuality before they can speak. We spend much of their early years bringing them under our control. There are a lot of good, loving reasons to do that. It takes a braver love to make room for their wings to form.
My sons are quickly becoming men. Not hardened by tragedy, but strengthened by it. They’re troublemakers and I love it, at least I try to.
Today Isaac found the Rage Against the Machine shirt I gave Mary years ago when we saw them at Lollapalooza.
Bombs. I was the bombastic one and Mary focused that energy in constructive directions. She listened to my wild ravings and ideas, honestly heard me like no one had before. Together we fashioned a life neither of us had envisioned, one based on love and support for each other and our children. A life that stopped asking for approval from the “norm.” We started rejecting the conventional concepts we had absorbed and taken for granted, thereby deschooling ourselves. It’s a continuing process. It’s fundamental to my self-improvement journey, rejecting assumptions and reevaluating what is helpful in my life and what is hurtful.
The journey feeds the rebel within me as I feed my little rebels.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
p.s. – Twenty-six years on this still reads fresh:
“Bullet in the Head”
This time the bullet cold rocked ya
A yellow ribbon instead of a swastika
Nothin’ proper about ya propaganda
Fools follow rules when the set commands ya
Said it was blue
When ya blood was red
That’s how ya got a bullet blasted through ya head
Blasted through ya head
Blasted through ya head
I give a shout out to the living dead
Who stood and watched as the feds cold centralized
So serene on the screen
You were mesmerised
Cellular phones soundin’ a death tone
Corporations cold
Turn ya to stone before ya realise
They load the clip in omnicolour
Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time
Sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz
And mutha fuckas lost their minds
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Run it!
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Checka, checka, check it out
They load the clip in omnicolour
Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time
Sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz
And mutha fuckas lost their minds
No escape from the mass mind rape
Play it again jack and then rewind the tape
And then play it again and again and again
Until ya mind is locked in
Believin’ all the lies that they’re tellin’ ya
Buyin’ all the products that they’re sellin’ ya
They say jump and ya say how high
Ya brain-dead
Ya gotta fuckin’ bullet in ya head
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Uggh! Yeah! Yea!
Ya standin’ in line
Believin’ the lies
Ya bowin’ down to the flag
Ya gotta bullet in ya head
Ya standin’ in line
Believin’ the lies
Ya bowin’ down to the flag
Ya gotta bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
Ya gotta bullet in ya fuckin’ head!
Yeah!
Yeah!