“Good enough” fathering?

My father 1943 Italy

My father died 35 years ago today. I reflect that when he was alive I found him overwhelming and I gravitated to my mother. Yet, he was there – a balance and it turns out a vital part of developing. Even if only as a scratching post.

Donald Winnicott has a concept of “good enough” mothering. Essentially that a newborn needs love and encouragement, which he termed “maternal reverie”. He made the point that mothers do not have to be perfect, just good enough. Does this same apply to fathers? Indeed, how many now grow up in single-parent houses with no experience of one. How many of us experience a kind of “father hunger” in our life, and what does it mean to be “good enough” as a father?

I simply don’t have answers, but it is worth meditating upon. A little late for my children who are in their 30’s, but perhaps an acknowledgement of failures would help them?

I would be so interested in others’ views, and indeed I am going to make it a point to ask all the people I meet. In the meantime, at least as a start point I think there is a lot of wisdom in James Hollis’ book “Under Saturn’s Shadow”. He speaks of the burden placed by the patriarchy on men. This excerpt anyway speaks to me. It seems to me that work on the “deficit” that he refers to will never end..

All imagos are two-sided. If an image has a depth dimension it must express the dual character of reality. Acknowledging and maintaining the tension of opposites is a fundamental Jungian tenet. One-sidedness begets distortion, perversion, neurosis. Thus, for example, the archetype of the mother expresses the dual aspect of nature, that which giveth and that which taketh away. The Great Mother represents a life force that both begets and destroys, gestates and annihilates. As Dylan Thomas so succinctly put it, “The force that through the green fuse drives the flower… is my destroyer”.

So , too, the archetype of the father is dual. Father gives life, light, energy – no wonder he has historically been associated with the sun. But father can also blast, wither, crush. The preliterate mind, playing with the image of the sun as centre of energy, the vitalising principle, evolved God the Father who energises and fecundates the feminine earth. Patriarchy replaced the worship of Earth Mother with that of Sky Father. (The halo associated with Christ is a relic of the solar aura of the Father even as the serpent associated with the maternal deities is spurned by the emergent patriarchy in Genesis.). When the experience of the father is positive, the child experiences strength, support, the energising of his own resources and modelling in the outer world. When the experience of the father is negative, the fragile psyche is crushed. 

To use a modern metaphor, the child’s psyche is a set of potentialities, a data base to be shaped by the affirmation and modelling of the parents. Through his mother he may experience the world as a nurturing and protective environment. From father he may receive the empowerment to enter the world and to fight for his life.  Of course mother can help empower him and father nurture him, but archetypally they play specific roles. Mother also actives the mother complex, which must be transformed and transcended lest he remain childlike and dependent. He must leave the world of the mother and enter that of the fathers. All mythology is a playing out of some variant of two great mythologems. The mythology  of the Great Mother is the great circle, the death-rebirth motif, the Eternal Return. The mythology of the Sky Father is the quest, the journey from innocence to experience, from dark to light, from home to horizon. Each mythic cycle must be served. 

When the parental imagos in the child are inadequately modelled by the parents, he carries the deficit throughout his life…

I was afraid

I was afraid of dying last night. Terrified. Full blown existential angst. It took me back to my childhood. I lay there trying to fathom why that fear was back again – my old enemy.

I realised that it is my “I” that is afraid. My ego; the confection that has spun up in this particular life of mine.  I have throughout my life woken suddenly in the night with a sense that my heart has stopped – as it misses a beat – and with the immediacy of dying. Whilst it was frightening as a child and into my early adulthood, it disappeared as my faith grew that there is more beyond this life. (A faith built out of intense questioning). Indeed what lies beyond this virtual reality is all, everything. Not the nothing of our ego’s fear.

I am lucky because I have experienced good deaths. My mother had almost died and described her experience of moving toward light and love but being summoned back to this life – and her reluctance to return. This is of course common; but it’s difficult to be a doubting Thomas when your mother – a true glorious person – gifts you her personal experience. My father died after an operation and I experienced for the hours after his death his transcendental joy before disappearing. Literally he was bursting with excitement and joy before he finally left me. It was intense and real. Since then some part of the thought of death has been exciting – a way through the fundamental loneliness of life.

Lucky. Because I have known other deaths where there was fear, confusion and loss. Intensely painful rather than joyful, and I have seen how those deaths affect those left behind.

So, to last night..

I believe that our ego only exists in this particular life, like some kind of computer memory that fades when the machine is switched off. Of course my ego is terrified of death. “I” am not, however, my ego. I am part of all and will return to the everything beyond. In what way, is not for me to see here now,  because our senses can only see “through a glass darkly”. I do know that in order to move beyond my fear, my work is to move beyond my ego, and back to the living and loving connection that continues and is what I anyway call God. I only use that word tentatively because it puts some people off – because many “religions” hijack this personification of all-that-is for their own purpose. Political manipulation.

A rose, however, is a rose by whatever name.

In any event, I offer my thoughts not to convert – but as a witness to hope.

 

Being present, in Yorkshire

My daughter gave me a book. “The Power of Now”. Motivation? Uncertain, but does it matter. It’s another jolt forward into a different understanding of the world. Real and vibrant life is in the present. Here, Now.

It reminds me strongly however of a philosophy of my deeply ingrained Yorkshire father. He would say “Open tha’ e’en lad” – as an exhortation to live fully. (Open your eyes, lad).

Don’t these add up to the same philosophy? Open your eyes, live – live now. Live vibrantly and in the present. The past and the future are a chimera and distraction.

A wise daughter and a wise father. Surrounded!