My 8 and a half year old son, Joseph, made me this plastic necklace when he was in pre-school.

This story is paraphrased, but it's a true story— although I can't recall it word for word.

I've kept this necklace ever since. I'm a sentimental person. My eldest son, Norman, says that's another term for "hoarder." Nonetheless, I rarely throw things in the trash. I'm part of several upcycling and donation groups. And I make a weekly effort to seperate my trash, donate things to new homes, find the appropriate Earth friendly method of disposal, and even downcycle things myself personally (shredding papers, compsosting food, and more.) For things that I can't part with, they remain in my possession. I'm not a messy hoarder though. No no no. I'm a selective disposer.

Joseph noticed this necklace when I took it out of my jewelry box to clean it. He asked me where it came from, because he didn't remember he made it. And it looked so different than the other jewelry in my treasure chest. When I told him that he made it for me, he felt touched. "Really," he said, "You kept it all this time. Wow." And so I asked him if that was surprising. He said it was.

I asked him, "Do you know why I kept this necklace?" He said, "No, why?" I said, "Because you made it for me." He laughs a little bit and then says, "So?" I laughed a little too.

"Do you know what it is to create?" My question fell upon his puzzled face.

"Have a seat young sir," I said.

Joseph sat there as I began asking him lots of questions about the necklace.

"So I realize that you don't remember making this necklace. But where do you imagine you got the beads from?"

He answered, "If I made it in school, the classroom."

I asked further, "And where do you think the classroom got these beads?"

He answered again, "From the store."

I further probed, "And where do you think the store got them?"

He answered softly, "I don't know."

"Joseph, love, where do you think the clay came from to make the pendant on the necklace?"

He said, "Oh I know! Clay comes from the ground!"

"That's correct," I said. "And how do you think it got out of the ground and into your classroom?"

He answered solemnly, "I really don't know."

I smiled. Then I took the opportunity to share this with him:

"Everything that is made is made out of something else. Even ideas are made from other ideas. So these plastic beads are made out of rubber plants, chemicals, and colorings (trying to keep it simple for him) and the string is made out of cotton plants. The clay is made out of earth. And the paints are probably made from minerals of rocks. Many things had to be destroyed to make the componants of your necklace."

Joseph looked sad, as if I had dropped horrible news and responsability on his shoulders.

"So you're saying that Plants and Earth and things had to die for this?"

I said, "Yes."

He said, "I didn't know."

Then I went on to saying this, "It's not a bad thing, Joseph."

Confused, he looks at me and retorts, "I thought breaking things is bad."

I then asked, "Who taught you that?"

He then said, "Well, everyone gets mad when things break."

So I respond, "People do get mad when things break. That's usually because it's their things that they own, love, or are attached to, or they possess. Most people don't get mad when other people's stuff gets broken."

Even more confused, he asked me, "What makes something someone's stuff."

But I left that for another discussion.

What I went on to say is this, "If we look around nature, everything is constantly transforming. Things constantly change. Nothing stays the same forever. Look how you are growing. The baby you were is no longer here, but who you are remains. Look how the plants push their roots through the earth, eat from the soil, and grow. Think of how every river carves its way through its path. And how cats eat bugs sometimes."

Cleverly he replied, "Life is very violent."

"It is," I responded. "Things evolve." "Things decay." "Things transform."

Then he said, "Wait. What does this have to do with the necklace?"

I smiled.

"When you were making this necklace, you didn't know anything about it. The only thing on your mind was making me a gift. And I'm grateful. You thought of me the entire time you constructed it. Your only thought was making something to give to me. It not only represents the sentiment in your heart, but the time you put into this necklace you will never ever get back again. Your time is not renewable. It is infused into this work of your hands. Even more, you have used your will to move your hands in a way that could properly construct this just the way you liked. You used your mind to make this necklace arranged in a way that only you arranged from these pieces. And you sculpted the clay, and made a pendant for this. You waited for it to dry and you added it to your work. Not only this..."

And he looked at me with curiosity...

"But all the things that had to give themselves up for this to come to be, I respect. I respect the earth within it. I respect the plants and the people who have made the beads, and their efforts. Many many things, people, and you have made deep sacrifices to transform all this from what it was into what it is."

"Yeah," he said softly, shyly smiling.

"You are not bad. Nobody is bad. This is the work of will. And all life has a will. And all life works their good."

He made a face of understanding. (Although I'm not totally sure he really understood.)

---

Commentary:

I thought I would share this story here because there's a lot in it. Some would be repulsed that I pass on a sort of benevolent sense of Nihislm to my children- ferrel and untamed, relativistic, subjective in ethic. I believe, however, nature is right before our eyes. It is grande and beutiful. What is not to embrace? Should we defeat the "darkside?" Why is this bad? Who taught us the dark was evil and that destruction is always wrong?

I remember studying Jung psychology in college, and works about the Shadow-Self, and learning what is Shadow-Work. Reference here

This posits that as people, we selectively deny and subconsciously bury that which we judge within ourselves, or that which has been judged by society. We are formed to be acceptable to as many people as we can be, so that we are not a threat and so we are not attacked simply for being different. But in many ways we are all different, and in many ways we're not that different.

Further, we're not much different than other life forms. We selectively have empathy toward animals because they have eyes and have no empathy whatsoever when chomping down on raw salad. Why is this?

This is not to judge anyone for their beliefs. I just choose to believe — and teach — these facts.

If it were not for the defenses mechanisms in ourselves, the wars (cellular to macro-beings), the change, the destruction, the maintence, the creation: would anything be at all? No.

How much destruction would it take to destroy all destruction? Surely that would end all creation.

Were the ancient ones of old really so primitive and stupid, to understand and embrace the cycles of transformation? I see just the opposite. Wisdom. Truth. Respect.

---

This teaches mindfulness. To each their own values as well. If you don't want to eat animals, I understand. If you don't want to eat plants, I also understand. If you are super-recycler, I get it. If you're not, I also get it. We are each doing our good as we know it, and no one is necessarily more good or more evil than the next. Even sometimes when we are bitter, broken, greed-filled, selfish, it's all normal really. We all phase through our feelings. We all experience scarcity. Our economies differ. Our struggles differ. We all experience abundance in our own way. There is someone we each love. Even if it is only for a time. Maybe you need self-love right now. How can we possibly REALLY know what we're going through?

Further, we don't know what the earth goes through, or the rubber plant, or the lettuce, or even each other. Compassion has a point where it becomes a stain of self-righteous pity for others. Instead, I feel there is great benefit in realizing the truths— ugly as some may be, and coming to full terms therewith. Finding the full beauty in the nature we have manifest, the grande illusion, the physical warzone we call Earth and Life, for the power we all are— none greater or smaller.

You are a creator. And that is okay.