Sunday, November 8, 2009

The Altar of Adulthood

After a pretty intense nightmare and the movie Hound-dog...I got to thinking.
It's a long way from thought out and is not a completely new vein for me, but...
Who and what are the Sirens of Adulthood. What did we leave at the altar of childhood?
What are the costs of coming into your own body in a society that tends to always view anything sensual as sexual advance. Were personal desire is transfered to the object of the desire even before the object has become aware of an another.
What did you give up too easily to the siren call of adulthood?


wilson said...

The cliché letter from Paul to Corinth is what comes, immediately, to mi mente. What does putting away childishness mean? What is the difference between childish and child like? … light hearted and light minded? There is too much ambiguity in the idea to make any absolute assertation, at all. I truly believe that there is an inherent error in any culture that presumes adults are, innately, any different than children. Add insult to injury by implying that adults are better, in any way shape or form. Let whatever God may be help me, should I ever deliberately leave anything at that altar. Is it too hard for people to suppose that in the universe adults and children exist on the same plane? I venture to submit that an infinite number of adults leave their desire to learn and create (which are synonymous), unsuspectingly, as an offering at the shrine of the quasi noble designation of “grown-up.” I know that’s a tangent and perhaps I’m too arrogant and not introspective enough to realize what I’ve sacrificed, but I suggest that our egos have the resolve to recover whatever it is we stand to lose. And that makes me happy.


Chrissie said...

I used to tell the teens I was working with that adulthood was highly overrated. Usually this was after they told me to act my age. When I suddenly have to come up with an age I am, I usually have 19 pop into my mind, momentarily of course. My body is much older than my mind.