Dreams to Fire chapter 3

Knock-knock.

The expensive, overdone, wood-carved door swings its mass open. Beyond stands a woman dressed for business, showcasing various pieces of jewelry. Rob stands at his neighbor’s door, with his adorable red-haired daughter in his arms, Fyrona Caroline, his little Fy.

“Hey Sharol, I’m sorry to bother you, but Fy has told me that your daughter, Penny, has stolen one of Fy’s favorite dollies. I don’t want to cause a scene, but I think we should confront our children about this and find a resolut-”

“My daughter would never do that. Your Fy must be making up lies. My daughter will be going to the best schools money can buy. Maybe you should teach your home-schooled child some manners?”

He pauses for only a brief moment. “I see. Well Fy, it seems your friend got that exact same dolly at the same time you lost yours. That’s okay though.”

“No it’s not Daddy! And she’s not my friend. Not anymore. She got mad. Cuz I did what she couldn’t. She said she would steal it even!”

Sharol wears clothes more expensive than most people’s paychecks. Rob stares into her wealth-obsessed eyes and states, “Things you own, end up owning you.”

Little five year old Fy understands those words more than the thirty-three year old woman who has no idea what to say.

Fy’s father says, “Come on, let’s go and find something fun to do.”

“But… okay Daddy.”

They walk off, letting it go.

* * *

Bam!

The third ball strikes its target dead center.

“You are so good at that hon. And I know you’re not a cheater,” Erica says.

“Very funny.” He looks down at his daughter, “Which one do you want?”

Six year old Fy gazes out upon the colorful display of stuffed animals hanging from one end of the booth to the other. She points and says, “That one!”

“The alligator?”

“Yeah!”

The man behind the booth unhooks the giant green alligator off the wall, and leans over the counter to hand it to Fy, but she hesitates. She just stands there, frozen. Like she’s staring at a ghost—or something worse.

Little Fy finally grabs it.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Erica says.

She hugs the alligator, looking down at the ground. “Thanks.”

The family walk through the noisy fair, but none of it grabs her parent’s attention.

“Fyrona, why did you hesitate to grab the alligator just now? And we never have to ask you to say thank you,” Rob says.

She stops walking. And her parents stop with her.

She manages to say, “He was a bad man.”

Erica and Rob stare at each other. Erica says, “Is that so?”

“Look! Cotton candy. It looks so awesome. You said I could try some.”

“That it does. And that I did.”

* * *

Rob is at home reading in his favorite chair, relaxed. His seven year old daughter runs into him from outta nowhere, crying and all distraught, assaulting him with a needy hug.

“Fy? What is it, what’s wrong?”

“Cuddles, he’s not moving, I think, I think…” She continues with tears.

Rob investigates, and finds the family cat, Cuddles, of seventeen years of age, lifelessly resting upon his favorite spot on the living room couch. Despite how well he was taken care of, Nature has taken its course. The black cat with always-aware yellow eyes has died of natural causes, passing peacefully in his sleep.

Rob returns to find his daughter crying in his chair. He takes her hands in his, and gently says, “Do you remember when I talked to you about death? I’m so sorry, Cuddles has passed on.”

Poor little Fy just cries, and hugs her father.

The family go outside to their backyard, in a corner, and Rob does the deed. As he digs the grave, Erica hugs her daughter and they both let their tears flow without restraint. Erica adopted Cuddles when he was just a kitten. He was the one who managed to find a way out of the box, over and over again—a natural born freedom fighter. He was always a nice cat, the kind everyone could pet. He was playful and active even up to his last days. Rob throws the last pile of dirt on, and finishes the burial.

For the sake of his family he holds back his emotions, “You will be missed Cuddles. You were a beautiful and loveable cat. We will remember the good times we had with you, and honor your life with them. We are not so much saying goodbye here today. Instead, we are saying thank you. Thank you for all those wonderful times, and wonderful memories.” His voice manages a playful tone, “Don’t let the angels mess with you, I’m sure they got laser pens too.”

A soft chuckle interrupts their mourning, and the family all hug each other as they feel what they need to feel. Depression isn’t a problem in the Caroline family, for it is understood as part of life. Emotions are allowed to be felt, as they are needed to. They are not denied.

Fy asks the questions that all kids ask about death. Her parents give her answers parents don’t usually give.

* * *

Rob punches the board in two with a clear snap from a straight right punch. He could have broken a much thicker one. Eight year old Fy watches and knows she can do the same to her board. Even a much thicker one. They are both dressed up in white karate outfits in their backyard turned training gym.

Her father says, “Remember, when you punch, put everything you’ve got into it. Make it your punch. Not mine, nor anyone else’s. Let your punches, and any movements you make, have emotional content. But with no thought. Empty your mind, and abandon your fear. You don’t need them to punch. Hit from the heart, not the mind. Be fearless.”

Fy lets those words weave into her mind like an inscription upon the pages of her soul.

Be Fearless

Her shoulder length red hair is tied up in a pony tail. She concentrates, closes her eyes, and takes in a deep breath. “Be fearless.”

She opens her eyes and delivers a straight left punch that cracks the board in half. Her dad smiles and says, “Awesome. But one more thing. Boards, don’t hit back. A real opponent won’t stand by and let you hit them. But we’ll talk, and train, more on that later. For now, let’s break a few more.”

“Yeah!”

* * *

It’s summer time and two families are out having a picnic and barbecue on a beautiful sunny day. Erica, Rob, and Fy. And Rob’s old friend from boot camp, who’s now a cop, Bart Rhodes. With his recently married wife.

“I knew it, I just knew it. Freaking cheapo lighters, I should have bought a real one,” Bart says over clicking failures to start up the fire with his “easy-lite.”

Bart is Caucasian, American, with short black hair, and a signature trimmed goatee he never shaves away. He’s in decent shape but could lose a few pounds (he could lose a few of those maple bars every morning). All his friends say he actually looks like a stereotypical cop, born for the job. He’s usually a laid back kind of guy when he’s not at work, like today.

“You never could learn how not to be cheap could you Bart?” Rob says.

“Robby, be nice to him. He just got married,” Erica says.

“Oh yeah that’s right. Sorry about that.”

They all laugh, except for Bart’s wife who’s still in the car trying to find her shades.

“I’ll get it,” eight year old Fy says as she grabs the lighter from Bart. She touches it to the wood pile, clicks, and it suddenly appears to work. The wood roars up in flames, ready to create delicious food, fond memories, and endless smores.

Bart casts a sharpened look at Rob. A look that Rob knows all too well.

“Let’s start cooking!” Fy says with hungry enthusiasm.

Erica agrees. “Yes. Let’s.”

Everyone enjoys all the good food they could ever want. Bart pretends it didn’t happen.

* * *

Rob sits on a public bench with his nine year old daughter, at a busy Los Angeles intersection. Crowds upon crowds of people walk on by, oblivious to the fact they are being carefully watched and spied upon.

“There! That guy. See how he’s walking? He’s totally wearing his mind on his movements,” Rob says.

“Yeah, he looks like a know-it-all type. Pompous,” Fy says.

“That’s very good. I see the same thing. Pay attention to the distance the feet travel before being placed down. The swing of his arms. The speed of the walking. Slow? Fast? Almost running? A sense of being urgent or a sense of just ‘whatever’? Look at the head too. Is it facing to the ground, looking around, or staring straight ahead? All this and more can tell you volumes about someone before you even talk to them. People wear their inner worlds all over the outside one. You just have to know where to look. Get a feel from all these different sources we’ve talked about, but don’t conclude a thing. Just observe. You have to keep in mind someone may be injured, or having a bad day, or may be in the middle of some emotionally traumatic time in their life. Watch them, create a baseline body language of that particular person, and watch for sudden shifts or changes. You’re already learning so much.”

“Thanks Dad. Are we going to get a bite to eat next?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Because your belly has been facing that restaurant since we’ve been sitting here.”

“Naval intelligence!”

* * *

Erica and Rob finish their outside lunch with their daughter in a beautiful park on a sunny afternoon. But before they leave the picnic area, it’s time for a new lesson. A lesson not taught in the textbooks, yet found throughout all of life. Rob starts it.

“That, was delicious. But before we leave, we are going to start a new lesson today Fy. We’re going to talk about something you’ll always have to keep dealing with, as it will never permanently go away.”

“Hm, frogs?” Fy says.

Her parents chuckle, and Erica says, “No hon. Try again.”

“Hm… rude people?”

The family laugh together. Rob says, “No. Today we are going to talk about emotions. All the good ones, and all the ‘bad’ ones. You remember what you felt when Cuddles passed away, or what it was like to taste cotton candy for the first time, or what it was like when Penny stole your dolly long ago. You remember that?”

“I sure do. She still isn’t my friend.”

Rob thoughtfully chuckles. “The main thing is, never be afraid of your emotions Fy. Face them head on and fully experience them no matter how tough or painful they may be. It will make you stronger, and in the long run, happier.”

“So, what exactly am I going to learn?”

Erica continues, “It’s a process. A life long process. It’s not a matter of memorizing the ‘right’ things, and simply doing them over and over again. Right and wrong are dependent on situation, Natural Law, and Free Will. What is wrong is one situation, might be right in another. We’ll explain more as the lessons continue. But we want to introduce you to powerful mental tools, that will help you in your life, with whatever might happen,” Erica looks to her husband. “Hon?”

He nods. “The most important lesson is that each and every emotion has a dis-harmonizing expression, and a harmonizing expression. A ‘good version’ of the emotion, and a ‘bad version.’ No emotion is inherently good or bad all by itself. It all depends on the situation, the context, the story in which that emotion is being expressed and felt—and what direction it’s moving in. The big picture of the emotion. The question is: what changes will the emotion bring about? If the emotion is viewed as a cause, what are its effects? Emotions must be, if you will, steered. Rather than repressed.

“As an example, a very important example, there are two kinds of anger. There is the explosive, destructive, ego-driven anger that causes bad things to happen. This can be called the red flame of anger, to give it a visual symbol. This is the anger of ‘me-me-me’ mentality, that doesn’t care for others, that doesn’t hold any compassion. This anger is, if you will, baby-anger. It’s not grown up at all. This is, ‘I didn’t get my lolly pop, waaa!’” He gets a laugh from both Erica and Fy.

“However, on the other side of anger, there is the implosive, protective, heart-driven anger that causes good things to happen. To give it a symbol, this is the blue flame of anger. This is the anger that protects what is beautiful, and defends what is right. This anger empowers you to stand against anything wrong. Now we’re talking about grown-up anger. The blue flame of anger is interwoven with profound compassion, considerate intelligence, and a deep respect for life. All of life. It’s a righteous kind of anger. There’s nothing wrong with getting angry, its why you’re getting angry, and what you do with that anger, that matters.”

Fy can’t help but giggle. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry!”

Her parents laugh, and Rob continues, “Exactly. There are perfectly good reasons to get angry. Like protecting what you love.” He looks to his wife.

Erica says, “Emotions will come and go, showing up and passing on like the weather. Some days are all sunshine and beautiful, and you just want to go outside and play. Other days are rainy and dreary, and you just want to stay inside. Don’t be afraid of what you may feel hon. Sometimes, it’s wise to hold your emotions in. But not forever. Don’t bottle up your emotions, cast them away, and forget about them. They will be experienced, one way or another. The question is: what will happen as a result of experiencing those emotions? The question is one of directing, or channeling emotions. Not bottling them up and shunning them. When the time is right, simply let them wash over you, and change what they will change. The difficult emotions aren’t bad. Just like rainy days aren’t bad. They aren’t evil or anything. They just serve different purposes than the bright, happy emotions.”

“Different purposes? Like what?”

The winds picks up enough to be noticeable, swaying the singing leaves around them, as if a worldly angel were making a heavenly wish upon the candle of this earthly moment. “Like empowering you. Strengthening your resolve. Revealing a difficult truth. Helping you to heal. Revealing what is actually wrong, beyond what you want to believe. Emotional pain is an incredible teacher, but only if we are willing to listen. Tears don’t change a thing until they fall.”

More engravings of a young mind’s priceless knowledge are formed here, surrounded by life-giving trees and fueled by loving way-showers. Some lessons create benefits that last only until the test is over. Others last forever.

* * *

Fy sits in her room at her desk doing home-school work. Lately she’s been asking questions of a particular nature, and the time for “The Talk” has arrived. It can no longer be avoided. It’s time for her innocence to begin its end, in ways that will be as peaceful and respectful as possible.

Erica knocks on her door. “Fyrona? May I come in?”

“Yeah, what’s up?.”

“It’s time we talked.”

“About what Mom?”

“About you. About your body, the coming changes to it, love, relationships, what you’re going to be feeling soon, and exactly where babies come from. We need to talk about sex.”

“Sex?”

Erica puts it all out in the open for her daughter, not hiding a thing. She explains everything that Fy will have to deal with in the coming years. Of all the physical stuff, but more importantly of all the emotional and psychological stuff too. Fy is kinda embarrassed at first and feels pretty weird, but her mother is not embarrassed whatsoever. Erica is no doubt a sexually liberated woman, but she is also a sexually disciplined woman. She does not let sex bring drama, pain, or heartache into her life. Fy picks up on this stabilized and mature energy of her mother’s, which greatly helps her to feel more at ease with what she is, and what she will become. She understands there’s no reason to feel embarrassed about what is natural.

As time goes on, and Fy asks more questions, they have plenty more of “The Talks.” Fy’s mom becomes more and more a source of wisdom for her. Erica is unafraid to “go there,” accepts her daughter’s many questions, and carries an understanding like only a mother can. Any fear or uncomfortable feelings don’t last long for Fy.

Erica explains there are three different core purposes for sexuality. One: for procreation. Two: for simply enjoying the pleasures of life, which includes bringing more meaningful and loving connections between people. And finally, she explains that there is a third purpose for sexuality, but it’s one she will explain in the future. Fy isn’t quite ready for it yet.

* * *

Erica, Rob, and twelve year old Fy go to their second home for dinner. Erica’s parents, Patricia and George Caroline, have a peaceful and welcoming home that has always been a stable place filled with honesty and love. The kind of place people can be themselves, without having to edit beforehand every little thing they say and do. The precise thing Erica needed growing up.

Patricia has a loving and motherly presence, with a knowledgeable grandma aura about her. She’s always well dressed, casual and comfy. Her white gray hair betrays her youthful personality. George is always seen in his red suspenders and blue jeans. He has an uplifting and stabilizing presence. His balding head is the source of many jokes, plenty of them his own.

Fy’s grandparents do a get together once a week, for dinner and a movie. It’s a time when anyone can talk about anything they want, without fear of embarrassment. They are not Erica’s genetic parents, but they are her parents all the same. As Patricia says: “It don’t take a donor to be family.” Little Fy loves this home as much as her other one.

They’re all seated at the dinner table, hot food ready on numerous plates. They say their individual silent prayers, and start eating. “So Fy, I hear that you want to go to public school?” George asks.

“Yup. I want to see what it’s like, meet new people. I mean, I have a social life already but, I want to see what it’s like. I can’t wait to get in the first class. See all the crap they teach in school, and tell the kids what they really should be learning about!”

Everyone laughs, including Erica who almost spills the apple juice she’s drinking. She says, “Fy, I swear. We agreed you would not cause any problems. Don’t make me talk to those teachers. I don’t want to go to school.”

“Why not Mom? Everyone else has to go to school. What makes you so special?”

“Fyrona. That’s not funny.”

Patricia says, “I’m laughing.”

“Me too,” George says.

As is Rob, who says, “But in all seriousness Fy, many of the things we taught you, and will continue to teach you as time goes on, are not taught in the public schools.”

“Why not? Your lessons are fun, and useful. I love ’em.”

He casts a thoughtful look to his daughter, his mind wandering to places far beyond the dinner table. “That’s something we have yet to teach you. Let’s eat dinner and watch a movie. We’ll talk about that at another time.”

“Okay.”

Chapter 4