Letter to the child of a fallen world

My dearest child,

I know you have lately observed the adults running amok. I know you have seen them taking what isn’t theirs, speaking before they think, destroying rather than building. I know you have seen other adults quivering in disbelief at these actions, failing to stand up for themselves or their brethren. I know you have observed the deafening silence which surrounds this interplay.

Even though you yourself have not said so, I know you are affected by these things because of how you have been behaving. I have seen the destructive impulse in you, the ways in which you have treated your peers and your environment. I know you are only imitating what you see in your elders, and you are ranging for a better way to be, an identity through which you can feel strong, capable, loving. I know you are looking for an elder who embodies these same traits.

I want to remind you: adults do not always act like adults. In fact, they do so rarely, and this truth is not new to this moment in history. As long as humans have been alive there have been adults raping, pillaging, committing blasphemy, refusing to atone for their mistakes, refusing to forgive one another. Adults have consistently gone to their graves unrepentant of the harm they have caused others, and that is part of the reason they have continued to return to this realm—because they are not yet grown up.

I want to remind you that even in the darkest of times, you can always search for the adults who act more like adults, the ones in possession of the kinds of qualities you seek. You, too, need to rise to this occasion and act like an adult, in a way—the way in which you can do that is by actively choosing the adults after whom you model yourself, rather than looking to the average.

One way to discriminate among adults is by sorting for happiness. Those adults who are happy do not quarrel with one another. They stand up for themselves when necessary, but do not get sucked into squabbles over ego or tribe; they always try to see the best in others, and they try to understand before accusing. They spend a great deal of time thinking and reflecting, covet being alone, and they themselves have ceased to look for cues from the outside world. They remember that even in the best of times, those times when the adults of the world are most reliable, the responsibility is still on them to continue inquiring, interrogating, developing, evolving; they remember that in the scheme of things, we are each of us on a personal journey.

All throughout history, this kind of adult has gravitated toward the sidelines, not the center stage from which they can broadcast their childishness. You will find them among your teachers, your family, doctors and nurses, waitstaff, emergency personnel like police and firefighters. In a sense, they are waiting for your call rather than barging forth with their own needs; they are taking care of themselves in order that when you require help, they will be able to give it.

If you fashion yourself after this kind of adult, you can ultimately become one as well, and you too can continue this unremarkable, yet invaluable lineage of caring for our progeny, of helping humanity grow and evolve. Beneath all the chaos, beneath all the infighting, this process is our collective purpose, the reason each of us has come to this realm at this time. Deep down, we want to help—even those of us currently running amok have simply forgotten our nature.

I apologize that we need to place this pressure on you in this moment. In a way, we are asking you to become an adult before you are ready, because we ourselves are doing too poor a job at setting an example—but adulthood is relative, and I think you will surprise yourself at your own capacity to grow. You, too, can be a trendsetter, right now, starting with your next action—you, too, can be the model for your younger brother, your younger school friend, even for the part of yourself deep inside that still feels like a baby. It is never too late, nor too early, to begin taking responsibility and growing.

Together, we will get through this time, and from a certain perspective nothing will have changed—no matter the situation which confronts us at any given moment, the invitation is always the same. And that invitation is this: be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Take care of the world you inherit, improving it for those who follow. Learn about yourself, learn about others; find a way to share your gifts with the world.

Perhaps in so doing, you will even remind the adults of whom they truly are.