by tashmcgill | Dec 8, 2014 | Culture & Ideas, Family, Youth Work
As a youthworker, I’m in a position to see a pattern emerging over the last 15 years. It’s more prevalent now than it was when I started working with young people and their families and by my observation, it’s a bit of a Trojan horse. It’s the desire to be ‘cool’ in the eyes of their kids, the need to be cool in every part of a child’s life. It looks and sounds great, but can be the cause of more heartache and trouble than you intend.
Advice For Right Now.
If your child is under the age of 21, don’t try and be their friend. Not yet. You have a job to do and they need you to do it. The study of adolescence would tell us that our young people are potentially still developing physically, emotionally and intellectually until they are 25 years of age. During that time of emerging identity, self-awareness and critical formation in the areas of sexuality, spirituality, vocation and passions – your children need you to take the role that can only be filled by one or two. The role of parent.
Friends vs Parents/Trusted Adults
Over their lifetimes, your kids are going to make a lot of friends. They’ll lose some, keep some for life. Probably make poor choices about a couple and they’ll make some of their best memories with friends. Friends are, the family you choose. But it’s precisely because you choose your friends (and the older you get the more time you spend choosing, or the more choosy you get), that a distinction applies. In choosing your friends, you’re never obligated to choose the ones that rub up against your rough edges but make you a better human on the way.
Friendship is often equally paired and transactional, there’s a mutual exchange of esteem and confidence boosting. Take away the esteem boosting and the value of the friendship fades. For starters, a parent’s relationship with a child should never be transactional. “You give me this, I’ll give you that.” It’s the core of dysfunction between a parent and child. Starting down this path is the opposite of building mutual respect.
Friends give bad advice from time to time.
Ultimately friends have less investment and often less meaningful context. During periods of potential instability, if you can build a foundation of reliable, secure advice with your young person – whether they take your advice or even like, won’t be able to refute the quality of the advice they are receiving. The offering of wisdom and the application of it are two very different things.
Few friendships ever fall of the sword of the greater good. In other words, your children need to have a steady and reliable person/s that will look out for their greater good during hardship and upheaval.
Friends don’t necessarily have the same values at a time when values are an important part of identity exploration. Having people in the life of a young person who can safely give permission to explore different applications of values and challenges to the status quo is vital, but those people are often not peers. Peers have equally limited experience and little alternative insight to offer into the process. Having people with similar values to process and discuss alternate possibilities with is strengthening.
Friends don’t always sharpen iron these days. In adolescent friendship, commonality is often the lynchpin of otherwise fragile emotional connections. Thus, iron sharpening iron isn’t a practice commonly found until early adulthood or when identity is more fully formed.
So what’s the role of a parent anyway?
I was visiting with a friend the other day and watched her young tween daughter lash her with drippings of adolescent behaviour – pushing boundaries to see how far she could go, sassing up the room with a mix of childlike comedy (quite enchanting) and whiny brat (less so). I watched my darling friend take a beating from her kid. It’s not intentional, but it’s nearly impossible to avoid the trap of our children influencing our self-esteem, but it’s ten-fold if we let ourselves get into the role of friend rather than parent. It’s natural to want to be liked by your kids, but it’s healthier to accept that how much they like you isn’t a good measure of how well you are parenting.
Children and especially adolescents desperately need parents who can provide companionship and wisdom along the journey, but in the unique and gifted role of Trusted Advisor.
Too often, parents want to avoid the stereotypical roles of Taskmaster, Bossy Bitch, Nagger, RuleMaker. Fair enough, they are not easy titles. But if you can push through the pain and pride-pinching accusations, there are alternate ways of looking at those roles.
Imagine being the parent who’s child never had a reason to doubt or question their advice. Who had been invited into the learning process alongside their parents? Who had positive frameworks for discussing conflict, disagreement and the establishment of their own, individual values. Most of the time, it’s not until much later stages of life that peer adults are capable of forming such competent bonds; yet these bonds and interactions are key for the development of healthy, well-adjusted and well-rounded young adults.
That’s why it’s so critical that parents accept the challenge of Not-Yet-Friends with their children and adolescents.
Friendship with your children is the privilege and honour bestowed on those who survive well, the teenage onslaught and adventure ride. It sounds crazy, but it’s true. As with a number of things, decisions that were yours as a parent of a toddler, become the decisions of the young adult themselves. Friendship with you and the nature of it will largely be their choice by the time they hit their mid-20s.
Like it or not, the level of friendship and trust they establish with you in that phase of life will be proportionately based on what they learned from the most recent phase of life and interaction with you.
Pursue parenting then, because it’s in parenting that you become a trusted advisor. It’s in your investment and commitment to them, you can demonstrate wisdom, perseverance, forgiveness and grace. It’s in your interactions and conversations that transcend a mere exchange of esteem building moments that you invest in the concrete foundation of the Parent-Child-Friends relationship.
As youthworkers, encourage parents to parent and not to try to be friends with their young people ahead of time. There’s a season and you shouldn’t rush it.
There are a few myths that need to be put to bed.
‘If I’m cool and can handle anything, then my child will tell me everything and I can be a better parent.’ Nope. You will never be cool enough that your child will tell you everything and why is your esteem wrapped up in it. It’s only building trust and a communicative culture with your child that opens the doors to communication.
‘It’s better to let some things slide and not say what I think, than to lose relationship with my kid.’ Strictly playing devil’s advocate here, but how will demonstrating holding back true honest feedback in your relationship with your teenager possibly help them learn how to be honest and true to themselves? If you want to teach your kids to deal with conflict well, you might as well start with the conflict you have with them.
‘I don’t really like the influence of that friend, but it’s not really my place to say.’ See above. There are limited opportunities to teach and demonstrate how hard but how important it is to offer truthful and graceful feedback to the ones we love. Talk honestly.
‘If I do what my parents did, I’ll turn out just like them and my child will have the scars I have.’No parents are perfect. It doesn’t matter if your kids are angels, scalliwags, 12 months old or 17 year old pop stars. There are no perfect kids, there are no perfect parents. Each child will carry both good and bad experiences from childhood, but learning constructive and positive communication will ensure that both build strength, resilience and character. Your children are not on a repeat cycle, unless you don’t engage in the process. They’re not perfect, neither are you, no one is. Therefore, there is freedom and grace to make mistakes.
In closing, my conversation with my friend was to encourage her to stand her ground. Friends don’t always speak in the nicest manner to each other, especially not when they are entering the teenaged years. I reminded her, implored her to take the higher ground and remember that she is the parent, she does have more experience, more wisdom and more intelligence than her tween daughter. That may not always be the case, but for right now, it is absolutely true. Therefore, there are many things in the day to day that require reframing. The simple recollection that there is a window where adults and children are not all equal. Equal rights, yes, equal concern yes. But equal footing – not.
Parents, enjoy the privilege you have to parent and don’t forgo it too quickly for the sake of friendship. It might sound and feel cooler momentarily, but it cannot deliver the same rewards as being the most trusted and faithful advisor of a young person.
by tashmcgill | Nov 20, 2014 | Culture & Ideas, Health, Mind, Relationships
I’m sitting in a kitchen in Tennessee, looking out the window. I have arrived too late to see the turning of the leaves but as the cold November wind blows through the trees in the yard, I see them fall, fluttering yellow gold and bronze.
I’m reminded of a song, an old jazz standard, ‘Autumn Leaves’. It was a favourite of mine for a long time. I hum it now gently to myself and remember listening to Nat King Cole with a glass of red wine in front of the fireplace. I’m smiling now, into my coffee cup. It’s a romantic kind of feeling, being in a place you love with people you love and who love on you. I’m already anticipating the coming knock at the door. A treasured one is travelling from Atlanta to get here and my pulse races knowing the next few days will be full of love and laughter. We’ll be good to each other, these loved ones and I.
I am romancing myself. Lingering, filling up my senses with moments that are good for my soul. Romance is good for us, it gives you stories worth telling. This is really the heart of my annual Thanksgiving sabbatical, a chance to immerse myself in the feeling of being alive.
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by tashmcgill | Nov 19, 2014 | Culture & Ideas, Relationships
I am boarding a short flight from Las Vegas to Los Angeles. Soon, I’ll take an overnight flight they call the red-eye to my final destination. I’m drowsy and looking forward to a few hours of peace in my own mind during this stretch of travel.
The young Australian couple seating themselves behind me have other ideas. His nasal twang is behind my right ear within minutes of beginning to taxi. I can see him twisting in his seat, moving his shoulder away from his partner but pushing his face into hers. He spat out the words.
‘Get off me! We’re going to be next to each other for 15 bloody hours, the least you can do is give me this one flight without cuddling me to death.’
My mood breaks with a crack. My head hits the back of the seat and I can’t help but tilt my ear towards the rest of the conversation. Human observation is my skill and trade, inescapable even in a steel tube hurtling down a runway.
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by tashmcgill | Nov 18, 2014 | Culture & Ideas, Travel
You can learn a few things in Las Vegas. More than blackjack or how to play the house advantage. You can learn a lot about being tough, surviving and rebirthing yourself. After all, Las Vegas is a city in the desert, without a water source close-by. Lake Mead is some 45min away. None of the greenery here looks real, its irrigated golf courses and landscaped gardens a far cry from the stark desert ash everywhere else you look.
Amidst the lights and neon signs, the truth of Vegas is a testament to the best and worst of human experience. Here, each rebirth of Las Vegas can be seen etched into the landscape of architecture, signage, history museums and photographs. While new hotels and resort complexes rise up on the dust and ashes of previous monuments, others sit abandoned on the Strip, rusting slowly in the parching desert sun.
This is human. We live out of our history and everything we are becoming is from the context of who we’ve been. My mistakes and my triumphs exist side by side, the evidence of both scattered through stories, opportunities and lessons learned along the way.
The best of us learn how to drill down and find water in the desert. We learn to build our future stories out of and beside the rubble of our histories. We let our darkness live as shadow of the lights.
Sometimes we refurbish. We take the old structures and ways of being, strip them out to bare bones and begin again. New furniture and fixtures make a difference. We can change our habits through careful new architecture and design. Human beings are like houses – we build and design our lives carefully and those that dwell in them should be carefully thought through.
Sometimes we leave the rusting, decaying pieces just within view. Sometimes they are the challenge yet to come, a restoration so complex or unprecendented that we haven’t figured out just how to approach it yet.
Either way; this is a testament to human survival. When we triumph and when we fail – we go on. We begin again, we build more, we stretch more. If we fail but do not persevere, if we do not find another incarnation of ourselves, we do not survive.
Vegas knows this. Her rugged history of men and women escaping taxes and the law is written in the dust of this desert. No matter how many shows, new hotels and great restuarants pop up here – this is a place with a slightly dark underbelly, where people are often looking to lose themselves for a night or a weekend.
But that’s not all that Vegas wants to be – and why wouldn’t she want more? We, as people, are rarely satisfied with the status quo for long. So now, she reinvents herself as a city for the arts, a city for performers, for families, for luxurious and clean escapes.
In this city, rebirth and survival is found through reinvention. But it’s never reinvention from scratch. It’s actually evolution. Core ideas reshaped into new expressions. Take the circus. Once upon a time, circus trains travelled the deserts of the mid-West, slowly fading one by one from railway tracks and then from caravans until people began to say – the travelling circus is dead.
Not here in Vegas. Here, for more than 30 years, Cirque de Soleil has rebirthed traditional circus into a haven for the performing arts community. Gymnasts, dancers, contortionists, divers, fire-breathers – all have found a home in the new Circus that people travel all over the world too. That’s what Las Vegas has become for many – the home of Cirque.
Evolution through history. Future, present and past standing next to one another in a single view. Rebirth and survival.
Perhaps it’s best expressed like this: once, I knew how to live until it no longer made sense. The world around me changed enough I knew I must change too, in order to survive. So I reshaped how I lived in this new world, and found myself building new habits and ways of being. I am still present, still full of what has been but I am newer too. I am a survivor.
by tashmcgill | Nov 15, 2014 | Culture & Ideas
I’m sitting in the airport lounge, listening to a flurry of Mandarin to the left of me and a Southern drawl to the right of me. Their human commonality is they are all loud talkers. I’m a loud talker too, but I love little more than silence and quiet.
It’s one of many contradictions, that I love to make noise as much as I long for the quiet. I know a couple of people who are quiet talkers. It makes me lean in, not only to listen to what they say, but to pay closer attention to them. I like the difference between someone who makes you lean in versus one who makes you lean back.
I’m sitting in the airport lounge, drinking a long black espresso and beside it, a whisky and soda. One is deep, rich and will awaken my senses. The other is light, smoky and crisp but will eventually soothe me into easy sleep. I like to drink them at the same time just to experience the spectrum.
I celebrated my birthday with friends a week ago, because I love to throw parties. A dear friend said to the crowd, ‘Tash manages to be spiritual without being weird.’ Another contradiction.
I’m leaving for the other side of the world to see people I love in places I long for. I’m excited and nervous, hoping it will be all I’m wishing for – connection, richness of experience, deepness of love shared between kindred spirits. I’m hoping that each relationship I cherish will grow richer and stronger and more through the chance to be present with one another.
But I, as always, grieve quietly the absence from others that is required to make those connections possible. I’m full of joy and full of sorrow, albeit momentarily, because I cannot bear to be apart but I cannot bear to stay.
I, like always, am intoxicated a little by the mystery of travelling alone. Wondering who will cross your path, knowing the complete freedom to be and see and do whatever takes my fancy along the way. I am, increasingly, tired of travelling by myself. I find I no longer want to see new places without sharing the experience with another pair of eyes, another set of senses. I like to be alone; I am desperate not to be alone.
And here is the deepest contradiction of them all. I am strong. I have an emotional backbone made of steel. It might be best to say I am grounded; at peace with the vast array of emotion that strikes to the core of the human experience. I can grieve and laugh in the same day, I can (sometimes) stand calm in the face of chaos, I can navigate through the storm.
But oh, how I am soft. Tender and gentle, longing for peace. I have become strong in the face of the storm only because I have faced it for one hundred days. I can bear the stern light of the sun because I have lived in the desert. I can withstand what presses in from the outside because I have been born with steel inside me.
I am soft and I long to yield. I want not to withstand. I want to be comforted, I want to crumple. On the inside, my soft and gentle heart holds to the steel of my skeleton. My vulnerability has slowly been creeping out, slowly losing it’s hold on steel. I like it, I like that it means I need others in that state.
I am a woman of contradiction. Not complicated, just faceted. Never just one, I am one and other.
I am not strong. I’m vulnerable. More than I realise most of the time. I need others to hold me up and take of me more often than I know.
by tashmcgill | Nov 7, 2014 | Culture & Ideas, Leadership, Strategy
“A leader is a dealer in hope.” Napoleon Bonaparte.
By all accounts, Bonaparte was such a contradictory character that it is hard to imagine he inspired much hope or empathy with those he led. Yet, he led hundreds of thousands with a vison of triumph. His words are still true today. Whether you promise or deliver a vision of an alternative future (which eventually you must, or perish as Bonaparte’s men did); you are dealing in hope.
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