The Death of Peter Pan

       I remember that as a child I was fascinated with the image of the boy who struggled with his shadow and who led Wendy and her siblings into a new world where they would be young forever.

       They flew with the aid of fairy dust he kept in a purse, dust he received from a beautiful yellow fairy like a speck of light called Tinker Bell. Later on much more detailed viewing of various versions of Peter Pan revealed that he was not just a boy but a man who had been stuck as a boy for decades.

    As a man child he had fallen in love with Wendy while Tinker Bell was  so in love with him she was just giving him her wares and he was taking it. He was also into the art of kidnapping and stealing, but he made it look like free will. He had his motivations after all it was all in the name of fun and adventure and that he thought was what made everything right. But he was a much safer looking villain than the pirate with the hook and the sword, who was the master of snatching, his intentions seemed nothing more than devious after all with all that noise about plank walking and stuff; he was the one who came to kill Peter Pan and ended up being swallowed by a crocodile who had swallowed a clock. But I think the everlasting and final thought of the Peter Pan animation is that there is no fun in staying a child forever. Or that adulthood has a way of sneaking up on you.

    For years, the predominant thing I have heard from many people around me has been the idea of how childish I am. That being some quaint way of asking me, “When are you going to grow up?” I had always imagined that I would in fact grow up to be like Michael Jackson incredibly rich and always feeling young (of course without the pedophile cases). But he died from a back problem and although my change in lifestyle is not directly linked to the death of the superstar it does make for great literature. If the rich and famous can die then what then of the poor and mirroring? I do not want to die from a drug related death closely associated to a back problem.

      A couple years ago (over a decade now that I am now 30)I weighed less than 110 pounds and was a avid player of soccer and so active I couldn't sit still or keep a relationship going in the same direction for very long. Now I am almost 130 pounds and get tired as easily as I can think about being tired. But recently, I have noticed some changes.

      At thirty my body operates in a much different way than it did at 29 or 28, especially without the required changes in diet, spiritual and physical and exercise. Many things that were once a leap and bounce are now hazardous to my health and my pride. I have noticed as well a change in my emotional capabilities. The theater that I demanded as a young and brooding lover is now repulsive and I understand what facets I need from a partner. Being thirty is like having sinus and finding some relief.

    This did not come immediately as I have taken to meditation and have been considering yoga and some form of martial arts to combat my previously woeful state. The meditation ritual has led me down a path of pure bliss. I move slower (not because I am fat) but because it seems the world is a much prettier place. I don't get upset as easily and although my emotional body still reacts I am less likely to behave like a bull in a china shop. I cannot say that I am above a mess. But I like to clean it up as well.

So nowadays, I find that when people err I look at them for exactly what they are and I move on. For many, this makes me more selfish than I was; and I was labeled then as a self absorbed individual. But now I notice that there are many of people who want you to give to them what they want irrespective of the role you play in their lives. They want you for what they think you can give them not what you are actually giving. Makes me feel like singing a Buju song "Love me not for what you think I am nor what you want me to be could you love me for me. Real love with no strings attached".

     As a child, I yearned for the love and adoration of my friends and partner but now because of meditation I am less likely to jump through windows in search of my shadow and fall in love with a sleeping beauty and drag her off to a world I have created for myself, a world I have shared with my own speck of light who has given me her fairy dust to fly around with. For me it’s either one or the other. It seems my Peter Pan is dead. I am no longer interested in fighting the same battle with people over and over again nor do I want to have a reminder of the battle in my space. And so is my need to kill Captain Hook.

     I often wonder what happened to Peter Pan in the end. Is he still out there flying around with Tinker? Or did he make it back to Wendy years later? Who knows though, maybe he started meditating and grew up, or maybe he met Alice out there in Wonderland.

   
       Now I end this note with my meditation mantra for my dreams to come true: I would like an abundance of wealth and feeling of youth, happiness in all its forms, health, one partner, a family and real friends, ability and the opportunities to travel and see the world, a cottage in the hills and by the sea and a house in town and car that can handle the trek to and from the hills, a rewarding writing and business career, simplicity in my space and complication in my art, evidence that I stand for something, fear and adoration of the ALL.