I begin three months of paternity leave today, the day variously celebrated as the beginning of summer, the end of spring, May Day, Beltane. I now look back, astounded, on four months of life with my daughter, this tiny teacher who has changed me beyond measure. Impossible to imagine life without her now. And more possible than it has been for years to remember what it was to be in her place: tiny, defenseless, with the enormous power of innocence, full of wonder and fear and pain and love and pure living potential. Sometimes I even feel like I am holding myself when I hold her.
May Day: We celebrate labor by not working, we celebrate workers and thank those who organized and fought and bled to make work humane. I can think of no working practice more humane than taking time off “productive” work in order to care for an infant. I bow in gratitude to those who have made it possible for me to take three months to dedicate myself exclusively to being a father, to nurturing my daughter. I bow in humility for all the mothers in the world, who routinely sacrifice so much to raise their children. I bow in astonishment at the fathers who manage to work without pause (with good reason and without) in the pursuit of creating safety and security for their families. I marvel at my privilege and grieve at how extremely and tragically rare this is for fathers throughout history. What effect will this have on our daughter, to grow with this deep and focused nourishing? What effect will paternity leave becoming more common (may it continue to be so!) have on the generation being born into the world now? How will this change men of this generation, as we learn to caretake in ways that have always been expected of women?
Beltane: the old Celtic traditional celebration of spring turning to summer, revived in the traditions of neopagan America. A season of my life has ended, and a new one begun. Bonfires bless the animals, people leap over flames. Hearths are rekindled from these fires born from pure flint and friction. And so now I am rekindling my dedication to life, I am remade from this new spark which already has consumed my past self. Flowers adorn people, cattle, trees: everyone is in bloom, all is fertile. Maypoles sprout up, girls dancing ribbons around them, celebrating fertility and the union and balance of the male and female. As a father, I feel the responsibility to act with balanced male energy, to teach my daughter mature masculinity, so that she might recognize and embody that energy. And as always, I must balance the male and female energies in myself and in the world—yin and yang, chachawarmi. In achieving balance, however imperfectly, I open the door for my daughter to strive for the same in herself.
