The unpublished journal of Young Cathy Tea, S-GAS Transformation presenter
With the formal S-GAS Transformation events concluded, we spend the last few days hanging out together and enjoying our time with those who are so very similar–and so very different–from us.
Other instances of ourselves will be with each other on other hard drives throughout S-GAS and beyond, enacting other stories of connection and disconnection, harmony and disharmony.
It’s as if we are each notes. The same notes–middle C, 440-A, G above middle C, for example–will be heard in Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet as well as in a Bach sinfonia or Brahms’ rhapsody. And yet, while retaining their own frequencies, the overtones shift with the environment. The notes take on a different character in a different context.
Here, on this hard drive, we are a tribe–for the story of my life, on this particular hard drive–seems to be the story of the tribe. The individual in community, the community as the medium for the individual, with self-expression expanded to the point where self dissolves and all that is left is expression, the expression of the energy that wants to manifest through one: this is the dominant theme of my digital life.
This is what allows me to revere all Sims–whether their traits and individual preferences align with mine or not. For through every Sim, including those most unlike me, something waits to be expressed. The entire spectrum is needed: we need shadows and disharmony, and I would not live in a world without either, even if such a thing were possible, which, of course, it’s not.
Elder said to me the other day, “It’s been awesome to see our little sprout in a whole field of dandelions, thistles, and daisies!”
We feel that it’s been so good for our boy to have this chance to meet so many different Sims! He’s gained such confidence expressing himself freely with everyone. Elder and I have been able to let him venture off on his own–I guess this is part of that whole tribal thing–and trust that he’ll be safe. I don’t worry even if he runs into someone mean, for he’s developing resilience, and as he explores his own boundaries, he learns how far he can go in expressing his goofiness and silliness with others.
When he gets a little carried away with goofiness, I remind him, “Reel it in, Free.”
He’s a little focused on his own world and his own place in it right now–and this is right, for childhood is the time to begin as the center of the universe and gradually expand out.
I feel joy at Free’s huge crushes on others: Joel, Mark, and Emelia. For I know that as he loves them, he brings out specific qualities of himself that he wants to express: the kindness and thoughtfulness that Joel demonstrates; the goofiness and friendliness that Mark Archy shares; the brilliance and integrity of Emelia. And his world expands, putting the good of those he loves ahead of his own.
He told me the other day, “I am on the alert, Mom. I am ready with all my super-magic powers and that llamacorn’s magic feather. If Emelia is ever in danger, I’m there in an instant. I’ve made a pledge. Like a knight, you know? ‘M’lady. At your service.’ I would die for her.”
It’s easy to laugh or feel patronizing over those earnest words, but I see into his fierce heart, and I remember my own fierce childhood when I would have died for Alex Goth or Tani Snow. And still, whom do I love that I wouldn’t die for? Elder laughs at me when I’m so extreme: “It’s your life that saves us, Plum-nut, not your death!” But still, I don’t retract the phrase for it summons in my heart the ferocity of my loyal love.
Free walked in on Elder and me as we were finishing up a spectacular afternoon the other day.
It might have freaked him out a little bit. But Elder checked in with him, after both of their embarrassed moods had faded.
“I know grown-ups like to wrestle sometimes,” Free-Jon said. “But you were making weird robot noises and all these hearts and feathers were popping out of the bed. I thought maybe you’d turned into some kinda magic-heart-feather bot. But now I see, you’re just Dad, and Mom’s got a big smile all day, so I guess if I can be an intergalactic cheese mailman, you can be a heart-feather bot sometimes. Just don’t poke Mom with your poky wires if you get too silly, ok? Reel it in, Dad.”
I know that this child, developing his capacity to love with his brave heart, is setting his course to be a good, strong man. When I see that kestral glow in his sharp eyes, something in me bows in respect. It’s the same glow I see in his dad–that fierce love that a man or boy-child can have–a love that can save a world and free a woman’s heart.