Modern society is a hoax. The pampered experience that most all of us have experienced for the last few generations is a historical lull. Human history has been one long death march of collectives robbing lives from the weak. I believe that, especially since the USSR came down, America and Americans have no point/counter point comparison as to why we should exist and will more readily now give up what has created this pocket of prosperity in time.
What now? Whether it happens in 10, 20 or 100 years, some sort of collapse is coming, be it financial, socio-political, I know not. Teaching and hoping that our children will enjoy the lives we have, preparing them to live in this world is a good idea. We don't want a bunch of pre-emptive wierdos running around. Hoping that your hope or what you know will somehow save your kids is fool-hardy and a grand example of a pernicious selfless action. Only a man's own knowledge and experience will save him. Clinging to someone better prepared without learning usually just prolongs the inevitable.
So how do we prepare our children? For my part, I started in their infancy. Really. While never endangering them, I challanged the notions of how one treats an infant by using faster movements, stronger motions, and more rigorous treatment. My kids learned to move more efficiently quicker. My wife and I made the agreement to never console them when their injuries were not serious. Usually, a "boo-boo" exuded the response, "That's awesome!" or, "Bite him back!" My kids, even in their young age, have a sense of pain, a respect for it, and intuitively don't seek to hurt others. I never stopped them from climbing up on chairs and swan diving off. I never needed to. When they were very young, first mobile, I allowed them to benefit from their bad decisions. You'd be shocked to learn they never injured themselves (they didn't have the ability) and now refuse to injure themselves (by deference to their experience). My kids can climb higher, run faster, walk with more balance, and escape from more containment areas (sometimes to my chagrine) than any 4 and 2 year old I have ever met. They have been shocked, bit, stung, slammed, scraped, and bruised, usually by their own chinanigans, and as they get older, their injuries are less, while their peers are more. Helicopter mothers fall into conniptions when they see my children, but I screen the defense. My kids will learn. They will live.
The other day my two year old fell into a pond with his winter gear on. I stood and watched him. He panicked, thrashed, sucked in water, but then regained his composure, righted himself, found his footing and climbed out.
He learned that because I filled his bathtub "a little too much" each time and let him learn the fear water can bring. Now he knows it and he masters it. Their survival is less and less dependent on me. As they go on, survival instincts will be automatic. When a gunman crashes through their school room door, they will be the ones who throw binders, books, chairs, and pens until they can close with and destoy, ripping eyes from sockets and jaws from heads until the threat is dead. By the sheer love of life they have learned from experiencing it as a contingency.
Be sure, ladies and gentlemen, that you all are not arm-chair survivalists. When TSHTF, verbal cues that you can survive will gather you up trust and followers. Don't be a killer through negligence. Your fat belly will become your childrens fat belly; your empty words but no food storage will become your childrens starvation; your "woulda-shoulda-coulda" will be your childrens' grave. Ductus exemplo. Go out and live. Don't survive. Live.
Poltak
What now? Whether it happens in 10, 20 or 100 years, some sort of collapse is coming, be it financial, socio-political, I know not. Teaching and hoping that our children will enjoy the lives we have, preparing them to live in this world is a good idea. We don't want a bunch of pre-emptive wierdos running around. Hoping that your hope or what you know will somehow save your kids is fool-hardy and a grand example of a pernicious selfless action. Only a man's own knowledge and experience will save him. Clinging to someone better prepared without learning usually just prolongs the inevitable.
So how do we prepare our children? For my part, I started in their infancy. Really. While never endangering them, I challanged the notions of how one treats an infant by using faster movements, stronger motions, and more rigorous treatment. My kids learned to move more efficiently quicker. My wife and I made the agreement to never console them when their injuries were not serious. Usually, a "boo-boo" exuded the response, "That's awesome!" or, "Bite him back!" My kids, even in their young age, have a sense of pain, a respect for it, and intuitively don't seek to hurt others. I never stopped them from climbing up on chairs and swan diving off. I never needed to. When they were very young, first mobile, I allowed them to benefit from their bad decisions. You'd be shocked to learn they never injured themselves (they didn't have the ability) and now refuse to injure themselves (by deference to their experience). My kids can climb higher, run faster, walk with more balance, and escape from more containment areas (sometimes to my chagrine) than any 4 and 2 year old I have ever met. They have been shocked, bit, stung, slammed, scraped, and bruised, usually by their own chinanigans, and as they get older, their injuries are less, while their peers are more. Helicopter mothers fall into conniptions when they see my children, but I screen the defense. My kids will learn. They will live.
The other day my two year old fell into a pond with his winter gear on. I stood and watched him. He panicked, thrashed, sucked in water, but then regained his composure, righted himself, found his footing and climbed out.
He learned that because I filled his bathtub "a little too much" each time and let him learn the fear water can bring. Now he knows it and he masters it. Their survival is less and less dependent on me. As they go on, survival instincts will be automatic. When a gunman crashes through their school room door, they will be the ones who throw binders, books, chairs, and pens until they can close with and destoy, ripping eyes from sockets and jaws from heads until the threat is dead. By the sheer love of life they have learned from experiencing it as a contingency.
Be sure, ladies and gentlemen, that you all are not arm-chair survivalists. When TSHTF, verbal cues that you can survive will gather you up trust and followers. Don't be a killer through negligence. Your fat belly will become your childrens fat belly; your empty words but no food storage will become your childrens starvation; your "woulda-shoulda-coulda" will be your childrens' grave. Ductus exemplo. Go out and live. Don't survive. Live.
Poltak