Decrease: (v) to diminish or lessen
I was a god.
A ruler by passion, muscle and erection.
Nothing seemed to matter other than me.
I forced myself to be humble.
I pretended to have brief spurts of weakness so as not to frustrate those who were trying to keep up.
I tried to run my life by my emotional and spiritual sensibility, but my energies far surpassed my willingness to be cooperative.
I was a man, a husband, a lover—a domineering force who tenderized my efforts through a studied understanding.
People called me dad. I was their father—and able to father more.
I was the one who lifted things.
I was the one who solved problems that involved movement and pounds.
I was strong.
And then one day—and it seemed like just one day—it changed.
The young men born into my house were suddenly surging.
- I was present but not omnipresent.
- I was potent but not omnipotent.
I saw them growing—each finding his place.
I spied them bringing intelligent people into their lives.
I was becoming a symbol, a memory—a standard.
It was time for me to decrease in my importance and allow the world around me and those I loved to increase in their decision-making will.
At first, I resisted—and when I did, the young ones were compelled by the natural order to pull away from me, to make their mark.
But when I realized that my decreasing gave license to their increasing, it brought me joy to know that somewhere in the vast unfolding, I still offered value.
I am no longer a god.
I had sons.
They brought daughters who birthed children.
I had to decrease so they could increase.
But in doing so, I found my better place.