Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends
(The title is a quote by Hafiz).
I have the priveledge of being with a lot of mothers every week. Many mornings, I speak with other gentle mamas as I drop my boy off at preschool. I speak with mamas as we stand around the periphery of a park and watch our children play as if they have known each other forever. I have been at their sides as they birthed their babies. I have weekly dates with my best friends, who are now mamas too. I also have the priveledge to teach mom and baby yoga once a week. Through those classes, a special sort of community of mothers has formed. Looking back, it's been more than four years, on and off through maternity breaks... that's a lot of mothers bringing their babies together, week after week.
Two things I notice. One, is that, we really are of the same heart. We all want to be great moms, and we worry that we are not. We all adore our children - everything about our child tugs on our heart, the sighs at night, the special ways they move that we study since they are babies, each and every smile, especially the first ones. We are surprised at how much our children fill our hearts. It's so strong, it's surprising.
We all are human, and as human beings we are daunted at moments by what we have taken on, the depth, width, breadth of the commitment of being a mother. How many times have I heard a woman say, "No one told me it would be this challenging! Why didn't they tell me about (fill in the blank - loss of sleep, crying and wailing, how scary it is the first time they get sick - all the parts of being a mother that are immense)?"
I guess you could say that the moms I meet in my daily life are of the same culture. And, if you start to talk to people, I imagine that we really truly all are of the same heart, worldwide. We want everything for our children. We want to do well for them. We adore our children and want to treasure them in our arms as long as we can. We would do anything so that they thrive.
When I was giving birth, especially for my first child, I really did, in the throes of that passionate and painful moment of transition, have a vision of all the mothers who had come before me, who had all done what I was doing. Think about it, every single human being on the whole planet was carried inside of their mother. That is the only way we have ever brought a human into the world. The only way.
The other thing I observe is that we do better when we are together.
Maybe it is function of that same heart; we do better when all the parts of a heart, all the muscles are working as one. Like the Hafiz quote, we are very old friends. And without friends (this includes family) we would just not thrive as mothers.
One yoga student came up to me recently, with a brand new baby in her arms, just beaming. I mean, radiant, in her rumpled tee-shirt and sleepy cheeks after savasanah. This brightness was a marked difference than her expression in the same yoga glass for her first baby. When I asked her about it she said she is just so taken care of by the mothers she knows now. She has people bringing her meals, watching out for her big boy toddler, just coming by to talk. They threw her a lovely blessing way or baby shower. So she is just provided for, cared for and she has all the more energy to just enjoy the fleeting newborn baby days. She did not have this same community tending to her with her first baby, and it was stressful. She kept talking about how grateful she is and how the experience of having a newborn (even with the added challenge of a toddler as well) is estatic. It was so touching, lovely. Is this not as it is meant to be?
It is the commitment of my heart that mothers have support and connection like this dear mother of two. If a mother is supported so that she can relax and express her natural love for her children...is that not the world we would love to live in? A world where our heart can beat as one.
I have the priveledge of being with a lot of mothers every week. Many mornings, I speak with other gentle mamas as I drop my boy off at preschool. I speak with mamas as we stand around the periphery of a park and watch our children play as if they have known each other forever. I have been at their sides as they birthed their babies. I have weekly dates with my best friends, who are now mamas too. I also have the priveledge to teach mom and baby yoga once a week. Through those classes, a special sort of community of mothers has formed. Looking back, it's been more than four years, on and off through maternity breaks... that's a lot of mothers bringing their babies together, week after week.
Two things I notice. One, is that, we really are of the same heart. We all want to be great moms, and we worry that we are not. We all adore our children - everything about our child tugs on our heart, the sighs at night, the special ways they move that we study since they are babies, each and every smile, especially the first ones. We are surprised at how much our children fill our hearts. It's so strong, it's surprising.
We all are human, and as human beings we are daunted at moments by what we have taken on, the depth, width, breadth of the commitment of being a mother. How many times have I heard a woman say, "No one told me it would be this challenging! Why didn't they tell me about (fill in the blank - loss of sleep, crying and wailing, how scary it is the first time they get sick - all the parts of being a mother that are immense)?"
I guess you could say that the moms I meet in my daily life are of the same culture. And, if you start to talk to people, I imagine that we really truly all are of the same heart, worldwide. We want everything for our children. We want to do well for them. We adore our children and want to treasure them in our arms as long as we can. We would do anything so that they thrive.
When I was giving birth, especially for my first child, I really did, in the throes of that passionate and painful moment of transition, have a vision of all the mothers who had come before me, who had all done what I was doing. Think about it, every single human being on the whole planet was carried inside of their mother. That is the only way we have ever brought a human into the world. The only way.
The other thing I observe is that we do better when we are together.
Maybe it is function of that same heart; we do better when all the parts of a heart, all the muscles are working as one. Like the Hafiz quote, we are very old friends. And without friends (this includes family) we would just not thrive as mothers.
One yoga student came up to me recently, with a brand new baby in her arms, just beaming. I mean, radiant, in her rumpled tee-shirt and sleepy cheeks after savasanah. This brightness was a marked difference than her expression in the same yoga glass for her first baby. When I asked her about it she said she is just so taken care of by the mothers she knows now. She has people bringing her meals, watching out for her big boy toddler, just coming by to talk. They threw her a lovely blessing way or baby shower. So she is just provided for, cared for and she has all the more energy to just enjoy the fleeting newborn baby days. She did not have this same community tending to her with her first baby, and it was stressful. She kept talking about how grateful she is and how the experience of having a newborn (even with the added challenge of a toddler as well) is estatic. It was so touching, lovely. Is this not as it is meant to be?
It is the commitment of my heart that mothers have support and connection like this dear mother of two. If a mother is supported so that she can relax and express her natural love for her children...is that not the world we would love to live in? A world where our heart can beat as one.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
My darlings as it flies by
I love the light in this image. It captures the nostalgic nature of being a mother. It is all written in the heart, but it seems like every once and a while, you look up and you actually see your children, alive and playing, and you really see them. And, because the moments between actually seeing them, and the rest - where we are all scurrying around trying to do stuff, get things done, and running about like hamsters on a wheel - are so rare and precious, emphasizes this feeling of it flying by.
This pathway that Micah is riding on is the same pathway I played on when I was that same age. This is a miracle of a sort, for me, as I was raised an international citizen - with a father in the American military and a mother from Colombia. There are not many places that are familiar in my life. The home where my parents now reside is the first home they ever purchased when I was a preschooler; they remodeled it after their children all flew the nest.
One Mother's Day, as I was speaking with my Mom and acknowledging her for what a wonderful job she did, I was suprised by what popped out of my mouth, "When I have children, I promise to always live close to you, as a gift to thank you for the kind of Mom you are." And, now, look at us, as the time flies past, we living close by and enjoying weekly play-dates at Mama Fafa's house.
If I ever hear a common theme from people who have loved and raised their children, it is "enjoy them, because it goes so fast." So, I am trusting the Moms and Dads who have gone before me on this one, and I am, as best as I humanly can, enjoying my darlings as it flies by.
Being a full-time mom and being free
The other morning as I came down the stairs after showering, I realized that I had been on my own upstairs for more than thirty minutes. That meant my two little ones (four and almost-three) had been downstairs on their own for that long. And in that moment I saw something that had been a standard for me since I became a mother.
As a student of yoga and meditation for more than a decade, I have aspired to be someone who is "present." Someone who is observing their thoughts, someone who chooses which thoughts to honor, instead of reacting. And someone who makes this a practice not only on the meditation pillow, but who practices observing my mind all the time. And until I stepped down the stairs the other morning I had never seen that I expect myself to be consciously engaged with my children ALL THE TIME. With as much rigor as a meditator practices. In the same moment I saw that that was insane and impossible.
It IS actually impossible to be engaged with one's child or children 24/7. But I could see some how that had become my standard. No wonder, looking back, I had been irritated washing dishes, when it used to be an activity that relaxed me and I enjoyed. No wonder, I had been tense as I prepared food or blow-dried my hair.
I got that I could choose to be free. Free to be a human being, seperate from my beautiful children. Free to relax and take some moments of private, quiet time. This week, after seeing this, I have actually followed my baby-sitter's encouragement and have left the kids after nighttime rituals and kisses to fall asleep themselves.
This freedom, having space around my body to myself, and inside my own head as well, is relaxing, lighter, and, actually, freeing.
As a student of yoga and meditation for more than a decade, I have aspired to be someone who is "present." Someone who is observing their thoughts, someone who chooses which thoughts to honor, instead of reacting. And someone who makes this a practice not only on the meditation pillow, but who practices observing my mind all the time. And until I stepped down the stairs the other morning I had never seen that I expect myself to be consciously engaged with my children ALL THE TIME. With as much rigor as a meditator practices. In the same moment I saw that that was insane and impossible.
It IS actually impossible to be engaged with one's child or children 24/7. But I could see some how that had become my standard. No wonder, looking back, I had been irritated washing dishes, when it used to be an activity that relaxed me and I enjoyed. No wonder, I had been tense as I prepared food or blow-dried my hair.
I got that I could choose to be free. Free to be a human being, seperate from my beautiful children. Free to relax and take some moments of private, quiet time. This week, after seeing this, I have actually followed my baby-sitter's encouragement and have left the kids after nighttime rituals and kisses to fall asleep themselves.
This freedom, having space around my body to myself, and inside my own head as well, is relaxing, lighter, and, actually, freeing.
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