Back to School Haiku

Over the past few weeks as school has started, I have heard conversations, read blogs, and seen social media posts from countless parents talking about the transitions their children are experiencing and the impact for both parents and children. I offer this little haiku in support.

Marking each milestone

Letting children go to grow

The journey unfolds

May each little letting go bring the potential for more balance in your life and the opportunity for your child to shine a little brighter. 

Namaste

Wisdom Practice

I'm so proud of family today. We all had the chance to completely lose our cool and each of us found the space and wisdom to do otherwise.

Here's how it played out...
I received a text from walkingstick this afternoon telling me that he just realized he left his computer at school...outside...in front of the school...in a laptop bag that looks like it holds a pricey little laptop. I texted back, "Seriously!!!Where is it?" Then dialed his number before he could reply. I felt my face flush with heat as he answered and took a deep breath before asking him what specifically had happened and where he thought he'd left it.  Defensive whining and escalation began, but stopped abruptly with a calm reminder - not sure how that actually came out calm...more breathing.

I realized I was thirty minutes away, he was at least twenty if the sitter took him back, but my husband might be about five minutes away if he was in his office. Walkingstick was not thrilled with the idea of getting Dad involved, but knew the situation called for all hands on deck. I rang the school first to see if someone could go out and check, but the phones had already been turned over to voicemail. Walkingstick was envisioning the grim reaper coming.

I called my husband and interrupted a high level, relatively stressful meeting. Realizing this was about the worst timing ever, I decided I'd drop it and take the risk of heading over there myself. He insisted on me telling him what was going on since he'd already stepped out of the meeting. I told him and could practically hear the explosions going off in his head...the computer is only a month old.

He left the meeting, headed to the school, and called me as he arrived. No computer bag in front of the school. The front door was locked, but a staff member saw him and let him in. No computer turned in at the front desk. He headed over to the after school care building...No computer bag there. I was sure his eyes were nearly popping out of his face and steam was coming out of his ears. I worked to keep a calm voice and think of alternatives for where it could be...more breathing...long and slow...sending all that calm energy to him.

I called walkingstick to see what students and staff members were still outside as he was leaving. He told me he thinks he could have set it down in the parking lot when he opened the door to the sitter's car. Flames begin licking my ears. I breath more and call my husband back.

We decided he'd go to the classroom to see if a teacher picked it up. He'd call me back. I was certain I could feel the vibrations of his shoes pounding down the tile hallway from across the city. I was back on the phone with walkingstick working other possible angles and keeping his anxiety down when my husband rang through.

The computer was sitting beside walkingstick's desk...the whole time...he'd never even taken it outside!!! Dad was livid and I was saying...best possible scenario! Whew! He doesn't want to see or talk to walkingstick after all of that. Fortunately, he needs to return to his meeting which gives him some space.

I called walkingstick to tell him the news. He was relieved and grateful, but terrified of what his consequences would be and of seeing his dad. He was sobbing into the phone, apologizing, and ...

I arrived home to a somber house with heads hanging low and bloodshot eyes. I couldn't believe how calm I felt. I was so relieved we found it that I didn't really need to be upset. I talked with walkingstick about apologizing to his dad, showing gratitude for his help, and a plan to keep track of his computer a bit better.

Distraction, time, and space were a blessing for all of us when my husband came home and said he realized that walkingstick had already said to himself all the things Dad would say, so he was letting it go. No lecture, no tears, just lessons learned ~ by all of us.

...I wrote this post months ago, but never got around to publishing it. Reading through it I'm amazed at our collective self-control and ability to keep things in perspective. It was, afterall, a missing computer, not a missing child. Wisdom!

Namaste

Gratitude for the simple things

After more than a week of being in the hospital my aunt is getting a bit tired of the cuisine. You can only eat so many servings of mashed potatoes and al dente does not seem to be an option in vegetables.

So, as I was heading for a visit this afternoon and stopped at Target to see what I could scrounge up. Bread and cheese are an absolute favorite of hers, so that's what I went for. The bread was not as crusty as I'd like and I had to settle for Havarti instead of Jarlsburg, but by the look on my aunt's face it definitely hit the spot. =)

We had lots of laughs and a lovely talk from the basics of medical issues to the meaning of life. Wonderful! If we had the time we could talk for days on end.

I came home to boys nearly ready for bed and tired husband. He'd made fabulous enchiladas which I promptly gobbled up. Walkingstick climbed behind me and sweetly rubbed my back and shoulders then we all read a chapter of the hilarious book we are reading - Another Whole Nother Story - and yes it's as absurd and delightful as it sounds.

The small comforts of life...good food and time spent together. So much to be grateful for.

Facing Challenges

It's amazing how we all handle the challenges life throws at us in different ways. For the most part I am constantly amazed at the strength and perseverence I am honored to witness from the people in my life.

My dear aunt was thrown another curve ball in her journey through ovarian cancer. Her doctors unexpectedly diagnosed her with three brain tumors and whooshed her off for brain surgery the next day. In the brief in between time she said to me, "I guess I have another lesson to learn." An unbelievably optimistic and courageous response in the face of such daunting news. I suggested neon signs were a more effective means of communicating what we need to learn, but the universe apparently thought otherwise.

The thing about her perspective is that is a good reminder that we all have lessons to learn in this process. We also have choices about how we will respond to this new challenge before us. Choices about how we support her and each other, whether we hold hope or give up, whether we view the struggle as part of the journey or as an unbearable burden, and whether we remember to treasure each moment with the ones we love valuing them for who they truly are or buy into the roles and stories we have created for ourselves and each other. Our responses impact how we will come through this crisis as well as how she will.

Sharing all of this with my sons has been both difficult and beautiful. Telling them what was happening seemed brutal and scary when everything was so up in the air. Yet they responded with tears and hope and an immediate desire to see her and support her. They have been able to go on with their days while still offering love, support, and understanding to each other and to me when one of us was struggling. They have shown me that they can be as strong and courageous in the face of adversity as my dear aunt has been.

For everyone facing adversity, no matter how big or small:
May you be safe.
May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May you have peace.
May you awaken to the light of their true nature.
May you be free.

Namaste



 

None of us get out of it alive

This is a quote from my aunt today, "None of us get out of it alive." What is it, you may ask? Life. Oh, the irreverence!!! And the laughter that followed.

We will all die at some point, we just don't know when that will be.  The question then arises ~ how do we live each day fully while still acknowledging our mortality and the fact that we could die at any time?

My aunt and I struggled with this question today as we discussed her cancer prognosis. It seems to be a paradox, but it reminds me of the yogic teachings of non-clinging, aparigraha. Accepting what is without holding on. Being present without trying to control the outcome of our actions. 

I had a visual image of walking a line and leaning from to the left, then right; moving from light to dark; from hopeful to hopeless. Then more irreverence..."weebles wobble, but they don't fall down." We all wobble along that line every day, although sometimes we dip too far into one side or the other, drowning in denial or darkness.

As I think about my life, I am reminded that truly all I have is this moment. Nothing else is guaranteed. Whether the moment is full of laughter and joy, pain and sorrow, or something in between, this moment is the only one I have. It can be difficult to stay present when I'm tired, frustrated, and at the end of my rope. It's easy to escape into drama, self-pity, or blaming others.

But what can I teach my children by practicing staying present, being in the moment, recognizing when to let things go? I can teach them trust, acceptance, and love. My daily struggles and successes as a mom and human being can be lessons for them and me.

I can teach them to honor and savor each moment, to rejoice in what they have, to know that they are loved, and that their love and lives make a difference to others.

It often takes the reality of loss to help us cherish what we have because it is so hard to wobble along that line, feeling each moment fully.

May this remind you (and me) to notice this moment and all that it has to offer, then with lovingkindness gently release it as we step into the next moment, should it be there.

Namaste

Believe

To believe in more than ourselves and more than we can see is an amazing thing. Right now, my children's hearts are full of belief in magic, generosity, and Santa Claus.

To watch them write their lists, spend days contemplating what they will leave him for a snack, and track Santa across the world online has been a joy and a wonder. This morning Walkingstick raced upstairs in a panic to find me. He'd been online and was absolutely certain that Santa was going too slow and was not going to make to our house in time. He was desperately anxious for reassurance that he really would make it.

In an age when many children no longer believe in Santa and lose their innocence so young, I am so grateful that my sons still believe. Although they have asked many questions this year wondering how it can all happen, they truly believe in the wonder and spirit of Santa Claus. We generally encourage them to think of their own answers to how he can travel the world and it is always amazing what they come up with. They are much more creative than we would be.

We heard about a book this year called The Truth About Santa. It suggests that Santa uses all sorts of science to manage him monumental task. As we talked about warp drives taking him from one place to the next in a split second, Gigglebox had a huge aha moment. "That's why Christmas Eve always seems so long, Mom, because Santa stops time with his warp drive!"

There is always magic in the season of the Solstice, Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanza. For me it is the gathering of family, the gift of time together, the light we bring to each others hearts as we move beyond our own lives to consider others, and an opportunity for all of us to consciously practice compassion.

May this season bring you much joy and may you find compassion in your heart for yourself as well as those whom you touch each day.

Getting stuck

Last week a friend posted a comment that she was having one of those days where she was seeing more of what she didn't have than what she did have. We all have those moments, days, or weeks where we get stuck and cannot seem to get unstuck. It seemed a simple, honest statement at the time, but it blossomed into a powerful teaching tool about perspective and attitude.

That evening one of my sons began lamenting about not getting the brownie he wanted and was nearly inconsolable with the unfairness of it all as he went to bed. The other was frustrated with a situation that wasn't going right for him at school. My friend's comment popped into my head and sparked an attitude adjustment for us all. I talked with them about having a choice to focus on what they didn't get and what went wrong or to put their attention on all the opportunities and things they did have and that had gone right. As we listed off the many positives in their day, the negatives began to seem quite small and insignificant. When offered that seemingly simple choice, both were able to move on and let go of the drama of the moment. Getting unstuck.

I so appreciate that my friend shared her struggle that day. Without her honesty I would not have had the inspiration to teach that concept to my sons. It is not easy to admit when we are struggling or stuck. I find when I do, others are there to support me and find a connection with their own struggles. Admitting frailty and failure, while difficult, helps me to be more compassionate and gentle with myself and others, and to remember to embrace all that I do have.

The allure of whipped cream

The pies of Thanksgiving always have me thinking about whipped cream. Yum! The whipped cream also reminds me of two great stories.

A few weeks ago my oldest son had a cold. To decrease the mucus with the cold I usually eliminate dairy from his diet for a few days. Unfortunately, the day he got sick, Dad came home with pie, ice cream, and whipped cream. He had pie, but not the toppings and was none to happy with Mama about that. I promised him I would let him have a bowl full of both ice cream and whipped cream for a treat when he was feeling better, but apparently he wasn't quite convinced I would follow through.

A couple of days later I was coming down the stairs and he came scurrying toward me from the kitchen and gave me a big hug. I didn't think too much about it, but a couple a minutes later he came back to me and told me he had to confess. Unbeknownst to me, he had been sneaking whipped cream from the container in the refrigerator when I came down the stairs. He said he didn't think I would really let him have some when he was better, so he had been sneaking big scoops of it with his hands.
He was really worried I'd be mad at him. Instead I surprised him by laughing and hugging him, then sharing with him my own story of succumbing to the allure of whipped cream.

As a little girl I had the good fortune to spend a great deal of time with my Grandma. Much of that time was also spent with my dear cousin GB. Every afternoon Grandma would take a nap for an hour or two and GB and I were supposed to rest, watch TV, or play quietly. Being curious girls we frequently found ourselves up to our eyeballs in trouble instead. Grandma had a variety of items around the house that we found quite irresistible and would frequently sneak while she was napping. The most infamous was the Cool Whip in the freezer.

GB and I loved Cool Whip and Grandma always kept a few containers in the freezer for family dinners. Once we discovered this, we made it a habit to slip into the freezer, open a container, and scrap a spoon or our fingers across the top for a little taste. We would smooth the top evenly and one time left the thinnest layer possible in the bottom of the bowl to make sure we hadn't eaten the whole thing. Somehow we fooled ourselves into believing Grandma wouldn't notice. Well, she definitely noticed!

As adults when the pies and the whipped cream came out at Thanksgiving, Grandma would tell the story of going to the freezer to get the Cool Whip and discovering the all but empty container. We tried to defend ourselves, but usually ended up laughing and confessing countless other ridiculous things we'd done while Grandma was napping. The afternoons with GB and Grandma telling that story are some of my favorite memories.

After hearing this story, my son was relieved that he was not the only one to feel the allure of whipped cream and excited that I had shared the story with him.  It was a wonderful moment of connection for the two of us. I was so proud of him for being honest with me and relieved that I had been able to handle the situation with grace and humor.

I love these moments of confident parenting when it all seems to come together. They make the frequent times of struggle much more bearable and remind me that I can be the parent I want to be, but I don't have to be perfect (and neither do my kids).

A nostalgic heart

Being one of those people to whom nostalgia comes easily, I frequently struggle with not clinging to the past. The practice of Aparigraha allows me to raise my awareness of this and to work toward being present each moment here and now. Holidays seem especially challenging for me in this practice.

As I reflect this Thanksgiving morning on all the blessings of my life, my heart is both full and saddened. I have so much for which to be thankful and yet part of me longs for those Thanksgivings of old. So many precious memories of grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, foods, afternoon naps, football games, loud rounds of cards, and most of all laughter and joy. Nothing was every perfect, but it is so sweet to soften those edges of memory by letting go of the imperfections.

And as I write, the big ah-ha moment comes...the non-clinging, aparigraha, has to do with both the good and the bad. I so often think of it only as clinging to what I want, forgetting that forgiveness and letting go of difficult times is a vital part of the practice. By not holding on to the hurt, we allow old wounds heal making room in our heart for more love and kindness.

I see this same nostalgic heart in both of my boys. It surfaces as they struggle to give away old books or toys they no longer use, pictures they drew, crafts they made, or even sticks and rocks they found on hike one day. The memories of the day and the people to whom they connect those objects create such strong attachments for them. They often feel as though they will lose that memory and connection if they no longer have the object. As I look at the objects around our house that were my grandmothers or my moms, I'm thinking it must be in our genes.

Today I am missing my grandma and the home her heart provided me.  I feel myself holding on, clinging to the desire to have it all like it was before. But as I listen to my sons chatting, watch them enjoy the Thanksgiving Day parade that my grandfather loved, smell the foods of the day beginning to simmer, I realize that like every Thanksgiving, this one too will be its own special day. It will have memories and experiences we will talk about for years to come. I just don't know yet what they'll be.

I continue to strive to be present for each moment, honoring the old memories while creating new ones. Living the practice and modeling that for my sons.

Just Bee

I love the Bee Movie. It has so many awesome lessons on relationships, the environment, standing up for what's right, and unintended consequences.

We had the pleasure of watching it this evening and just being. (Pun intended!) I so often am running around the house taking care of little details or working on the computer that I forget to just sit down and be with my family.

As we were all snuggled up tonight I practiced savoring each moment of being together. Recognizing that these were magical moments together, all of us content and relaxed, enjoying a favorite movie and each other.

What was your last magical moment?