Growing Independence

I discovered early on in my life as a mom that letting go and fostering independence are a huge part of the process of parenting. The trick is to figure out when and how. This is never clearcut and is different for every child. Something that worked for Walkingstick often does not for Gigglebox. While they are similar in so many ways, they are also dramatically different. Certainly no cookie cutter parenting going on in our house, or anyone else’s I’m sure.

Being the oldest Walkingstick has always embraced independence a bit more quickly than his brother. I, however, am not always so quick to recognize his ability to do so. Because he can be so self sufficient, at times I forget to give the support he needs. Other times I don’t pay attention to all the signs he’s giving me that he is ready to take an independent leap until he gets crabby with me, such as “It’s not your homework, Mom, why are you so worried about it!” Sometimes I need a push rather than a nudge. :P

Gigglebox on the other hands is generally perfectly content to be the little brother and continue his dependence on Mom, Dad, or big brother to do things for him or take on his responsibilities.  However, once he has mastered a task, has supports in place, and the expectation for him to be independent are clear, he usually rises to the occasion. Recently he has begun to recognize his own need for more independence and has pushed us a bit.

As I recognize their differences I am reminded to continually pay attention to the little things. The aspects of their personalities and perspectives that inform me about who they are and how they see the world. When I’m more tuned in, we have fewer struggles. When I’m tuned in, I help them tune in to themselves and those around them. Connecting without expectation of anything in return.

Pema Chodron’s book on compassionate living is entitled Start Where You Are. An amazingly simple statement with profound meaning. Start where I am and start with my children where they are. Not ahead, not behind, but right where we are at this very moment. Being gentle when we (or they) aren't where we think we should be. Being compassionate with ourselves when we realize we started three miles beyond where our little one is.

Be here now. "There is always grace in the present moment," as my dear friend Marie told me yesterday.

Namaste

Parenting with my heart

Over the years of teaching yoga, friends who have come to my classes have told me how my voice changes as I start teaching class. We call it my yoga voice. As I begin class I feel my words move from coming out of my head to out of my heart. My generally high pitched voice changes to a slightly deeper and more resonant sound. I still laugh and giggle, especially at myself when I tip over or mix up body parts, but there is a different place that the yoga comes from in my body.

I was contemplating this at the end of class on Saturday as I enjoyed the peaceful sense of calm I experience when leading my class into relaxation. Then the light bulb flashed on. I have been spending far too much of my time parenting from my head instead of from my heart. My head parenting gets cranky and irritable, often irrational and overreactive, high pitched and high strung. My heart parenting is kinder, more patience, and allows for space and silence.

They say the people in our lives are mirrors of us. My children have certainly been mirroring my spending too much time in my head as of late.

For the past two days I have spent more time and energy intentionally breathing into my heart, allowing for silence, practicing compassion, then speaking or acting. As my energy and reactions change, so does that of those around me. My mirrors, my children, have begun to move from a different place as well.

Now I have no doubts I'll falter and stumble, it is after all a practice. But how fortunate I feel for the opportunity that teaching and parenting offer me to practice listening to and moving from my heart first. Allowing rather than forcing, breathing in and out, again and again and again.

May you be safe
May you be happy
May you be healthy
May you have peace
May you awaken to the light of your true nature.
May you be free.
~metta blessing of lovingkindness

Practicing what I teach

In every yoga class I teach I encourage my students to listen to their bodies, pushing themselves to their edge but not beyond it. I share this same lesson with my children, helping them to notice and understand the messages their bodies give them. And then...

...and then I busily run around working on a bazillion different projects not paying attention to my own body's messages such as nearly falling asleep while writing at the computer, puffy tired eyes when I wake up, and a need for too much Awake tea everyday to name a few examples, until my body has enough and decides to let me know in a bit louder voice that enough is enough and I need to rest, really rest.

So on Monday morning when my sweet husband awakened me I was quickly greeted by a headache. Now I get headaches fairly often and didn't think too much of it. I usually press on, drink  water, maybe a bit of caffiene, do some yoga and energy work and it usually settles out.

Not this time. Moments after getting out of bed I realized that bed was the only place I was going to be that day. Not just a little annoyance of a headache this time, but a nausea inducing, eye piercing, room spinning, sound and movement sensitive migraine. My body was no longer saying slow down and take a rest, it said STOP! in no uncertain terms. So, finally, I listened (what choice did I have at this point) and I stopped.

I stopped for the entire day, barely dragging myself out of bed at midday to try to eat something and continued to rest or sleep until late afternoon. I was still not quite myself until the next morning, but in all that stopping and resting I remember that lesson I say everyday and remembered I have to practice what I teach. Listening to, respecting, and honoring my body's messages. Trusting that when I do, I am healthier, happier, and more grounded than when I run around like a chicken with my head cut off ignoring that fact entirely.

Again I am reminded this is a practice. Yoga and life. We don't always get it right and sometimes we need a siren instead of a whisper to notice. But we can laugh, be gentle with ourselves, and practice some more.

Namaste

What's in a decade?

So much can go into a decade. More than I ever imagined. A decade ago tonight I was in labor with my oldest son. Excited, scared, and in awe of the amazing ability I was given to grow a baby in my womb. I had no idea at that moment how my life would change and grow with this baby boy.

Every year on the eve of their birthdays, we tell our boys their birth stories and look through the wonder of their first year and sometimes beyond. Their stories are magical to me and they treasure hearing them each year. As we look through the tremendous growth of that first year from a completely dependent infant to a toddling boy with a scrunchy face grin I am reminded of the gift parenthood is in my life. I look at the innocent face of my baby boy along side the naive faces of his parents. We had no concept of the joys or challenges that awaited us.

I sometimes wish I could say I am always the parent I planned to be, but reality is a much richer picture. I hope that our mistakes and missteps, along with the moments we get it all right, will teach them that none of us are perfect, yet we can continue to strive for excellence. Acknowledging our mistakes, learning from them, and growing stronger along the way.

I realized a decade ago as I labored to birth my sweet walkingstick that giving birth and raising a child is so much about letting go, a lesson I revisit daily. So often as parents we want to hold on to and protect our children and that is very much a part of the process. But we must also let go enough so they can take those steps into independence. My biggest struggles as a parent are often at this juncture when they are ready to step and I have not yet let go. I try to see each little bit of independence as a letting go, in hopes that it won't be so hard when they leave the nest for good (although I'm observing from friends with adult children that they often return when you least expect it!). I'll let you know how that has worked in another eight years. Yipes!

Tonight I am letting go again as my sweet boy becomes a ten year old. I had no idea it would be so hard and yet I am so proud and amazed by the boy he is today. Kind, intelligent, insightful, and curious, yet still full of attitude and oblivious at times. When I can honor all he is I also honor all I am.

I celebrate this decade full of hugs, kisses, giggles, tears, struggles, growth, celebrations, and loss. My life is richer for having shared this decade with my darling boy.

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.

Compassion for ourselves

I taught a meditation workshop yesterday afternoon that was lovely and peaceful and very illuminating. I do not consider myself a meditation expert, but really enjoy introducing people to the concept of meditation and especially compassion focused meditation.

As we practiced, the theme of compassion emerged. This in the first yama of the eight-limbed path of yoga and is called Ahimsa in sanskrit. One student provided the best opportunity to demonstrate the practice of Ahimsa.

We were practice a metta blessing of loving-kindness toward ourselves. When we finished, she shared that she often struggles in life with giving too much of herself to others. During the meditation she found herself thinking of others when she was intending to focus on compassion for herself. Then, she was critical of herself for this. I so appreciate her honesty.

This is exactly what most of us do in meditation and in life. And this is the perfect moment to then practice compassion for ourselves. Recognizing that this is a pattern of thinking we have engaged in for many, many years and that we practice compassion by gently recognizing that we have strayed in our focus and returning to our intention. That is the practice and we offer ourselves opportunities everyday to recognize those moments and practice Ahimsa.

I see this harsh evaluation of missteps in myself and in my children. As a parent I try to model compassionate responses as often as I can, but definitely struggle when I'm having a difficult day. On those days I easily get caught up in the negative thoughts streaming through my mind and struggle to let go and refocus on compassion, for myself and them. The judgment creates barriers and walls between me and my children (or anyone else I am upset with), whereas compassion creates connections and understanding.

Image how the world can be different if we all work toward being more compassionate toward ourselves first, filling our own bucket, and then we can truly share that compassion with others, filling theirs. That positive energy can make such a difference in the world.

How often do you focus on cultivating compassion for yourself?

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.