Be In Conversation With the Divine

Maybe it is the third child in utero. (What? Yes!) Maybe it is the accompanying exhaustion and nausea. Maybe it the impending move next month and the uncertainty of next steps. Maybe it is the relentless house searching. Maybe it is the simple truth that the householder, parenting dimension of life absolutely devours you such that writing and reflection take a back burner to completing the necessary functions of daily life.

Whatever the truth, my practice of writing and reflection has been harder of late. I’m reminded of a post I wrote several years ago on Practicality and Practice, where I realized that the realm of the practical is indeed also the realm of practice (the words even share the same etymology). It isn’t that spiritual practice, creativity, self-expression or “realization” of any kind is any less important than it always has been and is. It’s just that the practical, logistical domain of life is so all-consuming at times it is difficult to see outwards from this place.

Subsumed. Consumed. Devoured. Annihilated. Submerged. Gone into temporary hiding. Practical life somehow has eclipsed me. It can sneak up on us, and all of the sudden a year (or ten) has passed. Instead, daily life practice becomes waking with some semblance of grace at 5:45am when the stars are still twinkling, making breakfast and school lunch, going to work, closing on the house, changing diapers, mitigating sibling conflicts, getting on the floor and playing legos and dinosaurs, cleaning the kitchen, picking up said legos and dinosaurs, making dinner, cleaning up after dinner, (oh, and dealing with the fruit fly pandemic), bedtime routines and then voila: wake up and do it all again! (Oh, and don’t forget to eat 65 grams of protein a day and take your folic acid, too).

The trouble is without something to come back to over and over again in myself (aka the ballast of a practice, the relief of clarity that comes through reflection and writing, or the act of creativity) I begin to feel groundless and unsettled, missing the restfulness and peace of living from a clarified center of intention and attention. In the midst of The Practical and The Logistical, there is the less rational and less logical realm of soul, psyche and spirit calling, where the home of my dreams is more wild – and I’m called to swim without goal in a vast, deep ocean.

My husband reminds me to “settle into the unsettledness.” There are no problems to solve. There is nothing ‘wrong’ with this iteration of our existence. Different than expected, yes. Exhausting, yes. How I imagined mid-life? Perhaps not fully…But regardless, when I finally do sit down with the pen and journal and ask the simple question, “Where to go from here?” An immediate answer arises: “Be in conversation with the Divine.” 

What does this mean? For me it means that it doesn’t matter what I do (or don’t do), where I live, how many hours sleep I get or how late I am for work or that play-date. It doesn’t matter that a month has gone by and the pen hasn’t hit the paper or the body hasn’t met the meditation cushion. What does matter in this light is to be in conversation with the Divine, and to be merely present with what is. Every ordinary interaction in a day, whether it be with dish-washing soap, the garbage can or my precious (but sometimes frisky) sons, can be experienced as part of an ever-present holy portal, always present, beckoning my full-bodied entry. I can be in relationship with this holy portal. I can stand there and feel into it. I can move swiftly to keep my son from tripping and still feel into it. I can clean the drain and still feel into it. Its not a conventional ‘dialogue’ but more a relationship through feeling, from the experience of the whole body. 

Being in conversation with the Divine means that I am paying close attention to what is arising, both internally and externally. And I am paying attention in such a way that my presence is surrendered to an awareness of a mystery at work greater than myself and beyond my understanding. I can choose to submit myself to the present realm of what is required as a mother and rest into a divine abiding with what is. Then I can reside in a truly non-discriminatory state of mind and heart: where bliss can blend in with moments akin to drudgery, and gratitude can dominate the landscape of duty.

Each of us can stake a claim to our own definitions of Divine. But be clear: move beyond the cerebral, beyond Merriam-Webster defining. Then, whatever the task, whatever the situation, we can feel full-bodily our participation in That. We can live fully in the practical, logistical realm of life, but rather than let ourselves be consumed by only this, we can practice making ourselves available to the possibility of being overcome by an experience of a Divine holy portal, always waiting to devour us into an experience of deeper Love.

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What is Most Important?

A yoga practice in April led me to the following answers to the above question. My future sister-in-law led the practice and invited us to answer the question “what is most important?” The first glimpse of an answer that emerged was spiritual practice. Why? Because this is how I pay homage to Life. This is how I stay rooted in living my most revered state. Without practice I drain an essential life force. I have less to give. It is a foundation from which to move.

Which leads to Embodiment. As I move into a standing yoga asana I feel how the busy week and overwhelming experience of responsibility without enough nourishment not only depletes, it also makes living from a place of feeling, intention and love more difficult. My hands feel farther away. My legs feel more foreign. This contrasts with an experience of integration and flow: where hands and feet are expressions of intention and grace, gentleness and care.

Which leads me to Love. What fills the body/mind in my most revered state? What is practiced? Love. 

So what is most important? A spiritual, day to day, moment to moment practice of embodied (full-bodied) love.

What is most important? The expression of and practice of full-bodied love, even when meeting life’s difficult and sometimes depleting moments. Being love when the rubber hits the road and we are stretched to our limits. Being love when we are at the end of our proverbial ropes. What is most important? Filling our cups of nourishment and practice so that we can draw on vast reservoirs of love that will sustain us in times of need and serve as the primary offering that we give outwards to our families and the world…

Love Is A Practice

Braeden is 3 months old and I pause to take note of the threshold beyond ‘newborn’ that we have crossed. These months a “toss up” quality prevailed: rootless structure, flailing at times under a hot sun that broiled my new mama brain to smithereens. The combination of summer heat and light coupled with new family dynamics often gave way for disorientation and chaos to bloom, even with love simultaneously taking root. The frenzied moments of adjustment were like hot flashes in a pan. There were hard moments of truth to move through. Tears shed. Voices raised. Rowan reckoning with wanting to send his little brother back to the belly (“Mama, next time, could you please try to put Braeden back in your belly so I don’t have to feel so alone?”). Then, all of the sudden, a lot of angst and confusion was metabolized, burned up and giving way for something else to take hold. Staying with difficult emotions and not forcing them into underground shadows, suddenly we’ve turned a corner into a new realm of emergent fondness between brothers and an accompanying deep sigh of relief amongst parents.

Love is a slow and steady practice, particularly in these early days of family bonding and adjusting. As parents we can help foster this practice of love amongst siblings, even when love doesn’t always look as we expect it to. We don’t typically fall in love overnight. Instead, an experience of love takes time, weaving through peaks and valleys and often complex terrain. Can we love what we want to initially push away? Can we practice seeing a reflection of someone like ourselves in those we don’t like at first? Every time Rowan acts out towards Braeden, I tell him to look at his eyes; I say again and again “this is a person! He gets sad just like you!” Staying in connection, empathy begins to surface. Love begins to show a face that is more compassionate and less edgy.

The early days of welcoming a new brother for Rowan showed me that perhaps the practice of Love integrates everything. Love moves its way through the shadows and pain to emerge in a place of more integrated acceptance of what is, even with resistances still present. It is here that I find myself and it is this place that Rowan reflects too. Both of us do the dance of love and surrender and love and resistance in different ways, together. Me resisting the myriad expressions of his challenges and he resisting the presence of his new brother and all the implications therein. Family becomes the hard crucible of transformation that so many of us want to run from. Try as I might, I can’t seem to get away. Day in and day out I am up against the ever-present challenges of required guidance and patience. I slowly enter into a new realm of practiced love between family members, where I catch glimpses of Rowan smiling at his little brother in the rear view mirror. Like a slow blooming plant, the cultivation of love is underway. The key is to keep nourishing the roots of kindness and compassion, even when other emotions may be taking the reins.

So too with other situations in life: we can stay connected, practice love – watering the roots of slow growth into a familiar comfort of being. Rather than proverbially pining for some other thing or condition, we can let go into what is in order to radically transform.

Old Lessons…

Amidst the nesting and preparing for baby to arrive in a few weeks, a confrontation with old self unfolds. Going through old papers, poems from a decade ago fall out. Looking for something, notes in an old journal speak to me in a new way. It’s as if I’m being reminded of where I’ve come from in light of where I am going. At an apex waiting point, teetering towards the birth of my 2nd child, I settle into new rhythms and a renewed self-identity as Mother.

The following are excerpted from the Artist’s Way ‘morning pages’ exercise I undertook about seven years ago. The words jumped out at me from those days of writing three pages of stream of consciousness entries daily for several months. Herein I find sound reminders in light of what often feels like diving off a cliff into the unknowns of childbirth and motherhood…And I remember to look back to my roots for inspiration as new things are about to unfold.

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When we move towards our dreams, we move towards our Divinity. Just breathe and bow, Divinity says. Breathe and bow. Kneel at what is happening and trust a greater process. Become humble to a principle greater than yourself. 

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Practice: to work through confusion, to find a ballast, to find a center through disorientation. To rest in what is. 

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Even the anxiety of tension and resistance is beautiful. Like a sacred circle around ourselves, we can feel into our processes and choose contentment. This is the challenge: to love through closures, to trust ourselves and keep working with our edges. 

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Rather than a question mark, BE the clarity of an answer. 

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When we can trust our conversation with the Divine, we can relax. And, there is also the dry, dull persistence of pushing through difficulty with Trust – and trying to also see the beauty in This.

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If we listen and create, we will be led. We will always be led to Here. Just remember: overwhelm prevents progress. One thing at a time is the key to getting anything meaningful accomplished. Know that the pace is important and don’t stop; Every day, offer something to the whole. Gentleness in the face of overwhelm: this is crucial. 

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Pushing vs. Opening – And Shining a Light on Our Habits Through Practice

To open your body through a sacred and intentional spiritual practice is a precious thing. So simple, such an encounter with Self. Spiritual practice can hold up the mirror and shed light on where we haven’t been true to ourselves and where we obstruct free, open, loving flow of energy and attention through habit or via blind spots we have yet to see into. For me, the practice is Hatha yoga, where after a too-long spell of neglect I finally rediscover my legs, my hands and feet – and re-learn the essential practice of just feeling: just feeling full bodily into the vast mystery of life.

I’m reminded that to maintain a practice of opening the body in an intentional way is especially essential for those of us immersed in the radical shifts required of a woman’s body throughout pregnancy, childbirth and early motherhood. If we don’t attend to our bodies we become stiff, habituated in often imbalancing physical patterns, and generally less intentional with how we place ourselves in space as we shuffle between critical tasks. The practice not only becomes a critical means for maintaining a structure of physical and emotional well-being as we juggle life’s requirements, but it also becomes the vehicle through which we can open ourselves to fresh revelations about ourselves and our lives in an ongoing way.

We can choose to dip into a practice where we can literally plug ourselves into currents of light always available and at work in the body; Plugging into lines of light is ultimately freeing your energy and attention such that there is open, clear, free, loving flow between and within all parts, as well as extending outwards from this place of freedom and openness. It translates into a radiance of experience that permeates and embraces. It also translates into a shedding of light on and within our own experiences that illumines the interior world in all its vast mysteries and complexities. My yoga teacher Sofia always says the feeling of light is actually Love – and it is that experience of Love that is available too in our bodies when we dare to cross the threshold of depth and move beyond conditioning, habit and avoidance of discomfort. As we make ourselves available to the opening of new pathways in our bodies, we can shed light with our attention on the whole of our experience. In this way we bring our full selves further and further into the light of self- understanding and ultimately into embodying the full gift of a beautiful, loving self-expression in the world.

Certain yoga poses have the capacity to usher us down the rabbit hole into the realm of sustained transformation through a simple abiding with sensation – “difficult” as well as pleasant or even blissful. Yoga can take us to the gates of our own personal hell realms of self-avoidance and untruth – where we might tell ourselves lies to protect ourselves from pain and unwanted discomforts of growth. It is at this such gate that I recently realize the simple truth that many moments of my motherhood growing journey have been rooted in pushing, rather than opening. It happens often in a deep physical practice: the impulse to muscularly will, physically push yourself to the “other side” – you know a great opening is possible and in moments when you are taken to your knees with feelings of weakness, craziness or incapacity – you push through, rather than surrender and open – and then perhaps even dare to call it “strength.” Many of us do this kind of pushing not even for the sake of a great opening – but simply for the sake of “getting things done” or “getting to the next place.” It strikes me like a light bulb turned on in place I’ve never been; I catch a glimpse into a blind spot I’ve been living in.

And here is the next great opportunity of a spiritual practice that requires you to pay attention to the subtleties of your own experience: if you can stay with the complexity, a jewel of realization may emerge. It hits me that there is no strength in whittling away open currents of life force into exhausted collapse. I see so many women journeying this path and I hadn’t realized I’d joined the ranks. Surrendering into exhaustion can also entail a subtle (or not so subtle) shirk of profound responsibility. I am struck that a profound growing force in my life can also become the same means to fabricating an excuse to not further grow (think on this one: have any of you experienced this?). Said another way: for me, exhaustion coupled with the responsibility of motherhood has brought me to my knees in a way that crash coursed me into letting go of lifetimes of habits that don’t serve me while also gifting me with an impeccable opportunity to surrender into what is without resistance, and in the spirit of love – even when it doesn’t feel “good” and even when I feel as if I’ll fall apart. At the same time this growing edge I’ve been riding for two years can also stagnate me into shirking a responsibility for opening my body and my heart through consistent practice and self-care; (Why am I physically weaker than before? “I’m so tired.” Why won’t I practice today? “I’m so tired”). Yet with fewer inner resources and without an established structure of sustained openness through practicing, I end up further tiring myself from pushing from less authentic places. Reserves are thin and the undercurrent of awareness of participation in and with the Divine allows me to ride the waves of life with some amount of Grace, BUT, the subtle truth is that I’ve slowly been falling into the habit of “pushing through” rather than opening into Grace.

Why is this self-revelation important enough to share here? Because opening into Grace is a profound resource for all of us to relax into. Because these are times when too many of us are pushing too hard in our lives and losing connection to vital threads of practice rooted in paying close attention to detail and subtlety. Because to live as our best selves does not mean moving randomly through space and time and it certainly doesn’t mean sloughing off personal responsibility to succumb to the mass patterning of “I’m so tired and busy I can’t even deal with anything that is fundamentally important to myself anymore.” We can instead exchange a different kind of energy in the world. We can take care of ourselves by  surrendering into acknowledgement of what breathes us. We aren’t doing breath. Breath is doing each of us. Something greater than yourself is at work on you and will ultimately dissolve you in the end. Opening to this insight is profoundly liberating, albeit potentially unnerving at first. Opening into what is arising in any given moment means making oneself consistently available to wisdom, insight, being moved, stretched, worked on, yanked open, uncurled, unfurled…All we have to do is make ourselves available to transformation and grace. All we have to do is make ourselves available to mystery. And the doorway to this is through our own felt experience. This is opening rather than pushing. This is moving through our lives with a sense of flow and grace rather than resistance.

To live steeped in this awareness is a different kind of strength, and ultimately a feminine sort of strength, rooted more in the heart realm and less in the will and intellect realm. These are times where many of us are pushing rather than resting in a surrendered nourishment that does not hide or collapse, but gives outward from a place of relaxed understanding. These are times when shit has to get done and someone’s got to do it – and the key is to live each breath of the doing as if you weren’t doing it but as if it is doing you – whatever ‘it’ is for you. In this way we not only find a new kind of rest into what just is – we open ourselves to our interconnections with all life and light and we live more as our true nature, ever becoming clearer and less fettered – and more capable of the profound Love that the divine feminine force entails.

 

Practicality and Practice

As I move on the path of parenting and life’s daily routines, there always seems to be a pull between practicality and soul work, practicality and practice.  I’m invited to merge them into one.  It is no coincidence the words practicality and practice share a root.  The word practice as it is used today initially meant “to perform repeatedly to acquire a skill;” or “to perform, to work at, exercise.”  That the word has moved beyond just acquiring a skill to encompass spiritual practices, those gestures of living and embodiment aimed at practicing our most revered states, intrigues me as I ponder the similarity of the two words.   Digging deeper I find that practice does indeed stem from the Latin practicus (practical) and the Greek praktikos (what a surprise – practical again).  It was only as recently as 1906 that the word expanded to encompass reference to religions.

How wise those early pioneers of expanded definition of the word practice were.  For if we can’t apply our religious and spiritual inclinations to the daily practical tasks necessary for survival, there is a disconnect.  Not only is spiritual practice a continuation of exercising certain skills towards a type of mastery, yet also it is the opportunity to merge the utterly practical (some may say mundane) with a form of sacred practice – so that daily practicalities can also become opportunities for spiritual mastery.  We are invited to move throughout our days balancing the two so that each movement is a gesture of intention and rooted soulfulness surfacing in action – always awake and moving in a flow of understanding that everything merits full bodied and mindful practice…

What About Motherhood as a Spiritual Practice?

The reality settles in that motherhood as a spiritual art and practice has simply not gotten the air time it deserves.  I’ve been delving of late – looking for books, blogs, websites, wisdom traditions… And what of motherhood?  I keep asking.  Where is the plumbing the depths around the practice and act of mothering – which millions of us do and have done across time?  Of course there are outposts of acknowledgement… And yet perhaps only those of us who have done it understand the depths we are taken to as we peak and fall, particularly as first time mothers – facing our own internal limitations, facing our pasts, feeling into the legacy passed down from our own mothers, and choosing (or not) to do the hard inner work of staying present with the often uncomfortable edges our children surface in our days.  It is like being thrown into a great fire of internal cooking, with a constant temperature barometer present through my child.

Over and over again I am struck by the power I have as a mother.   How many mothers have abused this power over time?  And how could this be assuaged should we have the collective community and wisdom traditions acknowledging the feat it is to birth and raise a child?  Even better than acknowledgement, where are the direct spiritual teachings and transmissions that speak to the challenges we face day and night? Something plucks at me around how so many great spiritual masters and teachers are and have been men, and I find myself wryly turning up my lip as I move through my days with so much responsibility and so many moments to practice everything that has been handed to me through spiritual teachings – but none of those lessons directly implying that mothers are the perfect, ever-present students of spiritual art.

For me motherhood has shown itself as viable and relevant a spiritual practice and path as any other.  And what an amazing gift to have chosen this path and to have a constant responsibility to show up in the spirit of practice – a practice that does not rest, actually. There is no room for separation here.  I cannot remove myself from being a mother.  It is now a constant self-identity and and ever-present relationship.

Just as the word religion means to be bound to a path (from religiare) and the root word of ‘yoga’ comes from ‘yuj,’ to be yoked, as in yoked to a path as well as yoked to the Divine, I can also choose to live the path of motherhood as a sacred practice – a practice and path I am now solidly bound to and choose to walk with reverence, intention and mindfulness.

Too often daily responsibilities and particularly the responsibility of parenthood are perceptually divorced from the realm of ‘practice.’  Practice at its root is the practice of your most revered state.  Too often there is the notion that a siritual practice is primarily a yoga practice or prayer pracice or meditation practice – an that it lives separate from the rest of our lives.  Of course the invitation  is for the wisdom arising in  practice space to bleed into the rest of our lives… and so too with motherhood as a sacred practice.  We’re invited to step into a realm of inner world and clarifying for ourselves what our most revered states are – and what we most want to embody in this lifetime – and then, rise to this calling through literal ‘practice’ throughout the ‘ordinary’ moment of rest and responsibility in any given day.  So ‘practice’ becomes alive in every cell of our bodies and every moment in our days and in every interaction.  This is the path of embodiment and authenticity, when we are truly living and breathing our values and our love.  And when we understand that there is no separation between ‘life’ and ‘practice’ we can begin to walk into our days and relationships with more presence, more seamless awareness and a more clarified expression of what we most want to be radiating through our presence.

Too often our responsibility is taken too lightly (not to mention is undervalued in many instances as well). Rather, we can walk into the truly regal responsibility that is raising and caring for another human being with great integrity.  This does not mean that we are perfect.  It does mean we choose to do the work required of anyone on a critical spiritual path:  to practice, to show up fully in any given moment, to come back again and again to our best intentions, and to embrace humility in the face of life’s greatest moments of challenge and testing.

The Beauty of Being Tired

The beauty of being tired is that I don’t even know who I am anymore – like a boat being cut loose in a marsh, I strut around the house with a humor fueled by delerium. I am such a mess and I for the first time in my life feel my mess as a gesture of liberation rather than self-demise.

“The wires in my brain aren’t functioning properly,” I tell Chris, all along thinking I am “losing it” and thinking this is a “bad” thing.  Instead, No.  During a recent yoga practice my teacher asked “feel what part of you is the most open” and like a flash of lightening understanding I answered “the most exhausted part…”

Yes, with certainty, I can now feel that the most tired parts of myself are also the most open and available to transformation.  The differentiating factor:  having no resistance to the tiredness.  The differentiating factor:  letting go into the flow of exhaustion as if it were the finest gift of silk.  “Losing it” is actually what all spiritual masters have been instructing their pupils in for thousands of years.  Losing it equals losing your mind (aha!), losing attachments to egoic structures and habits (aha!) and maybe even losing social personality traits that are like tire skids or fingernails on a chalkboard in their ability to keep you stuck in restless habits that don’t move you where you most want to be.

Exhaustion presents an opportunity to lose the perfectionism and simply abide in what is – albeit even it is only because you’re too tired to do otherwise.  Exhaustion invites loosening of long-held karmic holdings in the body – simply by (literally, physically) wearing them out.

At first, I struggle to hold on to what I think I am in the midst of profound disorientation and frustration…And this is where motherhood busts beyond that holding pattern of “I am tired and I am just going to make all my bad habits worse because of it.”  Motherhood’s exhaustion is like the straw that breaks the camel’s back so to speak – It crumbles you into a million pieces of oblivion where up and down, 2am or 6pm don’t matter – and where Love is the only force of reality that can truly sustain any semblance of sanity.  So when Rowan is wanting milk every 45 minutes at 3am and I jump out of bed screaming “feeding hours are over!” and storm out of the room, rather than trip into a heap on the floor, I can instead take a breath and tap into love that anchors me back to bed.  Yes, a chosen practice, but also a background of grace that somehow dissolves my most irrational behaviors.

The gift of all this is that I can’t spin into self-absorption or even extended self-criticism or doubt.  After all, there’s no time for habits such as these.  Sleep, and the baby, calls.

Balancing Dedication to Home with Dedication to Practice

Balancing dedication to home with dedication to “practice” – and coming to the full understanding that this (home/motherhood) IS my practice.  There is no separation.  The invitation is to seamlessly flow from there to here- and to give myself the same texture of practice while carrying my son and caring for ‘home.’   Lessons to integrate:

  • Open the body with feeling – feel from the heart while moving through the day’s responsibilities.
  • Love from my hands and feet – let my practice of loving emanate.
  • My anxiety becomes my son’s.  Self-regulation is key.
  • Loose the self-perfectionism and judgement when not living up to standards of ‘perfect’ motherhood.  Instead, grow your nervous system by connecting with how much you care beyond yourself.  Feel into what surrounds you and grow compassion and spontaneous moment to moment giving away.
  • Remember generosity.  And, give away what you most need.
  • My care can be (IS) greater than my fears and self-preoccupations.  Don’t assume I’ll ever “get somewhere” or “let go” of something.  Instead, grow how much you care.  How much I care is never at stake – so deepen this in order to serve.
  • Service is the stream all mothers can flow in and with…
  • Finally, don’t close!  Come back again and again to wakefulness for the sake of service.  To be half given is worse than failing a million times.  It is better to fail than not to give, even if ‘imperfect.’  Just show up fully offered in every moment.

Practice is here, now, at home – no separation.  Motherhood is the greatest spiritual opportunity of a lifetime – to love and give when running on empty – this is the constant invitation.

Meaning of Parenthood

I remember the moments after my son was born.  I had fainted and when I woke again I had a foggy “so this is motherhood” revelation as I looked around the mess of the birth room to find my son’s face. I felt my part in a long line of women bringing new life into this world through a massive opening of the body, and a sense tat this moment was one of the most profound given to our species; Such a simple yet complex act:  the continued cycle of life, nine months of gestation, births happening hundreds of thousands times a day, and still:  the evolution and propagation of humanity landing in our arms, a gift so precious we often call it a miracle.

And yet, just like mothering, it is what we do over and over again throughout the world:  reproduce, give birth and raise our children in thousands of ways, giving rise to the diversity of human experience.  As mothers, we are given the opportunity to induct a meaningful human experience for our children.  Rather than reproducing only for the sake of reproducing, we can choose to parent in a way that is meaningful and not random.

Some of the meaning I have gleaned in the first months of my son’s life:

  • How remarkable it is to expand the sense of self to include another human being.  I am not just myself any longer, but a dyad moving in the world – my needs blending with his.
  • This expanded sense of self is not a fusing, but an expansion of compassion in that the ability to move beyond Self to Other grows.
  • This loving and giving is the greatest spiritual opportunity of a lifetime:  To love without growing tired, to give even when it feels like there is nothing left, to practice falling in love over and over again, even when the edges are sharp and the patience runs thin.
  • There is an opportunity to parent in a way that moves beyond ‘nurturing.’  Of course we nurture, or have the power to nurture – but more than that we literally give life and in this giving there is the potential to embody the spiritual potential of selflessness, of loving beyond the self.
  • We offer our children the first moments of emotional connectivity through eye contact and touch, through the vegal nerve which connects to the eyes and generates healthy nervous system capacity for compassion and empathy.
  • Children will bless you so much more than drain you when you can access and practice gratitude.