May 23, 2016 or The Day Before My Son Turned 9

I know the title of this post is just about eight months old. Earlier today, I was flipping through some journal entries from last year (how is 2016 “last year” already?!) and I came across this one I wrote on May 23. As usual, it’s been a while since I’ve posted on this blog. I’ve been quite busy creating “the free” I’ve written about in my postings over the years. There’s much I want to share and I keep saying I’m going to write a blog about my experiences, but that particular piece has yet to come to life. I’m going to keep it non-existent for now, because in time – and when the time is right – I will share the whole story of leaving my corporate job, plunging into teaching yoga full-time and making it my career, and everything else that’s happened in between. It hasn’t been an easy journey, but anything that’s worth it is never easy, right?

I’m going to write verbatim from my journal what I wrote on May 23, 2016. Perhaps it will resonate with some. Perhaps it won’t. I’m just following my spirit, which said to share this entry, so here it is:

My son’s last day of being 8. Reminding myself to be more present with him. Even though I am his sole present parent, I am still not always mindfully present. Rushing him to get to bed or a space where I can have quiet. Being on the phone (sometimes and necessary times are OK; but be more mindful). Often (not always) rushing out of his room for my time when he asks me to lay down with him for a few moments. Sometimes I am tired and hungry. Most times, I can make the time.

Yes, it does feel like a lot as the only parent caring for my son. (The story about his dad will be shared in the aforementioned blog posting). But I can’t let the anger and frustration of that define me anymore. I have to still do what I think or feel I would do if I was in a supportive and loving relationship or co-parent relationship. I think I’d have more ease if I had more support. I have to find and be the ease without the support.

One day my son will grow and not be the same sweet little boy he is now and I need to cherish each and every moment. Especially since he is my only one I have right now.

My strength will become his strength. My confidence his confidence. My love and peace his love and peace. Living my life purposefully so he will always be aware of the choices he wants to make to live his own life of purpose. Focus more on what is and less on what isn’t. Don’t focus on what isn’t at all. Live in gratitude for what we have and wait with open arms and an open heart for all the joy that is coming.

And it ends there. Maybe there was a message in that for someone. Or maybe this was just a reminder for myself.

Namaste.


Serenity Now…

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; Courage to change those things I can; And wisdom to know the difference.”

I’ve heard of and read the Serenity Prayer many times in my life. As one who can have a tendency to be anxious and worrisome, my dad has often said to me, “Rachel, remember what the Serenity Prayer says. Only focus on what you can change.” He’d ask me if I really understood what it meant and I would answer affirmatively because in theory, I did understand it. But as I spent a few moments in quiet reflection in front of my meditation altar this morning, the words really hit me. I have my beloved Grandmother Ruby’s framed copy of the Serenity Prayer in the center of my altar. She passed away seven years ago, and of all her possessions, this was one of the things I really wanted. I remember exactly where she hung it in her bedroom. She lived to be 101 years-old, and I imagine that the Serenity Prayer played a key role in her living such a long and fulfilling life. I look at the words every day, but this morning I felt them sink in and touch a place deep in my spirit. I read the words over and over to myself until I was brought to tears. In my mind’s eye, I saw a parenthesis behind “cannot change” that included the word, “people.” I saw another parenthesis behind “those things I can” that included the word, “me.” I already knew that we cannot change people, but sometimes there can be a gap between what we know and really making an attempt to apply the concept to our lives. I acknowledge there is a gap within me.

I came to my meditation altar this morning heavily contemplating a certain relationship in my life. This person has been in my world for 15 years and as such, there have been plenty of ups and downs. We were friends, we were married and we now share custody of a beautiful 7 year-old little boy. I’m only one child in, but my experience so far has shown me that co-parenting can be one of the toughest relationships to navigate. I often find myself challenged by the way I do things as a parent vs. the way my ex-husband does things. Like my knowledge of the Serenity Prayer in theory, I have been aware that I can place high expectations on my ex-husband, but it wasn’t until this morning that I allowed myself to feel it. As I read the words over and over, I fully acknowledged that I can’t change him. I can’t make him be the parent or person I think he should be. I can only change myself and how I allow our relationship to affect me. I see clearly now why my dad always said that my life would be so much easier if I truly lived with the Serenity Prayer as my guiding principle.

As I went into meditation, my mind being what it is had a million thoughts running through it. I’ve learned that as thoughts arise in meditation, we should acknowledge them and then simply let them go. Yet one thought in particular just kept popping up. And oddly enough, it was a thought about a phone cord on the telephone I use at work. Strange, I know. But instead of trying to force the thought out of my mind, I allowed it to pass through. Once it did, it made total sense.

When my company moved offices a few years ago, we received new telephones. Over time, the cord on the phone I’d gotten became tangled and gnarled. It was a pesky little annoyance, because it prevented my phone from hanging up properly on the receiver. At times, I’d try to untangle it but then would become frustrated and just left it as it was. The company eventually moved offices again and the tangled cord came with me. We moved from a space where I had my own office, to a location where many of the employees, myself included, were collapsed into an open workspace. “Cubicle World,” as many of us call it. As such, a co-worker who has become a good friend was stationed behind me and had a bird’s-eye view of my telephone cord. She saw me fussing with it a few months back and asked if I ever put in a request to have it changed. When I told her I hadn’t, she said, “Here, let’s try something,” and she proceeded to go to another workspace that wasn’t being used, took the handle off a phone with a perfectly fine cord and replaced my handle with the new one. Then laughing she said, “See? Isn’t that better?” We shared a few jokes about it and moved on. What I didn’t realize at the time was how profound that gesture was.

By allowing the thought of the phone with the tangled cord to pass through my mind during meditation this morning, it landed with an eye-opening realization for me. Just as I replaced the handle with the tangled cord, I can apply the same concept to relationships in my life that have become tangled or convoluted. I can either keep fussing with trying to detangle things, or I can simply stop and replace the frustration with an untangled state of mind. Replacing the telephone cord on my relationships, if you will. It can be as simple as it was when my co-worker/friend replaced the handle and cord on my phone at work.

When I came out of meditation with that thought in mind, I read today’s reflection from “The Book of Awakening” by Mark Nepo. It’s about allowing to come to surface all of what’s growing underneath the “stuff” that we’ve always known, been or done. We have to learn to let the old skin shed so a new and refreshed approach to life can make its way through. In Nepo’s words, “Little deaths prevent big deaths.” I do understand that. And not just in theory. Peeling back layers, acknowledging our egos and admitting to ourselves that perhaps we are not always right is not an easy thing. It’s downright vulnerable and scary. But it’s so necessary if we are to move into higher levels of consciousness and bring ease into the journey of our daily lives.

It was after my meditation and reading Nepo’s reflection, that my eyes fell on my Grandmother’s framed Serenity Prayer. Then I looked at her picture that’s just off to the side of it, and I said out loud to her, “I’m trying, Grandmother.” I can only hope to be as wise as she was.

Wisdom is best derived from experience. I cannot change my past or the decisions that led me to where I am today. I cannot change the people in my life who I love or who I’m tied to by circumstance. But I can make the choice to have a more peaceful coexistence with it all from here on out. I now better understand the difference.

Namaste.

photo


“Never Knowing Where We Fly”

Birds flyingI just returned home from a four-day business trip. Due to the nature of my job, I often return from my trips late at night and find myself completely exhausted the next day. I didn’t get home from this particular trip until close to Midnight and so, today is one of those days. Except that I’m more mentally exhausted than anything. Through a conversation with a friend, and with myself, I came to the realization that I’d expended a lot of mental energy this week focusing on things I strongly desire to change, but that I really have no control over. I found that I did my fair share of fussing about being ready to move on from my job and wanting progress in certain relationships in my life. It was one of those moments that you don’t really see until you step outside of it. And it wasn’t until I was in the quiet of my own car driving back from the airport, and back in the quiet of my home, that I was able to see how truly busy my mind had been this week.

After allowing myself time to sleep in this morning, I immediately went to put on some of my quiet meditation music and picked up Mark Nepo’s “The Book of Awakening,” a gem that found its way into my life last summer. It is a book of daily reflections that I try to read every morning before starting my day. I’d forgotten to bring it with me on my trip, so I went back and read all of the days I missed. Every passage, from March 19 until today, spoke to exactly where my mind was this week. In one of his reflections, Nepo offered a meditation that guided me to pulling out a picture of myself as a little girl. I really looked at the picture and began to feel a world of emotions. That little girl had so many wonders and dreams of the world. That little girl looks so happy in her eyes. That little girl was carefree. Then I looked at myself in the reflection of the blank computer screen and I asked myself where did that little girl go. I thought of all the life experiences I’ve had since that picture and I acknowledged how they have all shaped me, changed me and moved me away from who that little girl was. But I had an “aha” moment as well. I can return to the child-like me. The one who was fearless and wide-eyed and ready to try new things. We can’t always control what will or won’t be in our lives, but we can control not losing sight of who we are.

Nepo’s reflection from today, March 23, beautifully captures this understanding:

Never Knowing Where We Fly

“Birds learn how to fly, never knowing where flight will take them.”

“There is a deep and humbling lesson in the way of birds. Their wings grow and stretch and span patches of air. First tentatively and then with confidence, they lift, they pump, they glide, they land. It seems, for birds, it is the act of flying that is the goal. True, they migrate and seek out food, but when flying, there is the sense that being aloft is their true destination.

Unlike birds, we confuse our time on Earth, again and again, with obsessions of where we are going – often to the point that we frustrate and stall our human ability to fly. We frequently tame and hush our need to love, to learn, to know the truth of spirit, until we can be assured that our efforts will take us somewhere. All these conditions and hesitations and yes-buts and what ifs turn the human journey upside down, never letting the heart, wing that it is, truly unfold.

Yet, without consideration or reservation, it is simply the presence of light that stirs birds to sing and lift. They do not understand concepts such as holding back or truly investing if the return seems certain. In this, we are the only creatures that seek out guarantees, and in so doing, we snuff the spark that is discovery.

Just how often do we cripple ourselves by not letting love with all its risks teach us how to fly? How many times do our hearts stall because we won’t let the wingspan of our passion open us fully to our gifts? How frequently do we search for a song of guidance that can only come from inside us?

I know that over the years, through fear and expectation, my mind has gathered and hoarded places I needed to go, things I needed to have, selves I needed to be. But here I am, without most of them – the goals and wants all used up in learning how to love.

So, try as I do to imagine and construct where I am headed, try as I will to plan and know what this life of feeling means, it is the pulse of what I feel itself that lifts me into spirit. In truth, wings don’t grow any differently to fit south or east or west, and our lives, no matter how we train ourselves, are more fundamental than any direction of worldly ambition. We, like the birds, are meant to fly and sing – that’s all – and all our plans and schemes are twigs of nest that, once outgrown, we leave.”

Let us always remember the song within us. And never forget to fly.

Namaste.

 


The Five-Year Journey (And Counting…)

At exactly 6:40 AM today, my son officially turned 5 years-old. Being his mom has been nothing short of an adventure. When I was pregnant with him, I never worried about the pain of labor and delivery. I braced my mind with the thought of “just get through it.” I was more afraid about what would happen once he was placed in my arms. Would I be a good mom? Would I know what to do? Would I be able to fully uphold the responsibility of this blessing? There really was no turning back. But arrive he did, and I’ve been figuring it all out every day since.

Motherhood has been quite the journey; single motherhood more so. My son and I became a team when he was only a year old and raising him almost single-handedly has been no easy feat. However, I am thankful that I was chosen to be his life vessel. I am probably learning more from him than he is learning from me. My son is a sweet, loving, compassionate, funny, inquisitive, stubborn, hard-headed, strong-willed, beautiful young child who is already a die-hard fan of Michael Jackson. Since his arrival during that early morning of May 24, 2007, life has been interesting to say the least.

When he was born, 5 years-old seemed so far away. But here it is. I thank God. And I pray for many more happy years. Mommy loves you. ♥