I wrote this blog post on Vera's first birthday, and somehow it got logged with my drafts and never got published. Now I happened to come upon it on the exact anniversary of her being 18 months (or for you non-baby talk readers a year and a half). These words touched my heart to remember the place I was in just six short months ago. We are in quite a different place now, though that is for a different post. She continues to amaze me daily, and I'm so excited to share more soon! :
Today is my kiddo's first birthday. She's pretty amazing. Right on time - she's started taking her first few tottering steps and she lovingly says "mama", which melts my heart every time. It's kind of amazing to think just how fast this year has gone by.
When she was bon, she was very little - 5lbs 11ozs, and on oxygen for 5 never ending weeks. She had literally no fat on her, her skin hung on her skeleton. Now she's on the verge of walking and says "mama". It's pretty wild to watch a little human grow. To experience how they are born this blank slate (though not without anything at all...) and as they encounter new things, and begin to integrate experiences, they begin to shape their world. It's wild to watch her begin to become best friends with the dogs and share mischievous looks with them as she sneakily passes them food behind her back at the table. When, what seems like last week, though it was nearly a year ago, she wasn't even sitting up, much less eating at the table or acknowledging the dogs. I thought, in the midst of the long nights of nursing on demand, of praying to get the oxygen tubes out of her nose, of wondering if she was ever going to put a little weight on, that the hardness would last forever. And I guess in a way it does - it changes, but that particular hardness of very newborns is long forgotten. Her infectious smile and giggle have seen to that. When she holds out her hand with whatever I've just given her, to share it with me, I wonder if this child will change the world with her generosity.
I made a human being. One that is amazing. And this day - the day that commemorates her coming into this world to share her life with me is now my most favorite day. I love you Vera, and honor our relationship so much! Happy Birthday, my sweet girl!!
I was teaching a yoga class the other day. The name of the class is Hot Flow. Up until I took over this time slot a few weeks ago it was called Hot Power Flow. What about that isn't intimidating?? Not that I'm trying to intimidate people; in fact quite the contrary is true. I try to make people feel comfortable, at ease and in a friendly mood to practice yoga together in such a way that we stop judging and comparing ourselves and just get embodied already! Now, that isn't to say that this class is easy, but I don't make it excessively hard or show off, I just present a challenging sequence for people to come together, work hard, commit to their practice, their concentration, their focus and intention. I consider it my role to create a setting where we can feel truly like the channels; the conduits and containers for this ever changing and flowing life force that we call prana in Sanskrit to flow through us and simultaneously take us away with it's epic tidal wave, and also to bring us home to our breath and bodies. Ok, so enough with the esoteric yoga talk...apparently I'm on a tangent of setting the stage for you.
This particular class doesn't have a level associated with it. At least not on paper nor in the google machine. In my mind this is a solid level 2 class. So I suppose I should've anticipated some beginners to join in the fun at some point. And Murphy's Law never disappoints. And it is always an amazing reminder of beginner's mind...this mixed level class conundrum. And a humbling one at that, as I realize that the true qualities that I associate with beginner's mind - I still have, and quite unconsciously too. So let's now talk about Beginner's Mind.
There was a time in my practice where it seemed like out of every one of my teacher's mouths came the words "put yourself back in Beginner's Mind!" (The exclamation point is necessary, because this was always an imperative and not a suggestion). And it was always well received. I always tried to remember that open, curious, spacious quality of knowing absolutely nothing about this practice and making my mind open and spongy to receive whatever messages my teachers, my mind and body had to give. It was a lovely reminder.
That is not the beginner's mind I'm talking about now.
There's also a not-quite-beginner-anymore-but-not-too-far-into-this-practice mind that is super dangerous. And that is definitely the one I'm talking about. The mindset that says, "Hey, I've seen this shape before! Even though my mind isn't comprehending right now the process to get into it in an integrated and safe way, I'm gonna approximate it based on what I see around me anyway!" And here my friends, we exit onto the Highway to the Danger Zone. Cue sexy, bad boy Tom Cruise, before he got all culty on us. This smarty-pants-beginner's-mind is the one that ignores the warnings of the teacher when she says - "if getting here is not quite what your body or practice is ready for today, please back off to a variation of this pose that has previously been shown, that is still challenging but makes sense to both your body and mind". But oh, no...what does this particular bit of ego do with this warning....uhh - throw it out the window as the car hurtles down the highway to the danger zone. This aspect of beginner's mind is especially pernicious, because it makes us compare ourselves to others, despite how we actually feel in our own bodies. It's the little devil on our shoulder that says "hey, I know you're tired, shaking and so slippery because you're sweating profusely but everyone else is doing that third really deep backbend, so you should really try too". No, no, no, no NO! No you should not. You should listen with care, kindness and love to your body. This is what "advancing" in yoga looks like to me. Not how steady your handstand is. That is only a measure of how much time you've given a pose. Just like that, though, how steady your mind is, is a measure of how much time you've given it. And it shows.
So, when we check in with our ego every time we are hearing this little devil on our shoulder, and choose kindness instead of competition, when we are so embodied that the flow rocks our world and we notice nothing but our breath, movement and mind aligned in a oneness that is God her-gracious-and-mighty-self rocking our practice - this is the off ramp. This choice of kindness is the choice of a mature yoga practice. And may we all come to this place - because, at least the few times I've experienced it, it sure is a glorious relief to let go of the self-judgment, and dive into the compassion that yoga practice teaches us at it's heart.
Go forth and enjoy your practice yogis! Stop comparing yourself to someone else and chill out. It'll take you leaps and bounds further towards being an "advanced" yogi than a killer arm balance practice!
With infinite love - A
My sweet baby turned 10 months old today. It's pretty amazing how the time flies. I mean, everybody tells you that as you get older time seems to whiz by faster and faster, and I kind of got it before, but now that I have a child, this strange re-interpretation of time has taken on a whole new meaning. So anyway, to commemorate her 10 month-long life earthside, I put a sweet sticker on her shirt this morning with a little hot air balloon on it announcing to the world that she's now 10 months old. I snapped a picture of her and we sped off to daycare.
When we got there, I took off her jacket and set her down to play. As I was talking with our day care provider about details of her diet and what not, I noticed that she was crinkling up the shirt and sticker and off-handedly made a comment about how maybe a tighter shirt would have kept the sticker intact a little longer. Right away, an older girl came over to Vera as I mentioned the sticker, and promptly peeled it right off of her shirt and threw it away in the garbage can. I almost lost it. I curtly told our day care provider what happened and left as I was so angry and hurt that I was starting to tear up. And also, I didn't want to lose it on someone else's child. I just kept thinking to myself that that was such a mean thing to do. Now, I can't be sure this girl's intention was mean-spirited. I mean, she's older than Vera, but she's still a very little girl. But at the time I interpreted it as mean. And of course Vera could not care less, in fact I don't even think she really knew what happened, and as soon as the sticker was gone, I think she forgot it was ever there. It was my way of celebrating her, and nothing that she could identify with at this age.
So, this now brings up two very interesting problems for mommy to begin addressing within herself:
A.) How am I going to react and handle situations where someone else treats my child in a way that I deem to be mean, hurtful or in any other way wrong.
B.) Why did I even take something so personally, when my kid didn't even care? How much stuff am I constantly projecting on to her? Can I catch myself before I project said emotions/reactions on to her, and let her develop her own way of being in the world?
As far as how I am going to handle situations in the future where I think my child has been done wrong - I guess that must be a circumstantial answer. If it is something like another child hit her or hurt her, I imagine I will say something to that child. Now, the amount of grace I can bring to that interaction will depend on how much I've been meditating lately, how hurt my child really is, how contrite the other party seems to be, and how much of an impact I think I may be able to have on this child's future aggressiveness...I hope. I hope that I don't just fly off the handle as I was on the verge of doing today. It was my sense of social awkwardness in front of our day care provider at the thought of getting upset with someone else's child over something so petty, that kept me together until I got to the car. It feels decidedly childish to admit this in such a public forum, but it is unmistakably the truth. As I sit here considering the Great Sticker Debacle of 2014 I realize that the only thing that kept me from telling that little girl just how mean I thought she was was that our day care lady would think me a petty person, a horrible mother, and kick us out of her practice. ...Wow, that stings a little.
Now, if the circumstance in which I believe my child to have been done wrong is less offensive, like for instance, someone takes something from her (and let's say, as she gets older, she may care a little bit - though I am holding my breath, in hopes that she will always be as non-committal as she is now to "her stuff" and never really care if someone wants to play with a toy she has or use her things) I think I need to learn to be a little less affected. I mean, really, to think that after the years I've put into meditation and working on being less attached to things, the stark realization that a little girl taking my daughter's sticker got my goat so bad is a rough one to process.
Which leads me into the second issue that I need to work through - How can I begin keeping my stuff as my stuff and not putting it on my wide open, un-conceptualized, innocent little girl? The funny thing is that that moment that that other girl peeled the sticker off, walked over to the trash can and threw it away occurred to me in slow motion, much like the worst car accident I have ever been in, when the spinning of my car and flipping over happened so slow and so fast at the same time, that internally I had time to process what was going on, that I may actually lose my life, and also that I could do nothing to prevent it because it was happening so fast in actuality. That slow/fast thing about time and participating in the present moment is maybe, actually, could it be?...a testament to all of the mindfulness work that I HAVE done, and that I could see what was happening, understand that I cannot know another person's mind (the other little girl - or my little girl's either for that matter) and leave the thing alone to be processed by the parties involved and NOT, in fact "put my stuff on her".
The fact that I took it so personally, I think does show a bit of over-attachment to my kiddo, and something I hope to tether as I watch her growing independence. Her life is, in the end hers, and my connection to it, a lucky happenstance that I couldn't possibly be more grateful to the universe for - but I cannot create her personality; her reactions must reflect how she chooses to interact with the world. So, though I may still need to do a lifetime's (or a few lifetimes) worth of work on lessening my attachment to stuff, to my kid, to this blessed life that I get to live, a big part of that work now must reflect a desire to keep my stuff as the work of MY life, and not expect other people like my daughter, sharing my attachments to lessen the burden of that work for me. In fact it would just muck up their life worse, and we all have our own muck to wade through before we bloom into our lotus. So here and now, I embark on this journey to consciously keep my child's eyes as clear as I can - as unclouded by mom's stuff as I can, and let her find her own work.
I love you, little munchkin! Happy 10 months.
I recently read a blog post that really challenged how I view my yoga practice. This writer was positing that "fancy" yoga poses like handstands and arm balances are unnecessary in a practice and that the meat of the practice is in basic yoga . And if you get interested enough, you don't need to keep working yourself up for these really hard poses, when there is plenty of good work to be done in Warrior 1, or Bridge pose. That as a practitioner ages, their practice becomes more "boring". Yes, I totally agree. And I totally disagree.
She is 34 (ancient). I am 35, and have been practicing since 1998ish, so about fifteen years or so. I don't know if this puts me in the ancient category or if I've had enough practice to where I get to make my practice boring again yet, but I do not connect with her sentiment about coming back to a super pared down practice out of interest. Don't get me wrong, I am not uninterested in Warrior 1 or Bridge pose. These are my home base. This is where I begin and end my practice and find myself home. But one thing that has resonated with me over the years from my Buddhist meditation experience is the principle of equanimity. That is, treating your enemy as you would your friend. Not discriminating between attraction and aversion, as they are two sides of the same coin. And I try to apply this to my yoga practice as well. I do the poses that I don't like as much, and ones that I haven't mastered yet in a balanced way with the ones that have been in my asana toolbox since the beginning. They are the same. Discriminating one from the other is a nod to the ego as much as watching oneself do handstands in the mirror is. Lets get real about why we avoid certain poses. If I have been practicing Pavritta Bakasana, or Side Crow for years, just haven't gotten that pesky fulcrum point down yet, and can't hold it worth a shit, I may back away from incorporating it into my daily practice because it makes me feel inept. Ok, but does that mean that it wasn't helping me to be humbled by this pose every damn day? Absolutely not. This is as much a part of the practice as flowing confidently between poses that I love. It teaches me discipline, dedication, right effort, and concentration, humility and letting go. All valuable lessons, I'd say.
Take Handstand for example. We play a game of cat and mouse that is most intriguing. Most of the time she evades me quite effectively, maybe letting me caress her for a brief moment or two. Now and again my passion and hunger for her has lit me up so bright that I must find her and we embrace for a ferocious tryst . Our encounters have become longer and longer, by seconds not by minutes. And when we meet, it's like looking into the present moment so completely that I am left breathless. She hides, I seek. This is how we play. She has beguiled me, and I am too interested to turn away. Her wish is my command. This is deeper than ego. This is Rumi poem. And my tenacious pursuit enlivens my practice, makes me beyond interested; it brings me to the edge of the cliff, and every time, I dive...
Diving into that mystery is yoga.
Of course there is mystery in poses we've practiced for years. The fact that I could've done Warrior 1 for fifteen years and that there is still something unknown in it is, I think, this author's point. I completely agree.
That we should scrap all advanced poses in search of the mystery only in a basic practice...I completely disagree.
I have to choose to not discriminate what I love and what makes me feel like a bumbling clown. I have to feel both confident and humbled, in the course of one practice. In each practice. This is how yoga helps me uncover myself, and peel away the layers of pretense. The way this practice lifts me up and keeps me grounded all at the same time are a testament to it's enormity and inclusion of all types of practitioners. Lets give it the same respect.
When I was pregnant I was pretty self-righteous about how I hoped the birth of my child would go. I tried not to judge how others wanted or had experienced the birth of their own children, but I was pretty solid on wanting no drugs and no surgery unless the baby or I was in dire circumstances. Well, most of what I wanted got thrown out the window pretty quickly as I never really went into labor after my water broke. But I was, thankfully, able to avoid surgery to bring my sweet babe earthside. My OB knew my intention, and God bless him, tried his hardest to make my birth experience as close to what I wanted as he could. There was another doctor though. One who is a part of this practice whom I had dreaded during my whole pregnancy, and who happened to be on-call at the hospital during most of my labor and delivery. I had heard stories, that to me were horrific of her jumping to Cesarian quickly and unnecessarily, about her blunt comments to mamas about how much weight they'd gained during pregnancy, and even worse. I was terrified of her. I assumed that she was a cold, calculating surgeon, dazzled by the money that big business hospital work can bring. And I was told that she was on-call and that my OB had to go to his other office for a few crucial hours at the most intensely frightening apex of my labor. Well, this just sent me into a freak-out frenzy of "I don't want her!", "I don't want a Cesarian!", "Please don't let her cut me!". I was like a terrified, wild animal backed into a corner.
After a crazy half-hour or so, I got an epidural, and of course chilled the f out real quick. I was able to sleep, relax, dilate and push Vera out all by my little lonesome. (Well, with the help of my husband, doula and amazing nursing team.) And later that night, when V was sleeping in her Plexiglas bassinet, this doctor that I was so scared of came in to check on me. She was incredibly sweet and warm, while maintaining a professional neutrality (probably fuelled by the fact that she thought I hated her). I was immediately humbled by her demeanor in the face of my arrogance.
And the most interesting thing has happened since. Vera is now 8 months old, and for about three or four months I've been teaching yoga back at a studio where I was teaching before the baby came, but on a different day and time. And this doctor comes to my yoga class. And she seems so shy and sweet.
This may be complete hooey, but I think there's a lot you can tell about a person when, without words, you practice yoga next to them, (or even better - observe their practice from the standpoint of a teacher) weekly. Yoga brings out the truth within us. It unmasks us and lets us explore our vulnerability, our flaws, our victories and our grace. And, I must admit, I really like the doctor's energy. I was wrong to prejudge. Now, in the context of me having what is undeniably the most physically intense, emotionally and spiritually transformational experience of my life, where in fact my life was on the line, I may have been right to trust my instincts...who knows? It went down the way it did. But, now that there is some distance between that event and the person I am now, and the yoga teacher I am, claiming to value truth, integrity, non-judgment and grace, I see just what a hypocrite I am. I can't speak to how much of a hypocrite she may think I am, as I know that if I can't connect with a yoga teacher, I stop going to their class, and she keeps coming back (much to my pleasure and astonishment), so maybe she's forgiven me, and understood that when a mother is giving birth, she is in her most primal space and will do anything to protect her child and process. Indeed, she's been around a lot more mothers giving birth than I, and I only have my own experience to draw upon. But the fact that she keeps coming back is so impressive to me. It speaks volumes about her ability to forgive and apply non-judgment, and truly embody what I myself espouse. What a lovely human being. And a lovely, hard, ugly truth it is revealing to me. Thank the lord for teachers that make you stop in your tracks and re-evaluate the human being you are.
We've now had about 8 or so classes together, and the shame has been building in me since I first put it together who she was. Now I feel like it is imperative for me to confront this with her and let her know how much I admire her. I think without our shared yoga experience I never would have come to this, never would have needed to apologize, never needed to forgive myself for treating someone the exact way that I encourage my students not to. What a blessing mindfulness and insight are. Looking into oneself, acknowledging where we lack and then choosing to live up to our potential is the best part of the human experience in my opinion. I humbly bow to the wisdom of insight.
Big love to you spiritual seekers, to you inward divers, to you human beings!
Sometimes I think that despite all of the technological wonders of our modern world, and all of our conveniences, it might actually be harder to parent these days than in my parent's day (or longer ago). We have such access to information, opinions, forums, blogs, etc., that for every idea you have you can get 1,001 ideas on ways to do it, and an equal amount of criticisms as to why not to do it. It's enough to make you a little crazy in the head.
I, for one, was open to both attachment parenting ideas and also cry-it-out, child independence ideas during my pregnancy. I'm so glad that I was, because now that my baby is here, as most parent's might identify with, we have a very fly-by-the-seat-of our-pants outlook on things. As soon as the baby starts fussing, I go into an extremely present and attuned (most of the time) state of trying to really listen to what she needs and to be creative about how to keep her happy and entertained. (She's only 4 months - I doubt whole days will be spent trying to entertain an elementary school aged child!) But for now, my whole world is this sweet babe, who's whole world is me and dad. And it's pretty cool. We spend hours talking to each other, though her words are just sounds, we come to understandings together.
I've read so many blogs about how to sleep train, what cloth diapers are best, when to start making your own baby food, and how to stimulate a tiny infant, that I've realized now that there's no way to really do it all. Plus my kiddo might not want it all. Maybe she's simpler than all that. Maybe all I have to do is listen to her, and pay attention...and maybe there's no REAL right or wrong, but all a grey scale of options.
This whole experience has really shaken my sense of order, and need for control. It is very hard to control an infant's needs. And very easy to feel as though if you don't respond in the way you learned from a book to their needs, that you're doing it wrong. But what if the way of the book makes your child cry, and something-off-the wall and off-the-cuff makes them giggle and squeal? What to do then? Maybe then it's time to stop letting your expectations make you feel bad. Because it's not the book, or the author that makes me feel bad. Nor does it have to do with what the actual techniques are that I thought I wanted to implement. It's the fact that I had an expectation at all. It has something to do with all the reading of others' opinions that I spend her naptimes doing, that I allow to create these expectations of perfect parenting in myself. I read once that before our information age, if your child made it to adulthood *at all*, you did it right, and parents didn't have time to second guess their parenting style or compare their kids charter school to their neighbor's private school. If they made it at all, you were a success! I want to go back to that standard.
I'm still going to read lots of blogs, because I can't stop, but I'm going to be less attached to their opinions, and try to think of all of us parents as brothers and sisters on this magical journey that can take infinite shapes. There is no point to compare, because all of our kids are different and our families and circumstances are unique. My shape might be different than yours. And there is so much to learn from that.
I write a lot about being present, about ways to achieve presence, and the importance of not mulling over the past, which we cannot change and trying not to anticipate the future, which we have no idea what it will bring. But if you want a crash course in being present, in letting go of your agenda and being fully invested in the present moment, have a child. Or take care of an infant for a day, or even a few hours. It's revolutionary. I can start writing a blog, washing clothes, dishes, myself, or basically doing anything, then as soon as that little baby wail pierces my ears, it's over. As is anything else that I may have wanted to get done in the next hour. And as frustrating as that can be, it's also an amazing lesson.
You see, there are not too many things that I know, but one thing that I knew would be true before it happened was my baby's capacity to be my teacher. She teaches me every day, all day long to pay attention. And every time my mind strays, she reminds me.
Maybe because she was born really little, and had to be on oxygen for the first 5 weeks of her life, she was a little crankier than some of those mythical, super-easy babies that people speak of. It's not that she's particularly fussy, or colicky, she just knows that I tend to get mentally "busy" and need gentle or not-so-gentle reminders to notice this moment. And she's more than happy to oblige.
It's not as quiet as meditating, and it doesn't get me in the shape that yoga does, but it's equally, if not more effective. And not only effective, but joyful and satisfying. When I lock eyes with my baby and hold that innocent, open and spacious gaze with my child, it's transformative. It's like I can see her potential - to learn and grow and understand concepts and emotions and what life is, as much as any of us do. There is extreme wisdom behind those eyes. The wisdom of not knowing or posturing that she knows anything. A true open book. And it's lovely.
It will be a joy to stand by her and watch as she shapes her world.
I wanted an all-natural birth. Oh, I wanted it so bad I could taste it. I felt that all the yoga and meditation that I did would certainly help prepare my body and mind for the marathon of giving birth with no interventions. I had a birth plan that my husband and I painstakingly fussed over, that we were confident would serve as a guide for the birth of our daughter. Then my water broke. Then I didn't go into labor.
Once your water breaks they kind of like for you to start having some contractions eventually. And it's kind of intense on the baby to experience the contracting of the uterus around her without the cusion of the amniotic fluid. It felt kind of selfish of me to insist on doing that to my child. I don't know...everyone's different, but when my OB said that he wanted to begin gently inducing my labor 15 hours after my water broke and I was only 1cm dilated, with no real contractions to speak of, I agreed that yes it did sound like the best thing for my baby.
For many people Cervidil is pretty mild. Many people can sleep with it inside of them. Maybe because my water had already broken, the Cervidil rocked my world. The contractions came one after another with no break, and were super intense after not really having anything worse than a dull menstrual cramp of a contraction. It was so strong that it started to affect the baby, whose heart rate dropped suddenly because she wasn't getting any oxygen during those crazy contractions. They ripped the Cervidil out with no delay. That was a scary way to begin active labor. But after that, my body started contracting on it's own, thank God, and we went the rest of the night seeing how far my body would go unassisted. That was pretty cool. My husband and I bonded pretty hard that night. We watched the snow cats silently creep up and down Born Free and we rocked and swayed and breathed together. We both really fondly remember that night.
When the doctor checked me in the morning - this is more than 24 hours after my water had broken, I was only at 2cm dilated. Progress, but still for the baby, it could be better. He said he wanted to use Pitocin. I had previously been teriffied of Pitocin, and felt that this was a clear step toward a Cesarian birth. But when he suggested it, to my surprise I agreed with no protest. Not because I was intimidated of my doctor, but because I was thinking of my tiny baby inside of me getting rocked with every contraction for 24 hours. I felt that it was time for her to have a rest. So they began the drip. At first it wasn't so bad and I could still experiment with different positions, up against the wall, on all fours, sitting on the birthing ball. But quickly the sensation excalated, and I could hardly think or even see straight during contractions that were coming closer and closer together.
I begged for the epidural. And I didn't then, nor do I in retrospect feel let-down or in any way dissapointed in my choice. It was the right thing for my labor.
What needed to happen and what wasn't happening was me relaxing. Despite all the yoga, meditation, visualization and preparation that I had done up until that point, I couldn't let go. I could not surrender. There's a reason I have that word tattooed on my foot. 'Cause I need to be reminded to do it frequently, and even then I'm not all that proficient at it.
Once the anesthesiologist, that blessed man, administered the epidural I was able to relax. I even slept a bit. I dilated from 2 to 9.5cm in about 2 hours. Asleep. I just needed to relax and I couldn't do it actively. It's a real mind fuck. But in my sleep, my body's wisdom took over and did what I couldn't will it to do in over 24 hours prior.
When it came time to push, I was a bit more rested, I was fresh and thanks to the epidural, I felt strong and ready. It was actually kind of fun for the first, oh let's say, hour and a half. Then shit got so real, and I felt like I hadn't ever had that epidural. What epidural? I wanted to crawl up the wall with pain. I wanted to take the whole amazing nine months of pregnancy back and reverse time so that I would never have gotten to this God-forsaken place of unbearable pain. I wondered silently, while my mouth was screaming, how other women had done this - assisted or naturally. That really blows my mind. When those final few pushes were on deck, and it was go time, and I had to push this baby out, it was other-worldly. There are no words to describe the sensations, the rawness, the quite unfathomable fullness and the blinding fear that accompanied the delivery of my tiny 5lb 11oz little girl. It was no joke.
And then magically, she was here. There was a moment's pause by the pediatrician and nurses about her color and breathing, which scared me more than any of the pain of the labor could ever have, as I already loved her beyond measure and was so invested in her wellbeing that I couldn't concentrate with the doctor about the placenta or the end of my delivery. I was absorbed in the goings-on over at the "baby table". But in the end, they gave her to me, and my complete overwhelm at the last almost 34 hours overtook me and I sobbed like a baby. It took away any potential guilt or dissapointment at the gap between what I had originally wanted for the birth, and what had transpired. The giant love for this tiny creature that exploded in my heart wiped the slate clean and gave me a precious moment's insight into really surrendering. Surrendering my need for control, and to know how things will happen before they do. Surrendering my need to cushion scariness with information and "preparedness". Sometimes you have to dive into the scariness, and it's not some cute yoga teacher thing to say - there is no other choice. And it makes you naked. And it forces you to stand in your power.
And I LOVED the birth of my daughter. I wouldn't have had it any other way. She is my reward, and she's beyond worth it.
So I have an extremely talented friend, Kathryn, who takes pictures with such a genuine sweetness and honesty. She recently honored me by asking me to be a part of a project and has featured me in her blog. I thought the least I could do was to repay the favor and give her a little publicity :) Though I am a little bashful to put these in a public forum, they are there already, so here we go!
Here's a link to the post that has our shoot in it:
If you are in the market for a photographer for your wedding, pregnancy, new baby, or maybe other subjects too, please do yourself a favor and check out her websites:
This is Kathryn's blog: http://www.kathrynbronn.com/
And this is her website: http://www.simplelifeke.com/
Enjoy and thanks for supporting two women working to portray their honest passions and share them with the world!
My neighbors, whom we share a wall with, and can hear every word they say, yell at each other a lot. They both have unstable adult children, apparently, and this is obviously a hot topic over there. Not to mention, said children also tend to raise their voices when they are there with the parents, saying awful things to them. It feels very different than the cute older couple, whom we thought were going to be our neighbors. And now we have a baby that we are about to bring home. I'm starting to get frightened. There's a lot of hostile energy over there. And I am really trying to drop into my Buddhist training here, to check in with - what of this am I projecting? Where is my compassion for these suffering beings? Why can I only think of my coming child and how I want a peaceful, quiet, child-friendly environment to bring her home to, rather than World War III/Mental Health ward at the hosiptal?
It's making me feel like an extreme voyeur, a peeping tom, and the nosiest neighbor ever to listen to their fights. To wonder how much longer I have to live here? To dread a real explosion from one of their children, and speculate on how it might affect mine? The energy is all wrong.
Tell me, am I wrong to listen? When they raise their voices, should I go hide upstairs in my bedroom, so that I can try not to hear what they say? Is that the right thing to do... in my own home? But the more I refuse to hide, the more I am vicariously sucked into their drama - one in which I DO NOT want to be involved on ANY level. Oy. This is a very hard situation we've gotten ourselves into. And one that really could not be avoided. It's not like the day we agreed to sign a lease, they were yelling and screaming and throwing pots and pans... no they were on their best behavior. Only more recently have we begun to hear evidence of the discord in that household. Now that we're locked into a lease and have a baby coming.
Really, I am no one to judge any one else's family. I am not qualified to critique how other people communicate. Really, I do understand that I may be being a little self-righteous and holier-than-thou (as I have been called before). But is it wrong of me to want the happiest, most loving and peaceful energy around my whole home when this baby makes her debut into the world? I have no control over what goes on in anybody else's home. It wouldn't even make a difference if I said something to them - I'm sure they know we can hear them, they've mentioned it before. I have to start digging down into that well of deep love of mine and find some compassion; find some understanding and some non-judgement. I'm sure it exsists, because in that well, there is only love, and no room for fear, doubt or judgement. But a mother's sense of needing to protect her child from ANY harm, be it spoken words, acts or other, is visceral - it is primal and instinctual. There is the tiniest of split seconds to see that habit and act to change it before a mother would act to protect her child from a percieved threat. And maybe this is one habit I'm not sure I'm willing to break. Call me an unenlightened being. Go ahead. I want to create a bubble of love around this child. An orb of white, healing light that she may always experience the world as good and kind. Wow, does that ever sound cheezy, but it's true!
This makes me think of the story of the Buddha - who's father, the king, knew he was special from his birth. It was foretold that he would be a very influential and special being. The father took this to mean his son would be king for sure, and took all precaution to shield his son from any suffering. Any old age, sickness, sadness - everything like this he banished from the kingdom. Only young, beautiful, healthy and happy people remained. And yet, young Siddhartha knew there was a piece of the puzzle missing. He knew that there was more to life, and he left his father and his hopes of kingship to see the world, to specifically experience the suffering and seek within himself the key to it's unravelling - he became a monk. And because of his exposure to the hardships in the world, the sadness and difficulty that he saw and felt, he was able to break through the facade of superficial happiness created by his father who tried to pass off as real, and see the world for what it was.
What that is, what Buddha saw, is not for me to say - I am, after all, not an enlightened being, but what I can say, or hope is that maybe my kid will have the gift of forgiveness hardwired inside of her when she's born. This is my deepest wish for her. That she may not internalize what she hears around her, not judge others in situations that she couldn't possibly understand, and greet others with an open heart full of optimism - offering their soul to reach it's hightest when it is in her presence.
I guess what I'm saying is that maybe we moved into the PERFECT situation for us - to use this as a learning opportunity. One where we can teach her to have compassion for others who are suffering, to not pass judgement and to keep her heart open, though she may feel someone around her has carefully blocked the entrance to their own heart. To know that her kindness will never go unrewarded, even if the immediate result is not what she expects. To love others unconditinally, even if they may say or do things that she doesn't agree with.
Ay, yay, yay. This kid's not even born yet, and she's already got me dropping a pail into that well of love deeper than one's ever been before. I guess that's what kids do. My deepest love and gratitude go to her for teaching me about the depth of kindness and love before we have even met eyes.
As a student of yoga, massage, meditation , poetry and other such introversions, I figured some of my inspirations might also touch the hearts of others. Read, ruminate, digest, create...always returning to this well of deep love inside to renew ourselves and rediscover what we are. Enjoy!