May 2019 – Mindful Mama

Summer invocation

Attention is the rarest and purist form of generosity. — Simone Weil

Today is the last day of non-summer break for me. Tomorrow afternoon the house will once again be full of boys. I feel the urge as I do every year to create lists: goals, expectations, screen-time rules, guidelines for sharing communal space… but I’m being pulled to approach this summer a little differently.

This summer I want to help the boys (and myself) be really aware of our energy and our attention. Where we put our attention grows. I want us all to increase our awareness of both where we are directing our attention and how our energy feels when our attention is shining in different places. Are we antsy? needing to move? to rest? to be outside? to be in water? to create? How is our energy affecting others? How is the energy of others affecting us?

I am realizing that more than I want my babes to be rule followers and contract honorers, I want them to be in touch with their ever-changing needs and desires and tuned into their relationship with their environment. I want them to understand the importance of attention and the power we can harness by placing our attention on purpose.

For little bits each day I want to focus my attention upon each one of them so fiercely the generosity is palpable.

On repeat?

I shamed Mr. Middle. Again. The distance between episodes is growing fatter (thank you teachers and guides), but the echoes of my voice and the pain it caused are still reverberating in my chest.

You drank all the almond milk??!
I only buy so much,
now I want my special treat,
and it’s GONE!!!

Who was this screeching?

The growing loneliness in my heart space that needed soothing?
The feelings of inadequacy rising just below my skin?
The charge from an earlier encounter?
The eating disorder that surfaced when I was about his age?

Luckily his father called me out on my outburst breaking me out of my trance. Thank you. (And fuck you too, I thought at the moment).

I softened. I returned. I used more words. I apologized.

Though it sucks, I know this endless cycle of failure, reflection and recovery builds my resiliency and capacity to be a better human, and I know that if I continue to play with presence and attention, maybe it will build that of my boys too.

A friend shared this Hawaiian poem, Ho’oponopono, with me just this week. I may tattoo it on my palm.

I am sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.

My pro-choice conversion

Growing up and into my early twenties I was both a good Catholic and pro-life. Though I could see lots of holes in Catholicism, I didn’t see any wiggle room in my belief that every life created deserves a chance. This was an easy belief for me to have. I grew up comfortably, in a homogenous middle-class, middle America town. I didn’t see much poverty and the only case of violation I knew personally was that of a dear friend who was raped orally, which though completely rocking (and still rocking) our worlds, didn’t have us worried about pregnancy.

Though we didn’t talk about sex or pregnancy at home, I knew what the consequences would be, and the one my teenage brain was most worried about was humiliation. I did not want to walk around town with a scarlet letter in my growing belly. I knew two girls who had teen pregnancies, one gave her baby up for adoption, and the other chose to raise her daughter with her family’s help. I said prayers of honor to both. They were the bravest women I knew. The whole world was aware they’d had pre-marital sex, yet they held their heads high and went about their business as mama-warriors. Their stories strengthened both my fear of sex and pregnancy and my pro-life stance.

Being a staunch pro-lifer, senior year in college I did an internship at a home for teens that accepted those who were pregnant and/or parenting, as they were difficult fits for foster care and the state’s juvenile detention center. My favorite part of the job was accompanying the girls on outings. One day the outing list included taking a girl of twelve to a doctor’s appointment. I wasn’t thrilled as she always smelled of urine; she was a bed wetter and an infrequent bather.

In the exam room the doctor went over the list of the girl’s medications, lithium for Bipolar Disorder among them, and then asked if there was a chance she could be pregnant. I didn’t even look up from my magazine, knowing she wasn’t in the mothering wing at the home and knowing it would be difficult for anyone to crawl in bed with her. Besides, she seemed to be the social/emotional equivalent of a preschooler.

Yes, she replied.

Do you know who the father could be? asked the doctor.

Either my uncle or my cousin, she said matter of factly.

Time stopped for me. I can remember the moment as if it were yesterday. Reality as my 21-year-old self had known up to that point was forever changed.

That moment marked my unwavering conversion to being pro-choice.

I knew deep in my bones that if she was pregnant and the decision was left to me, I would choose to abort this multi-med-absorbing embryo-of-incest. Not doing so wasn’t fair to the future baby, nor to the bed-wetting, friendless and family-less child of the state.

From one second to the next, the world became much more complex, and much less black and white, than I had ever imagined.

And continues to be so.

Ditching the spreadsheet

Once upon a time, not too many years ago, I made decisions based upon a giant spreadsheet that I kept in my head. I weighed the hypothetical effects of all possible scenarios on everyone who could possibly be impacted by my decision (the environment and future generations included), checked in with my long list of “shoulds”and then I’d choose the option I believed brought the greatest amount of good and the least amount of guilt. This process was used to determine driving routes, plan meals, choose children’s activities, accept invitations, make career moves. Everything. This was an extremely exhausting mental activity, and often left me paralyzed in complicated mathematical indecision as well as feeling depleted. The question what do I want? seldom crossed my mind, and it didn’t matter anyway, I believed I was too much to too many, and I hadn’t the skills to even know what I wanted.

Flash forward a few years and my decision making process is unrecognizable. The first questions I now ask myself when faced with a choice to make are:

What is my body telling me? Am I attracted to the idea, invite or a particular choice? Do I feel lit up inside?

If so, I’ll follow up with:

Is this in alignment with my intentions?

If so, I proceed. (If not, I gracefully decline or wait a bit for more clarity.)

This new approach to decision making proves to be much less stress and much greater pleasure for me, and in turn, for my people. Yay!

The paradigm shift from outside input to inside input didn’t occur with the flip of a switch. I had to dance around the pond of self-care and self-trust and dip my toes a few times in before committing to practices that led to the big shift. They help me get in touch with my body, mind and spirit, so that I can use them as tools to become wiser and more deliberate about creating the life I want to live. Some of the biggies include:

Mindfulness meditation – one of the best ways to get to know how we think and feel is to sit with ourselves and do nothing. Or rather, try to focus on one thing as simple as the breath and see what actually happens. The thoughts come, giving us opportunity to observe them. What are they? What’s their quality? Do they serve? Is there a pattern? AND how does the body respond to different thoughts?
Yoga – another opportunity to practice mindfulness, but with movement, which takes some of the pressure off for those of us who tend toward anxious. Both the classes I teach and attend are a constant invitation to enter the body with full attention to see what’s going on. What sensations am I feeling? How do they change? Where do I feel energy? Both home practice and attending class offer opportunity to practice decision making. What do I want to do next? How deep do I want to go? Do I want a prop or a different variation of the pose?
Wild writing – like meditation, but different. This specific journal practice –writing for a specific amount of time without letting the pen leave the page– allows us to see what’s wanting to come out. What are the themes? What are we imagining? Craving? Where in the world do we want to go? What are our interests? Dreams? Liz Gilbert says that the opposite of depression isn’t happiness, but curiosity. Writing helps us answer the question: what are we curious about?
Check in (*and act accordingly) – first thing in the morning, last thing at night and a gazillion times in between. Just like we’d do with a visiting friend or a child, we can ask, how is my nervous system? How is my attention? What may l be needing? (Food? Water? Sunlight? Rest? Movement? Beauty? Nature? Vitamin B or D? A friend?) Once you know, give yourself the care you need. You are the only one who can truly know what you need. Trust you.
Pay attention to your joy meter— Notice when you get a goose-bumped skin orgasm. Notice when you’ve lost track of time because you entered a flow state. Notice when you’re taken aback by the beauty of the moment. Search out more of these scenarios. Likewise, notice when you retract in fear or disgust. Inquire about the why. Can you eliminate these encounters? If not, can you grow into and through them for deeper self-knowledge? What skills may you be needing?
Find support – personal growth (self-care) is a team sport. Find your teammates. Pay for it if you must, YOU ARE WORTH IT. Hire a coach or therapist. Join a group. If it doesn’t exist, create it! You deserve support, so search high and low until you find the right fit. Accountability partners are crucial. We learn in conversation, and when we share what we learn, we all learn faster and deeper.
Practice gratitude – As Robin Wall Kimmerer says, “gratitude breeds abundance.” Feeling abundantly blessed leads to well-being and greater confidence, including greater confidence in decision making. Scan your day each evening for specific experiences you are grateful for. Paint yourself a mental image of the experiences, write them down or share them with a friend via text.

These practices, among others, have helped transform my headspace. There’s less tension due to less “figuring out”, and there’s more ease and freedom. I don’t know exactly where or when I adopted the beliefs that formed spreadsheet thinking, but I’m grateful for plasticity of the brain, wisdom of the body and all peeps teaching and learning with me on this exciting path.