This Perfect Moment

As usual, I have been getting caught up in worries about the future.  But something's shifting a little. The other day a question posed in The Power of Now stuck in my mind:  "What in this moment is lacking?" I paused to find out.  I was breathing, I held a warm cup of hot chocolate in my hand, my baby was peacefully sleeping, the kitties were curled up and purring, my house was warm and dry, birds were chirping outside, I did not have to be anywhere or do anything at that moment.  I had everything I needed.  I was doing just what I wanted to be doing.  So, this is my new practice.  Every time I catch myself spinning off into the future, heart and mind racing, I will stop and just revel in what is perfect about the moment I'm in.  It's a work in progress, of course.  I don't catch myself as often as I'd like, but habits of mind take time to cultivate.  I figure that I'll probably need twice as long to cultivate this new state of mind as it took for me to carve the deep groove of my future-oriented mind of worry.  It's going to be a long road, but this moment seems the perfect one in which to start!

An Experiment in Contentment

What If?

By Jena Strong

What if you knew
that everything was going to be okay,
that something was in motion
beyond your field of vision,
beyond even the periphery
of your knowing?

What if you knew
that everything you want,
everything you’ve been seeking,
trying to figure out, missing,
is right here, already whole
in your hands, in your life?

What if taking in what is
could satisfy your longing?
What if you could rest your frantic, racing, busy mind
and rest your neglected, tired body,
put your head down in someone’s lap
to have your hair stroked,
like a cat, or a child?

What if you didn’t need to understand
how it works,
but could enjoy the magic
of how love shows itself
in the most unexpected, simplest of gestures?
What if everything is just as it should be?

What if nothing had to be better,
bigger, different, or other?
What would you do then?
Who would you be?

  Contentment has been at the forefront of my consciousness lately. It's a quality that I've longed for both consciously and subconsciously for the better part of my life.  Three unrelated 'events' in the past two weeks have really put it front and center for me:

First: Two weeks ago, my teacher and dear friend Regina asked me what would happen if I just stopped
          struggling against what is in my life.
Second:  Last week, thanks to Shawn Leddington Fink at Awesomely Awake, I came across the poem
              posted above.

Third: Yesterday, my friend Karolyn, deep thinker and community organizer extraordinaire, who I haven't
          seen in about a month, happened to email me and several other people an invitation to her house on  
          the  New Moon to discuss.....you guessed it:  contentment and balancing will and surrender.

Surrounded by these 'signs', I have no choice but to dive right in.

Who would I be if I became the person in this poem?  I wouldn't be looking to have a life like anyone else's. I wouldn't be trying to plan out my every move like a chess game.  I wouldn't be spinning out anxious stories that become so dense that they cover up the light spaciousness of the present moment.  I wouldn't be striving to become anything different or better.  Not that I wouldn't have goals, but I think I would be more open to opportunity.  More open to going with the flow and allowing things to unfold.  More full of faith that everything will work out.  I have spent so much of my life focused on achievement and figuring out 'what to be when I grow up'.  I have also spent a lot of time and energy doing things because of this underlying feeling of unease or a sense that I am not enough.  I will get these big bursts of energy and pick something to start...like a quilt, or writing a book, or planning a trip, only to find that I've burned myself out in the process because I've become so hyper-focused. I have a lot of unfinished projects.   You would not believe the number of half-finished scarves are balled up in the back of my closet.  Or how many seasons my garden has become a garden of weeds.  Or how many canvases full of partial paintings I have.  Or how many races I have begun training for.   Geeze, just listing them makes me feel like a bit of a failure.  But, I am being gentle with myself, so I see that I am not a failure.  I am just a work in progress.  Right?  On the other hand, sometimes I spend all of this time planning what I will do and so I never end up doing anything.  What would happen if I just sat with the energy?  Well, it would be uncomfortable.  Almost unbearably so, which is why I end up doing all this 'stuff'.  So I am going to take the challenge and practice, more often, just sitting with the energy to see what happens.  Maybe then the debris of my mind will settle enough to reveal what I am really meant to be doing.  This is going to take a leap of faith and a whole lot of patience with myself.  It will be my experiment in contentment.  I'll let you know how it goes.  I think I can legitimately now say "here goes nothing."

Beginner's Mind

I love to be with Aidan as he experiences the world.  He is full of joy and curiosity; everything makes him laugh.  We stop in the woods while snowshoeing and he looks up at the trees with his big dark blue eyes and a smile breaks out on his face and he begins to laugh.  One night I sat with him by the wood stove and he just kept laughing as he watched the flames flicker and warm us from behind the glass.  Our cat Bodhi swishes by him when he is in his jumper and he laughs at the big puff of fluffy tail.  How funny and wonderful it must be to see all of these new things after being bundled in a warm, dark place for so long.  I hope that he will keep this gift of finding humor and wonder in everything. 

                                                    Snowshoeing with Aidan

Mindful Moments

Aidan Patrick is here!  The past two and a half months have been full of wonder, emotion, and love deeper than I ever imagined was possible.  It really is like having my heart outside of my body.  Very raw.  I now have first hand, daily reminders of what it means to have a 'tender heart of sadness'.   It is nearly unbelievable that a year and a day ago, we found out that we were going to have a baby.  We spent January and February referring to Aidan as our little blueberry.   I feel like I've lived a whole lifetime since then.  That I've evolved into a new person.  A gentler person.  A more grounded person.  A person with deeper faith.  I am living my dharma.  For the first time in my life, I feel like I am doing EXACTLY what I am meant to be doing.  What a relief--in most ways.  Other questions do loom: How can I balance being a mama with my work as a teacher?  Will I have the energy to do both with love and mindfulness?  How will I tolerate the speed at which time now seems to be passing ?  (How it is possible that time sped up so much since our Cuddle Bean was born?)  In the spirit of mindfulness, when these questions get me hooked, I come back to now.  Here's how:

1.  When I am awake in the middle of the night with my little one, exhausted, I breathe in his smell, feel his warmth cuddled into my chest, breathe in love, and breathe it out through my heart, pores, and hands, into his tiny body.  I remind myself that someday, when he is about 17, I will be awake in the middle of the night hoping that he'll make good choices and come home safe.

2.  When I am nursing, I nurse.  I don't distract myself on the computer or by watching TV.  I try to take in the miracle.  I can nourish this human being...this bundle of pure potential.  We gaze into each other's eyes.  Sometimes it is just funny because he will look up at me and grin a great big gummy grin, (even though there's a nipple in his mouth), and give a big sigh and I will just crack up laughing.  I feel his warm little body against mine and celebrate our connection.

3.  When he is crying and I know it's not because he's hungry, wet, or sick, I just hold him lovingly, look at him, and listen.  I let him know that I love him and that it's okay to cry.  I bear witness to the rise and fall of his emotions and hope in my heart that this will help him to know that he is loved unconditionally.  Many times after a good cry, he gets calm, heavy, sleepy and he just cuddles right into me.

4.  I make time everyday to meditate.  It's not usually longer than 20 minutes and it's not usually first thing in the morning anymore.  But, this 10-20 minute practice has helped me get into the habit of returning to my breath and focus at other times in the day.

5.  I practice gratitude, either by writing down what I am grateful for from that day, or mentally listing at least ten things I am grateful for before I fall asleep.

Prayer for Our Son

May you know the love that brought you life.
May you know the peace in every breath.
May your eyes be ever-wide with wonder.
May you welcome obstacles as part of your journey
      and grow wiser as you meet them.
May you find laughter in each day.
May you hear the truth in your heart and follow it.
May you join hearts with all living beings
     and know compassion without bounds.
May you live gently on this Earth.
                                    With Love always,
                                    Mama

Blessingway

Yup, it's been a long time!  Between spending the summer working, getting the house ready for baby, making baby things, sleeping a lot, and now with the start of teaching again, I haven't made much time to post, though I have thought about it often!  Today my sister Shaina and one of my very best friends Taylor hosted a blessingway ceremony for me.  It was beautiful to be surrounded by so many old and new dear friends.  I felt showered with love.  Rites of passage are very important to me and I hope that our family will be able to have some special traditions to celebrate different rites of passage for our child(ren).
Here is the poem that Shaina read for the ceremony:

Love Life

You are here to love life,
that is what the Universe is
offering; the opportunity to step
fully, ever more deeply, every day,
in every breath into the possibility
of savoring the gift of embodiment,
of realizing the Universe has gone
through great lengths, all this trouble
to make you, that you're not here
to get something, or acquire something
or achieve something, but merely
to taste, to savor the gift of
the conversation of the heart.
And let that be enough to
let this message of love in.

                          -Gopala Iver Sundarmoorthy

Here is the poem that I read towards the end of the ceremony:

Ordinary Miracle

I have mourned lost days
When I accomplished nothing of importance.
But not lately.
Lately under the lunar tide
of a woman's ocean, I work
My own sea-change:
Turning grains of sand to human eyes.
I daydream after breakfast
While the spirit of egg and toast
knits together a length of bone
as fine as a wheatstalk.
Later, as I postpone weeding the garden
I will make two hands
that may tend a hundred gardens.

I need ten full moons exactly
for keeping the animal promise.
I offer myself up: unsaintly, but
transmuted anyway
by the most ordinary miracle.
I am nothing in this world beyond the things one woman does.
But here are eyes that once were pearls,
and here is a second chance where there was none.

                               -Barbara Kingsolver

And I will let that be enough for now.  I feel blessed!

Creativity

Now that I'm well into the second trimester, which has been WONDERFUL!, I have been feeling very creative.  Today I got some things to make a little mobile for our baby boy's room.       Here is one really cute idea!  I am making one with owls and birds.  It will probably be another month before I'm even able to start on it, due to the busyness that comes with finishing up the school year!  I will be sure to post the finished product!