TIPS 6-8: OF BREATHING, TIME, MOSQUITOES AND TEA

TIPS 6-8:OF BREATHING, TIME, MOSQUITOES AND TEA

Meditation Practice for Mothers, "Just Do It" Tip #6: In the rapid-fire world of active parenting--you know, when your 3-year old is hanging from the top of the bookshelf (inexplicably, as he was just playing with blocks 2 seconds ago before you turned your head) while you are trying to talk to an important client, the black beans are burning, your baby is crying, your 9-year old is asking you to explain why we aren't doing more about global warming, and your husband is shouting for clean underwear--all at the same time--it is easy for the yogic/Zen techniques of "fully experiencing every moment" to unravel. So what to do? Notice you are breathing through all of it. Breathing is nice. Breathing is enough. Noticing it is enough. After all, it means we are alive on this little floating planet to be able to do all of this crazy stuff, and that is nothing short of miraculous.

Meditation Practice for Mothers, "Just Do It" Tip #7: Invariably, and no matter how you plan it with naptimes, getting up extra early, waiting till your kids are at school, etc., your preschooler will somehow time into the exact moment you have just settled into perfect, blessed, long-awaited stillness on your cushion and need you RIGHT THEN. I even had a phone call from the preschool that my son was sick and crying fir me at the very moment I sat down to meditate. This is not a conspiracy against your meditation practice. It is a cosmic reminder that you have been given a few precious years to be the center of another being's heart, and that in no time at all you will have all the time in the world to meditate...and during those times, you will wish for your kids instead. This is the practice...without linear time, shape, boundaries, or form.... Only This.

Meditation Practice for Mothers, "Just Do It" Tip  #8: It can be very challenging to maintain a meditation practice while on a school camping trip with 100 over-excited 5th graders, especially when the cabin you are assigned to is full of 9- and 10-year old over-excited girls who are afraid of cockroaches, spiders, and the dark, the love bugs and mosquitoes want to very proactively meditate on your face, the mattresses squeak like someone is slowly and excruciatingly letting the air out of a very large, loud balloon, one of the only two toilets is backed up, and your bunk mate snores in such a forceful and regular way that you are convinced, in half-wakefulness, that we need to evacuate for an impending tornado. I put bug spray on and found a pre-dawn spot with a view of the lake and oak tree sentries all around, enjoying the sounds of the night creatures catching up with the first dawn birds, breathed in this wonderful temporary stillness, nestled it inside, knowing that it, and about six gallons of tea, will sustain the day. (Cathartic post-meditation addendum: both the mosquitoes around my face and the snoring last night proved to be excellent bell ringers to snap me back into the present moment when thoughts started wandering off. This is a catharsis. I bow, bow, bow to them, and am grateful for these unexpected gifts this morning, when previously, only "Oy vey" seemed the appropriate response.)