In working with patience and fearlessness, we learn to be patient with the fact that we’re human beings, that everyone who is born and dies from the beginning of time until the end of time is naturally going to want some kind of resolution to this edgy, moody energy. And there isn’t any. The only resolution is temporary and just causes more suffering. We discover that as a matter of fact joy and happiness, peace, harmony and being at home with yourself and your world come from sitting still with the moodiness of the energy until it rises, dwells and passes away. The energy never resolves itself into something solid. ~ Pema Chodron
Life is too fast or too slow. It depends on the day. This life in between being a procreating, lactating mama-creature and being in some mellower, wiser space is incredibly up or down. It’s fascinating to be journeying in this direction just as my daughter enters her own thresh hold. Some days she hurtles from sadness to silliness so quickly – The Hunger Games meets The Gilmore Girls. … Just as some days I wake up with love for this world, with patience and awe. Then next day, without warning – or with a SNAP at midday – I am just so saddened by it. Going to Target is liking walking on cut glass; watching a 3-year old drink from her own soda container nearly as big as her head is brutal. And the noise – my daughter practicing violin practice, my partner/drummer tap tap tapping on the kitchen counter while waiting for the kettle to boil, the cat pawing at the door, my son playing Usher on Spotify yet again — it all triggers me into a place where I cannot breathe. I try to be nice, to weigh my words, but I can tell from the looks on their faces after I’ve asked them to turn down the volume, to take a break, to even stop that I’ve done nothing but harm. Over and over I am the Harm Mommy, She Who Must Not be Angered.
I try to take it all in, to love this day of rain and room cleaning, of throwing away old toys and watching Dorothy battle the winged monkeys. I adore that I knew that she’d only want the grilled cheese sandwich if there was tomato soup (there was). I find peace in a soccer-less afternoon. I am amused and pleased that he’s emailing his teacher to suggest parts to add to the class play after having found the original Wizard of Oz script online.
I watch this and remember how fast it goes, so: watch, be open. I read this and my heart lurches with fear out of what might come and with gratitude for the mamas going through it mindfully. This morning, looking at a friends’ photos from a trip to Turkey I was flooded with longing to travel – angry that my ex is in Puerto Rico and then London and then California while I’m vacuuming, doing laundry, and watching The Wizard of Oz. And then I’m grateful for the laundry – folding the socks that are getting bigger – and so so glad that I’m watching The Wizard of Oz, grateful for teenaged Judy and welled up with tears for the Judy that will come. All at once. All at once.