Yogic Parenting
I've been thinking for a while now about what it means to live parenting as a spiritual path. And every day that I'm home with my children, I am noticing more and more what it truly means to be a yogini. And a mom. And a mystical being merged with the souls of my children.
There are really so many ways I see yoga and parenting as one and the same. I mean, for example, when I practice yoga and I dedicate my practice to the cessation of suffering of all young people on the planet, my practice becomes a very selfless and soulful one. And then, when I do as Mother Teresa suggested when she said, "If you want to promote world peace, go home and love your family," I am confronted with a yoga practice that blows me out of the water. I dedicate my practice to my children - and to my husband - because without him we would not be the family that we are. I make the intention to let something, someone larger than me move my actions in the course of a stay-at-home, homeschooling mother day, and I try my very best just to get out of the way. Then I see the startling results of living the Path of Yoga. I see compassion, gentleness, non-harming/non-violence taking place right in my own kitchen. I see my own stories come up, get in the way for a minute, and then take a back seat to the divine path of my children. And I see where I make mistakes - but what's even bigger than that is, I have the humbleness to say I am sorry to my kids.
Like this morning...
I am in the house cooking, cleaning, just running around between drinking tea and brushing my teeth and I realize it's 10:30...and we haven't even so much as looked outside on such a gorgeous sunny day. In Maine, gorgeous sunny days are truly somthing to come by - especially this particular summer when 1/3 of it was rainy. So, I have a mini freak out. I say I NEED to get out into the sun, and that the kids NEED to get out into the sun, like now.
Jai (my daughter who is 4) says she wants to bring her bike with her. I tell her no (why, I have no idea, but I did...) and that it would take too long to get it together and out the door (whoa what a lie that is...) and she starts to cry. I say I want to be in the sun. I hold onto my story like it's a fish that's gonna get away. She continues crying. I walk out the door without her with the whole "tough love" idea in my head. And Sage, my son, walks up to me, totally composed and says, "Mom, you know you only have one Jai. You have so many sunny days," and just like that I am awake.
I walk up to Jai, who is now outside but still crying, and begin to cry myself. I say, between sobs, "Jai I was really mean to you. I had no right to treat you like that and leave you when you asked for my help. I want to apologize to you. You have every right to cry and to ask for your bike and you mean so much more to me that being in the sun today."
She stops crying immediately.
She says, "Mom I love you for being so mean and for being so kind. Thank you."
She kisses me and hugs me and puts her hand on my heart.
How can this girl be only FOUR?
And how can I be thirty-three and still have to learn these lessons - of greed, selfishness, and of instant forgiveness?
Who is the teacher here? And who is the student? I mean, really, when we think about it as parents who are also yogis, what on the Earth could we not learn about the Path of Yoga as parents? Why is it that when we are young we are able to see things so clearly, we are so in touch with our feelings, emotions, and needs and then we grow up indoctinated in a culture that values buying things to banish feelings? I've been looking at this really deeply lately and I see why Mother Teresa said what she did. Kids are so close to The Source, you know, and yet they are also so open that whatever is taught to them (by example, mostly) is what they will become molded into. If we, as parents, continue to ignore our children's feelings, if we continue to say to them, "shhh, don't cry, you're OK" then what are we teaching them? What are we showing them in terms of values?
And as a practitioner of yoga, as well as a yoga teacher, how could I possibly expect my own practice to be authentic if I wasn't heeding the teachings of my own great Gurus? I have worked very hard, with massive intentions floating around for a long time to be able to regain the ability to feel, to be with the difficult stuff in my life and my practice on the mat, to stay in a pose especially when it is stretching me beyond what I thought possible. So, why would I want to tell my own children - yogis in their own right - to forgo their feelings, the intuition, and to stop crying or else they will be abandoned?
I was sitting in true humility this morning for all that I was taught in those few moments. And I had to then sit in the meditation that is the practice of being a mom and truly being with my children. With everything they bring - and making the intention to see their experience with reverence and neutrality. If they fall down and skin a knee, I need to honor and validate that pain, I need to tell them that it is OK to cry and that crying helps us heal - it's our God-given ability and if we weren't supposed to cry, we wouldn't have been made with tear ducts.
Please give me the presence of mind and body to be in this world with grace. Please remind me that I am perfect just the way I am - even when I "mess up." Please give me another moment, another day with my children - as they learn and play at home - to remain innocent and beautiful and pure. Please let me be me, mystical mom, radical - but possible - as it is.
There are really so many ways I see yoga and parenting as one and the same. I mean, for example, when I practice yoga and I dedicate my practice to the cessation of suffering of all young people on the planet, my practice becomes a very selfless and soulful one. And then, when I do as Mother Teresa suggested when she said, "If you want to promote world peace, go home and love your family," I am confronted with a yoga practice that blows me out of the water. I dedicate my practice to my children - and to my husband - because without him we would not be the family that we are. I make the intention to let something, someone larger than me move my actions in the course of a stay-at-home, homeschooling mother day, and I try my very best just to get out of the way. Then I see the startling results of living the Path of Yoga. I see compassion, gentleness, non-harming/non-violence taking place right in my own kitchen. I see my own stories come up, get in the way for a minute, and then take a back seat to the divine path of my children. And I see where I make mistakes - but what's even bigger than that is, I have the humbleness to say I am sorry to my kids.
Like this morning...
I am in the house cooking, cleaning, just running around between drinking tea and brushing my teeth and I realize it's 10:30...and we haven't even so much as looked outside on such a gorgeous sunny day. In Maine, gorgeous sunny days are truly somthing to come by - especially this particular summer when 1/3 of it was rainy. So, I have a mini freak out. I say I NEED to get out into the sun, and that the kids NEED to get out into the sun, like now.
Jai (my daughter who is 4) says she wants to bring her bike with her. I tell her no (why, I have no idea, but I did...) and that it would take too long to get it together and out the door (whoa what a lie that is...) and she starts to cry. I say I want to be in the sun. I hold onto my story like it's a fish that's gonna get away. She continues crying. I walk out the door without her with the whole "tough love" idea in my head. And Sage, my son, walks up to me, totally composed and says, "Mom, you know you only have one Jai. You have so many sunny days," and just like that I am awake.
I walk up to Jai, who is now outside but still crying, and begin to cry myself. I say, between sobs, "Jai I was really mean to you. I had no right to treat you like that and leave you when you asked for my help. I want to apologize to you. You have every right to cry and to ask for your bike and you mean so much more to me that being in the sun today."
She stops crying immediately.
She says, "Mom I love you for being so mean and for being so kind. Thank you."
She kisses me and hugs me and puts her hand on my heart.
How can this girl be only FOUR?
And how can I be thirty-three and still have to learn these lessons - of greed, selfishness, and of instant forgiveness?
Who is the teacher here? And who is the student? I mean, really, when we think about it as parents who are also yogis, what on the Earth could we not learn about the Path of Yoga as parents? Why is it that when we are young we are able to see things so clearly, we are so in touch with our feelings, emotions, and needs and then we grow up indoctinated in a culture that values buying things to banish feelings? I've been looking at this really deeply lately and I see why Mother Teresa said what she did. Kids are so close to The Source, you know, and yet they are also so open that whatever is taught to them (by example, mostly) is what they will become molded into. If we, as parents, continue to ignore our children's feelings, if we continue to say to them, "shhh, don't cry, you're OK" then what are we teaching them? What are we showing them in terms of values?
And as a practitioner of yoga, as well as a yoga teacher, how could I possibly expect my own practice to be authentic if I wasn't heeding the teachings of my own great Gurus? I have worked very hard, with massive intentions floating around for a long time to be able to regain the ability to feel, to be with the difficult stuff in my life and my practice on the mat, to stay in a pose especially when it is stretching me beyond what I thought possible. So, why would I want to tell my own children - yogis in their own right - to forgo their feelings, the intuition, and to stop crying or else they will be abandoned?
I was sitting in true humility this morning for all that I was taught in those few moments. And I had to then sit in the meditation that is the practice of being a mom and truly being with my children. With everything they bring - and making the intention to see their experience with reverence and neutrality. If they fall down and skin a knee, I need to honor and validate that pain, I need to tell them that it is OK to cry and that crying helps us heal - it's our God-given ability and if we weren't supposed to cry, we wouldn't have been made with tear ducts.
Please give me the presence of mind and body to be in this world with grace. Please remind me that I am perfect just the way I am - even when I "mess up." Please give me another moment, another day with my children - as they learn and play at home - to remain innocent and beautiful and pure. Please let me be me, mystical mom, radical - but possible - as it is.
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