To Be.

Lately I have been trying something new with my kids. Whenever we (they) are in a transition (walking out the door, leaving the park, heading off to nap time, putting dinner on the table, etc.) I speak in a soft whisper. This is not for my kid's sake, but for mine. As tensions rise in my house, I can feel myself wanting to fix things; somehow make the transition easier, take away the problem, or just get angry enough to cause my kids to silence themselves. Whispering helps me to remember that it is not my job to fix anything. Whispering also allows my kids the room to feel their own emotions and to live within their moment.

After 15 years of full time work, starting right out of highschool, during which I graduated with a BA, got married, moved four times and had kids, I decided to quit. A better word, transition. I'll spare you the details regarding what led up to my decision (for another post perhaps). Ultimately, I had to give five weeks notice. During that five weeks I pumped out more work than I thought possible. At the same time, I recognized the huge U-turn I was about to enter into and spoke softly to myself. I read, When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chodron. My husband wondered about my choice but I knew that my life was "falling apart" and I needed some wisdom. This is what I found.

"When things fall apart and we're on the verge of we know not what, the test for each of us is to stay on the brink and not concretize...From this point of view, the only time we ever know what's really going on is when the rug's been pulled out and we can't find anywhere to land....Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen; room for grief, for relief, for misery for joy."

I meditated upon this for five weeks. I told myself that it was okay to fall apart and in turn, it was okay for my kids to fall apart. I shouldn't try to fix the problem. I shouldn't try to stop the falling. Relaxing into the falling, allowing room for all the different emotions helps with the coming together again (the healing).

During my U-turn I took my 5 year old up to Seattle to see Santa on the top of the Space Needle. I had great expectations. My son fell apart half way through the day. He was miserable (tired, cranky, who knows). The day didn't go like either of us had planned. I was hurt. Driving home in silence my 5 year old handed me the stuffed flower that he had won at one of the arcade (the claw) games. "You can have this, Mom. I won this for you," he said. I smiled at him. I have kept this flower by my computer. It reminds me that I should live within the moment and experience the emotions of the moment for what they are. I shouldn't try to stop the falling. Eventually things come together again (and then they fall apart again). The healing (the teaching) comes from within the moment when there is room to explore.

I had to carry my not-so-little bundle of joy out of the park tonight kicking and screaming. My first inclination was to try to appease her with anything. I wanted the screaming to stop. My whispering tone helped me remember to live within the falling; allow her to scream, allow her to feel mad; allow her to feel hurt. She came together again and we had a nice snuggle before bedtime during which she told me that she, "wanted to stay at the park forever." I told her we could go again tomorrow. She replied, "that's fun."

Our lives, (even as adults) are constantly falling apart and coming back together again. During my five week transition leading up to staying at home full time, I understood that I was on the brink of falling but that it was okay to fall. I am learning to live withing my falling and in my coming back together again.