Motherhood Confessions:
On this walk at the Davis Arboretum I caught myself wanting my son to be like all those kids who enjoy green smoothies, hug trees and champion for animals rights. I wanted him to be interested in the plants and birds of the ecosystem we were visiting. Instead he was loud, unruly, and rebellious, climbing trees and laughing at my frustration. I kept wanting him to slow down, find silence, be still... all these versions of what I think it means to live well. Things that I've had to learn the hard way over many, many years (and I'm still learning). On the carride home I was telling him about a group of Native teenagers who spoke at a national conference for the earth, how they demanded environmental responsibility. He suddently yelled out with tears in his eyes, "I know you want me to be like them mom, that's why you're telling me this, but I'm just me!" My heart ached. The last thing in the entire world I ever wanted to do was make my son feel like he wasn't acceptable or good enough as he is. "You are so amazing and perfect just the way you are," I said, "I am so sorry I've made you feel like I want you to be different. I'm human and I'm learning. Thank you for speaking up and telling me how you truly feel son. We're growing together."
Sometimes I still get stuck in spiritual ideals and unrealistic expectations. And while he definitely needs guidance from his father and I, he IS his own person... he's the product of a technological era, he's a YouTube fanatic, a videogamer, a prankster, an athlete, a rebel and outspoken truthteller. He hates reading, despises homework, turns his nose at ceremony and meditation, and can throw some fierce pre-teen temper tantrums. But he's honest, hilarious, and all around awesome. He has a kind heart and also a whole lot of dysfunction from the days his father and I were unconscious that bury his tenderness under layers of protection. That's okay. We lived, we learned and we do our work every day. We're all walking our own paths and we're all showing up now.
I do want him to know how important his relationship with his body, mind, and spirit are and how that will directly impact his attitude toward earth (though he has no interest in these things). But I don't ever want to force my beliefs on him or give off the subtle energy that he's wrong for being who he is. This got me thinking about the way I interact with everyone, not just my kid... "this is what's wrong with our world" (his dad Tyler has told me so many times... my mirror these two!). That we separate ourselves between religions, schools of thoughts, generations, genders and so forth... I'm right and you're wrong... and then everyone is left feeling unloved, unseen, unheard, and defensive. Standing up to injustice is one thing, but deciding that my way is THE way is ludicrous.
How can any one of us claim that we know what's best for everyone... it sounds totally insane given that we have such an infinitely small understanding of life and reality. When we get dogmatic, even in our views about embodiment, enlightenment, veganism, [insert anything here]... we've automatically lost. As Adyshanti says, we are not truly free unless we allow others the freedom to be exactly who they are. Theres's a huge paradox here because of course greed exists, robbing the resources of our earth mother is real and detrimental, murder and rape are not ever okay or excusable. But if my path is knowing myself as nature... in solitudo... and someone else's is connecting through social media or being a comedian (laughter IS the best medicine) then that's just the way it is.
My son teaches me lessons every day. On this day I was reminded that I love him just the way he is. And I can extend this gift to others too. I am given the opportunity time and time again to surrender and trust our journey togther... I trust the times the dark mother is alive in me, when I question my sanity and it's so difficult to choose patience and love... and I trust the times the earth mother is alive in me, when I am calm and nurturing and open hearted. Sometimes I forget that his frolicking isn't always disrespectful, it's enriching. His playfulness isn't really wasted time, it's the birthing place of his curiosity. His testing the limits and his oneriness are both sacred acts too.
He is not a perfect child: he talks back, has a definite sense of self and independence, pushes boundaries and is extremely strong willed. But he is the perfect kid for me... he challenges me to stand in my integrity, rise to the occasion, show up, be present, dig deep, dance with my shadows, and love greater than I ever knew possible. He reminds me to stop taking myself and life so seriously... there is joy to be found in his innocence and in his purposeful pushing against any boundary of mine that is weak and needing my attention. He acts like a heyoka in my life, reminding me how ridiculous I look when I take myself and my views to be authority...
In the end we know but we don't... our individual journeys are like coming home but also realizing it's all a greater mystery than we ever suspected. We all find out what's right for us, find our sovereignty, but in that comes the responsibility of offering that same freedom to everyone else.
Parenting is so hard. Hell, life is hard! It's the most difficult thing I've ever done and I'm sure so many parents would attest to the same. It's beautiful and rewarding but it's also a cauldron of growth if we allow it to change us, and growth can be painful at times.
Transformation through parenthood will look different for each of us but for me it looks like trying desperately to guide my son, to instill values in him that have nothing to do with mainstream society, hoping that he will not measure his worth by a grade or a paycheck and that I can let go of what I think his life should like, because one day he will also need to break free from even my perspectives and world views. If he's ever going to find out who he truly is, I must give him the space to take his quest. It's this balance between teaching him discipline and respect and also honoring what he teaches me that I stumble through each day. But no matter what happens today or tomorrow or the next, I can't imagine him being anyone other than who he is. And who ever he is meant to become... I'm learning to trust that too.