11.18.2014

Forgiveness in Absentia

Many of us encounter people in our lives who will hurt us in immeasurable ways. Siblings, parents, friends, spouses, teachers, doctors, priests. People we relied on, because we had to or because we had chosen them. People who were in a position of trust with us, and who thus had greater access to our tender and vulnerable places.

Like everyone else, forgiveness is something I've been working on all my life. I don't work on forgiveness because I'm some spiritual ninja who puts healthy practices first in my life. I can promise you I'm not that good or disciplined. I work on forgiveness because it's essential for my own survival. Forgiveness, for me, is the process of spitting out the poison that others have fed me.

There are biblical and other faith teachings that say that forgiveness requires reconciliation. That's a nice idea. What if all of our woundedness could be healed and packaged and pretty and sewn up with a hug and a smile. As I get older, I'm learning that this is not always possible. The practice of forgiveness transforms me, but it does not transform the person I am forgiving into a person who would no longer offer me poison and call it love.

If you forgive a wolf for attacking you, would you believe that real forgiveness requires you to welcome the wolf into your home? Of course not. If you have finally clearly seen a wolf for who he or she is, forgiveness means forgiving them for being a wolf, not pretending that they are something else.

We never see "forgiveness" hanging out there on its own. It's always "forgive and forget," or forgiveness and closure, forgiveness and reconciliation. Sometimes there is only forgiveness, and this is okay. For the wolves we have encountered in our lives, for the ones who hurt us and are gone, forgiveness can be especially challenging because that sense of closure is more difficult to achieve without the other person's participation. But sometimes, not having the other person's participation is either unavoidable or is necessary, because he or she is a wolf and not safe to be around. This is what I am calling "forgiveness in absentia," and here is what I have learned about it.

It's hard.

But it is possible. It is possible to be in a state of forgiveness of a person and simultaneously want nothing to do with them. It is possible to sincerely wish someone every comfort and peace and healing, and to wish them to enjoy those things far, far away from you. The difficult step necessary to make this happen, I'm learning, is letting go of your feelings of woundedness and hurt. Being the one who was hurt, the one who was wounded, brings a certain power with it in our sick and wounded culture. It assumes a sort of moral superiority over the one who did the wounding. Letting go of that is hard, because if you're really honest with yourself, you'll admit that it feels good to feel superior to the person who hurt you. It feels good to get sympathy from others for how shitty another person was to you. But watch out, because this is you becoming attached to the poison, making it a part of you that you hold out for others to see and tell them the terrible story of how it was given to you. No one will stop to ask you, but why are you still carrying it around? But they should. And you should ask yourself this. You may not like the answers, but again, you're carrying poison given to you by someone else. Let it go.

Forgiveness in absentia has another challenge: in realizing and accepting that the one who wounded you is not someone you are safe around, there is grief for the loss of that relationship. Even relationships that ended horribly, painfully, cruelly, had some grains of good in them, some moments of connection that are worth holding onto and remembering. But mostly, when you are willing to release your feelings of woundedness and your identity as the victim of cruelty and attacks, you free yourself, finally, from the poison that was fed to you. You have spit it out. It is not who you are; it was who they were.

It is tempting at this point to tie the package up with a nice bow and say, "And then, you'll see the other person in a new light and there is space now to see them as a whole human and not just as the person who attacked you, and the two of you can start anew with a deeper and stronger connection than you had before." But no. The first part of that sentence, about seeing them as a whole human, yes, that's true. But not the second part. Unless they have also undergone their own transformation, you are still dealing with a wolf. And when, by now, there are so many happy mutts in your life occupying your heart, it's okay to leave that wolf alone.

5.05.2013

Birds and Anxiety

When the kids were very young, I made a habit of pointing out the beauty around us in ordinary moments - the white swirl of clouds larger than skyscrapers, the dramatic and also subtle hues of sunset and sunrise, the towering grace of trees, the ever-present chirps and songs of birds.  I would tell them that one of the amazing things about living on this planet was that its beauty was always there, right in front of us, at every single moment, and that no matter what was happening for us in that moment, no matter how bad a day they were having, there would always be this, here for them, and all they had to do was remember to notice and enjoy it.

I did this in hopes that I was giving them a tool, a means to cope, to find solace and balm.  I didn't realize how much it would take root for them.

The boy, now 8, has become a bit of a junior ornithologist and naturalist.  He knows things about species, particularly birds, that I had never known, and I'm 44, and I read a lot and have been a nature lover and explorer for years.  And he still stumps me, and also his stepdad.  When he first started to rattle off facts and information to us, some of it sounding a tad implausible to our skeptical grown-up know-it-all minds, we would say, Really?  Are you sure?  I don't know, that doesn't sound quite right.  And then we would look it up, and the boy would have been right.  About all of it.  So we've learned.  Tonight, DH couldn't help himself, because the boy was talking about the cookie-cutter shark.  I would have thought, with a name like that, I would have heard about it by now.  DH apparently felt the same way, and during dinner he whipped out his phone, looked it up, and sure enough, the boy was right again.

I now know things about birds that I would never have known if the boy didn't love them so much.  I know that the female cardinal is a warm, nutty brown next to her more flamboyant partner, and I can tell their song every time I hear it.  I have a deeper appreciation for the singing prowess of mockingbirds.  I never realized how many birds around us are marked with yellow.  I have seen and correctly identified a red-winged blackbird.  I have watched a woodpecker and its mate build their nest.  I have seen a green heron on the phone line, fluffing its feathers in the cold morning air.  And I love all of this, this amazing gift of appreciation from my 8 year old son, but it also scares the hell out of me.  Because, something about going through what we've been through, it leaves you with a large residue of anxiety.  Now you know that horrific things happen.  Not just on the news, not just to people whose FB page your friend "liked" and it showed up in your feed.  They happen to you, in your life.  And once one horrific thing has happened very close to you and ripped through your own life - and worse, the lives of the people you love most of all, it feels like the next horrific thing is lurking in the wings, hiding behind the furniture, waiting for its chosen moment to leap into your life and wreck you and what you love again.  So for every joy, there is a frame of anxiety around it, like the photo frames at Target that say "Friends" and "Love" and "Family", except yours says "The Next Disaster Could Happen At Any Moment".  And how do you argue with that?  It's true.  You know it. 

So along with my delight in all of this new-found appreciation given to me by my son, my anxiety has also stepped up, because I've realized that birds now will always remind me of him, like looking at a rock makes me think of my geologist dad.  I feel so naive not realizing how much my kids were imprinting my world while I was deliberately trying to imprint theirs.  Anxiety is a patient bastard, I have to say.  I'm fortunate not to be plagued by depression, that constant gnawing monster.  But anxiety, mercifully mild most of the time, is a regular visitor.  I believe this is part of what's to be expected with post-traumatic-stress-disorder.  I believe, with time, it is supposed to be self-correcting.  Sometimes I look at how much has passed in these last three years - half a lifetime for the kids, but sometimes just a blink for me.  And I tell myself, you're doing fine.  Keep moving forward.  Everyone's safe and okay.  Tomorrow will be beautiful and ordinary and good, even the feisty bits.  And then I notice all of the art from the kids hanging around the house, the many "I love you" notes, and I try to focus on that and ignore the frame.

4.25.2013

Why Separation of Church and State Means Churches Must Abide by the Laws They Don't Like

I guess there have always been attempts by churches to be excused from following the laws that go against their religious teachings.  I am being careful not to say laws that go against their morals, because morals and religious teachings are separate sources of what's right and wrong, that for some people are very connected, and for others - are not.  So I'm speaking here only about the church's interpretations, based on their particular dogma and doctrines, for what is acceptable conduct and what is not.

Recently, several churches, hospitals, universities and private individuals claiming religious belief have argued, and even sued the federal government, for their right to go against current legal requirements for allowing their female employees access to birth control under their health insurance (even if the insurer pays the full cost, which they're willing to do because family planning is much cheaper than the alternative), for example, or for recognizing the homosexual marriage of employees, patients or students who are legally married in states that recognize them (or the legal civil unions and associated medical power of attorney in states that do not).

There has also been a steady drumbeat from the very far right that Islamists in America are trying to create Shariah-law friendly zones and to implement Shariah law in jurisdictions across America.

I want to sit these folks down and explain to them very carefully that the one thing they are trying to do above, opens the door for exactly what they most fear and oppose.  I think most people understand this, but in case they don't, I'm going to spell it out, step by step, so that folks understand that when we stand up and say, no, the church cannot pick and choose which laws it will abide by, it's to protect them and the rest of us, not to harm them and not to disrespect them.

Let's say, for example, that a law is passed that says churches and organizations affiliated with churches may submit applications for waivers from local and federal laws that would otherwise require them to go against their religious teachings.  The way laws work, it would not be possible to say specifically which type of churches are allowed this privilege.  For example, it would not be okay to say only Christian churches could exercise this privilege, because that would be a state endorsement of a specific religion, which I think we all agree is a no-no under the First Amendment.  So the law would be written to generally allow religious institutions and their affiliates to be excused from following laws that go against their teachings.

All churches, of all faiths.

The effect of a law like this would be to create a massive loophole in democracy for all religious organizations to do as their holy books, cardinals, imams, rabbis, elders, etc. instruct instead of what the law requires.  A child denied life-saving cancer treatment on the basis of the parents' religious beliefs?  Excused.  Daughters denied education on the basis of the parents' religious beliefs?  Excused.  Polygamy?  Excused.  Chopping off a hand as punishment for theft within the community?  Excused.

This is the problem.  Once it is put into law, in any degree, that religious belief is allowed to override laws that conflict with faith or beliefs, the principle that religion trumps the democratic process has now entered the law and become legal precedent.  This is exactly what you do not want in a free country.  It is an extremely dangerous path to start down, and it opens the door to religion - any religion - to override secular principles of justice and individual freedoms and liberties, including most importantly the right of freedom of conscience, that are the foundation of our country's legal and political system. 

Those who follow a specific religion are already, right now, free to make choices in their own, personal lives to live as they see fit:  don't believe in gay marriage?  No one's forcing you into one.  Don't believe in science?  Then forego your own medical care and stop using the internet.  Don't believe in birth control?  No one's forcing you to use it.  But the examples given above are all cases where members of a religious organization would require others to also live by their particular religious beliefs rather than by the individual's own conscience.  You can't have it both ways, folks.  If you want freedom of conscience, which is the law right now, then you have to respect everyone else's freedom of conscience, too.  Even if you disagree with how they are living their lives.  It's their choice, their life, but most importantly, it's the law.  It's the result of the secular, democratic process.  And once we give special dispensation to avoid the law based on  religious beliefs, we open the door for all religious beliefs to avoid the law.  This is a sacred boundary, and it cannot be breached, for anyone, ever.

4.15.2013

We're On Your Side

My teenage years were hard.  I entered them with little to no resources for taking care of myself emotionally, for recognizing and protecting myself from people who would use me, manipulate me, disrespect my personal boundaries and treat me horribly.  I sought out attention from my peers, however I could obtain it, and was desperate for anything that resembled affection.  I was also in a lot of pain, felt isolated and worthless, and sought to numb all of those feelings with substances.

It's a wonder I survived those years. 

I came out of it rather early, and somewhat painfully, around fifteen.  I had a life-altering moment in which I realized, in a crystallizing epiphany, that the person who would ultimately live the consequences of all of my choices was not any of the people who were telling me what to do or that they knew better than I did what was best for me.  It was me.  I alone would have to live out the effects of these decisions.  And therefore no one - No. One. - had the authority to tell me how I should live my life.

This was the beginning of a long road of learning what it meant to be a successful, happy human.  A road I'm still discovering and building.

There's something important that I want my kids to hear, so I've started to say it to them, because the older one is eight, and soon things will start to show up in his life that carry more consequences, more traps, more risks for screwing up.  I want them to hear that their stepdad and I are on their side.  I said it to them the other day.  No matter what they had done, no matter how upset it might make me to hear about it, we're always here to help them.  They can count on us.  We will comfort them.  We will protect them.  We will be on their side.  Always.

One of my biggest fears as they grow older is the emergence of a space between us where I become on the outside of their lives, of what's happening to them, inside of them, and that I'm not even aware of how large this space has become.  I know that there will be some space.  It's a necessary part of becoming an adult.  But I want to be sure that if something happens to them that really scares them, no matter how ashamed they feel about it or how badly they think they screwed up, that they will come to us, because they will know that they don't have to carry it alone.  So I've started telling them now, and trying to practice good empathetic listening, and staying calm and non-judging when little things go wrong, so that when big things go wrong later, they'll still come to us. 

When I was a teenager, people already talked about how different and more dangerous the world was for my generation - AIDS, cocaine, gangs, and the explosion of pornography with cable tv and VHS recording all preyed upon the future of youth.  And that was before the internet.  Before this insane proliferation of guns in homes and purses and car glove compartments.  Before Mexican cartels moved into our neighborhoods.  Before human traficking and forced prostitution warranted their own budgets and departments in local crime enforcement.  Before organizations dedicated solely to protecting and advocating for child victims of sexual abuse even existed.

So besides keeping the computers in the family room, talking with them about how to choose their friends, teaching them bit by bit that there are dangers out there that they need to watch out for and avoid, I also want to add in, and if (when) you screw up, come to us.  Whatever pain you are in, we are your parents, we are strong, let us carry it with you and help you through it.  We will listen.  We care.  We will always be on your side.

I hope and pray that by the time they become teenagers, the bridge we have built will be strong and familiar enough that they will meet us on it, by habit, no matter how large the spaces between us have become.

5.12.2012

C-Change in How We Eat

There have been significant changes in my life and in the kids' lives, good changes. Healing. Rebuidling. Love carefully, gently, patiently stitching a new family together. I got married. To a man the kids adore - they call him "Woogie". He's been with us through everything. About a year ago the kids stopped calling their Dad "Daddy" and instead started referring to him by his name when we talked about him. Sometimes it felt like they were making a point of saying something about him just to hear themselves call him by his name, to feel the word inside their mouths. And they didn't really know what to call my then-boyfriend. They had grown to love him, to the point that calling him by his name didn't seem right. But "Daddy" wasn't available. The person who was the one person who that name was for is gone. Painfully. They won't give that name to another, ever. So, Woogie. He's good with it. I'm good with it. We're all good with it.

Since our marriage, we have both lost weight. Not really trying, but we watched "Forks Over Knives". We have been flirting with going vegetarian, maybe even vegan, for a while now. We watched "Food, Inc.", and affirmed that we would only eat local, farm-raised, locally slaughtered and butchered meat. Then came "Forks Over Knives". The mountain of research and data demonstrating the terrible health effects of animal protein. The multiple cases of dramatically ill individuals, some whose doctors had given up on them and told them to prepare to die, recovering healthy, vital lives simply by changing to a plant-based diet of whole foods. It was stunning.

When you have your kids a little later in life, the idea of longevity changes from a nice thing to do for yourself to an imperative for your kids (and your grandkids, should you be so blessed). And if one parent has already died, well, you can't help but feel like you have to be that much more stable, that much stronger, that much healthier and present and available. Because you do. In addition to planning on running a marathon next February, I'm trying to change my body's chemistry. Not that it was bad to begin with. I had low blood pressure, good weight, excellent cholesterol. But I'm 43, and I want to live to be 100. Am I jinxing myself saying that out loud? I don't see any reason, short of the statistical things like getting hit by a drunk driver, why I shouldn't stay strong, active and healthy for a long, long time.

So we're making the change to being vegetarians with a view toward vegan, and I'm realizing that I'm having to start over in the kitchen in many ways. When you eat meat, making dinner is actually easier. Or right now it seems so. I could throw a piece of meat in the oven or the skillet, whether it was tilapia, chicken legs, brisket - add a quick salad, a veggie, and we were done. I didn't have to think about it much.

Now, because it's new, I have to think about it.  And it seems like there's more prep work in vegetarian cooking.  More things to chop.  More grains to cook.  Things to roast, blend, soak.  I'm following two guiding principles - not to rely on meat substitutes (I'm trying to stay away from tofu and tempeh), and not to put too many ingredients into any one dish.  There's lentil loaf and ratatouille, which necessarily require a lot of ingredients, but other than that, I'm trying to keep it simple. 

Tonight's dinner, for example, was a salad of cantaloupe and mango with vanilla soy yogurt, a kale-potato pie, and a carrot-quinoa side.  There were different flavors on the plate, which helps the kids, but each dish was very simple.  The pie had 6 ingredients (crust, kale, potatoes, bread crumbs, parmesan, olive oil), but was still very simple.  I plan to start posting some of the meals and recipes, as I've done before, but I'm realizing that there's a lot of room for creativity in vegetarian cooking, and I want to have a place to write down what I've cooked so I won't forget the dishes later.  The other night we had grilled grape tomatoes with a canellini bean sauce that came out very nice.  I don't want to forget that one either.

And, um, I know I have a few followers on this blog.  It means a lot to me to know you're there.  This is the place where I've put some of my most personal thoughts and difficult times, and you have been 100% supportive, and you didn't have to be.  We have been through a few more milestones and hoops that may help someone else who is a caregiver to a child coping with the loss of a parent.  But I just wanted to say "thank you".  And I hope I can give back here, hopefully sharing some bit of information or lesson learned that helps someone else.

There is nothing to do but love everyone.

3.02.2012

The Universe Has Answers

Every now and then I sit down, close my eyes, clear my head, and have a conversation with what I'll call my Higher Self. You can call it Joe. Or Edna. Whatever. Doesn't matter. The thing is, I have learned, if I ask questions, I get answers. One time I wrote the conversation down in a Word file, then forgot about it. I rediscover that file every few years. Today I found it again, and decided it was time to send these answers out there. Just because. Someone out there besides me is supposed to read this right now. You know who you are.

From May 6, 2003:

Will there ever be peace in the world?
Yes.

Why are there so many wars?
Because you have not yet found yourselves.

What do you mean?
You are lost.

How do we find ourselves?
Look inside.

Do you mean that we should be more introspective?
No. If you look inside you will find all of your selves there. Until you recognize others as yourself you are lost.

One day we will all find ourselves?
It is the inevitable destiny. It is not guaranteed to be peaceful.

So you mean that we could destroy ourselves to achieve peace?
That’s one way.

How do we achieve peace with ourselves individually?
Accept who you are right now.

What if who I am right now is a terrible person?
Then accept that.

Shouldn’t I try to be a better person?
Sure. And the first step is to accept that right now you are a terrible person.

How many lives do we have?
For your purposes, one.

Why have you qualified your answer?
Because you shouldn’t distract yourself with the possibility of other lives. Just focus on this one now.

Will you ever grow tired of answering these questions?
I have no concept for “grow tired”.

10.26.2011

Seriously, How Do They Do It

Let me just tell you right now, folks. You families who work, have your kids in activities, volunteer, go to church, stay fit and healthy and keep up with your friends and families, I have no idea how you do it. Really. Do you have a personal assistant? Do you have bologna sandwiches for dinner every night? Secret robot clones?

If I were to map out how well I feel like I fill each of those roles, it would look like this (percentages reflect how well I'm doing compared to how well I wish I was doing):

Work: 73% (writing isn't getting the attention I wish it was; I'm having issues with procrastination, like right now)
Kids activities: 90% (they do plenty, but I feel like I'm a little low on the playdate scale)
Volunteer: 50% (I'm pretty active at the school, but I wish I was more active in my neighborhood and with at-risk youth)
Go to church: 5% (I'm eyeing the Unitarian church but haven't gone yet; I still get 5% for teaching the kids meditation and prayer and having conversations about God)
Stay fit: 10% (I still eat pretty healthy, but I'm not excercising at all right now except for the playing with the kids and Sunday family hike with the dog)
Keep up with friends: 20% (I don't even have time to keep up on FB; I'm not sure why I've given myself even 20% here)

When I pick up the kids at school I see other parents who have kids as young as mine, maybe one or two more than I have, and I know their kids are great and happy, I've seen them doing the heavy-lifting sort of volunteering around the school, I know they go to church, have careers, and active social lives to boot.

My hat's off to you if you're one of these people. You are a force of nature.

8.17.2011

Drawing the Line

Tonight I was trying to get the kids to bed a little early because the boy child had us up at 5:30 this morning with an upset stomach and ended up staying home from school. He threw up once around noon, then felt much better. But still, a little extra rest seemed a good idea. So I got baths done fast, he was helpful as far as getting himself dried off, changed into pajamas, and teeth brushed. He's 6.5, he's coming along with the self-care. Yay, boy child! I read them The Velvetten Rabbit, then told him to be in his bed with his head on his pillow by the time I was done tucking in his little sister. This is our routine. He knows he has about a minute.

I got to his room and he was out of bed nuzzling the dog instead. Okay, I said, get into bed. But I want a hug and a kiss, he said. You weren't in bed like you were supposed to be, said I.

After which followed the most god-awful fit he's thrown in a long, long time. He screamed that it wasn't fair, yelled at me trying to negotiate, that it was just this one time. He even offered to pay me to give him his hug and kiss goodnight. That really floored me. I told him it wasn't fair for him to expect to get what he wants when he doesn't do his part and do what he's supposed to. I told him that I loved him very much, and because I loved him I wanted him to learn that his choices had consequences (something we're working on). I walked away to do the dishes while the crying and arguing continued. After ten minutes of loud carrying on I yelled from the kitchen that was ENOUGH. He had really worked himself up into a lather. At one point I was concerned he was going to throw up again and had to take him to the toilet in case. I had to tell him to breathe, to settle himself down. It was awful.

Part of me is observing, saying "Egads, woman, are you really taking a stand over this?" And then the other part of me is saying, he chose to do something other than what he was supposed to do, and there's a consequence. And better he learn that now, over the relatively small matter of getting his hug and kiss at bedtime, than later over the larger matter of, say, getting into the car of a friend who's been drinking.

But CHEESE AND SPRINKLES what a FIT! He hasn't had one of those in a very, very long time. It's been a couple of hours now, and I've mostly recovered, but it was bad. When he was finally calm and settled, I did walk in and asked him what he learned tonight, and he gave all the right answers, including about how wrong throwing that kind of a fit was (the epic fit lost him a favorite video game for a week). Then I gave him a brief hug and kiss and told him to go to bed. I hope that wasn't wrong. It felt like it would be okay then. I just couldn't do it while the fit was raging and inadvertently reward his out of control reaction.

I don't know if I'm drawing the line in the right place at the right time for the right "size" infraction. I picture the boy child twenty years from now in a support group for survivors of childhood trauma saying, my mom didn't give me a hug and a kiss at night if I wasn't in bed with my head on the pillow. Then I think, if that's the worst he could come up with at a meeting like that, then we're doing okay.

Deep breath. This pareting thing is so hard. It kicks my ass every day and then serves it back to me with a sassy gleam in its eye, reminding me how little I know, how inadequate I am for this job, that I volunteered for this, that I will keep showing up every moment no matter what because I love those kids more than heaven, more than my body can contain, more than I can hold without cracking sometimes. And because I never understood how my parents loved me until I became a parent, I also know that they won't understand how much they are loved either, until they step onto this path themselves one day.

7.14.2011

Goodbye, Garden

We are experiencing the worst drought in recorded history. It's official.

I've stopped watering anything except for the small flat of strawberries, which gets one gallon each day. The tomatoes, carrots, zucchini, okra, cantaloupe, beans, leeks, peppers - they were just hanging on in the heat, working too hard to stay alive to produce any fruit. Even the soaker hose did nothing for them. I let them go.

It's strange that our fallow season is the summer, when other places on our side of the equator are busy with full harvests, canning and freezing in full swing. In august I'll start the seeds for the fall garden, then set them out in mid-september and pray the young plants hold on through the remaining heat until the first cool relief arrives near the end of the month.

I've only been gardening for a few years. I'm a newbie. I know so little, and the Austin climate is unpredictable and frequently harsh. One memorable garden was innundated in June with too much rain and never recovered. I have fantasies of someday raising chickens and goats, and hunting for deer. I miss living off the land, even though I never have. It feels like coming home to get back into relationship with the earth and the animals I share it with.

I'm fortunate to have a few mature pecan trees on my land, and my neighbor has a couple of fig trees that, in less drought-stricken times, kindly drop a bounty of fruit on my side of the fence. Is it possible to be a homesteader in modern times? Can I learn to knit without gaping holes and get used to the crispy feel of laundry hand-washed and dried on the line? And how can I rationalize the time taken to live simply when I have a hard-won legal career that now pays a handsome hourly rate? It's difficult and sometimes just funny, walking between both worlds simultaneously, and they both provide needed and important sustenance.

I was reading a friend's blog describing her family's ongoing adventures in learning the difference between "want" and "need". They have taken the journey to heart, giving away their belongings and setting out on the open road, currently farming and homesteading in Kit Carson National Forest in New Mexico. Part of me feels like I have to make a radical change like that to be able to live my values. Then part of me says that wherever I go, I take me with me, and I might as well learn to live my values where I am.

Drought does this, leads one to ponder what's important as everything around you turns brown, struggles, succumbs. It is a time to go without. A time to remember to be grateful for what we have. A time to surrender.

6.06.2011

My Dinner With Buddha

Tonight at dinner the cub told me, "You're amazing, mommy, just the way you are." Took my breath away, humbled me and amazed me. I told him thank you. A few minutes later he said, "You'll be amazing forever, mommy. Even when you're angry."

That one went straight to my heart. These were powerful words, coming from my son, with whom I'd been short and impatient that morning due to a terrible lack of sleep and feeling overwhelmed by my too successful too fast law practice. In a moment I saw myself with forgiveness, as a human, flawed, imperfect, and yet not a bad person.

I told him that was a very compassionate thing to say. He asked me what "compassionate" meant, and I told him it meant full of loving and kindness. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

I had been feeling low for being quick to anger this morning, and my kid just reminded me of all the things that I tell them - it's okay to be angry, everyone gets mad, getting mad doesn't make you a bad person - it's how you behave when you're mad that matters. It's important to feel all your feelings, even the difficult ones.

I thanked him again and told him I'd been feeling pretty bad for how I'd been angry that morning, and for reminding me that everyone gets angry and getting angry is okay. And I told him that when I became angry, it was my problem, not his. He always likes that part.

No one deserves love like this. But we get it anyway. For me, that's the miracle of life in a nutshell. We didn't earn the right to breathe, to enjoy the pleasure of a thinking and reasoning mind, to see colors, to hear music, to feel a bracing cold breeze, to feel tree bark under our fingertips, to hear our kids tell us they love us. But we may get these things anyway.

Sunday I was inspired by an interview with Krishna Das to have a conversation with Griffin about God dwelling within him as him, and within everyone as that person.

I don't know where this kid is headed, but I'm so blessed to get to be beside him for some of it.