3 Little Gurus

By
Laurie
 – May 9, 2013Posted in: The Sanctuary

“The greatest advantage of not having children must be that you can go on believing that you are a nice person. Once you have children, you realize how wars start.” Fay Weldon

This week, I’m especially mindful of the familial relationships and how they can challenge our spiritual growth more than any other type of relationship that exists. Why are the most intimate relationships in our lives the ones that can challenge our limits of kindness and compassion? Why is it that the people we really love and feel most comfortable with are often the very people we vent to and lose patience with the most? Ram Das said it well,“If you think you are so enlightened, go and spend a week with your parents.”

I offer two versions of motherhood to my kids. One boasts a mom who is open and honest, warm and cuddly. She laughs and listens. She bakes cookies and takes kids on hikes. The other parallel universe contains the motherhood version of me as a shrieking woman at her wit’s end, insisting that everyone around her settle down and be quiet. And tidy. Yes — tidy, quiet and happy — at all times. Somehow I expect everyone around me to know how to do that, even though I am not able to model it myself. The two realities seem so separate, so contradictory to each other. Yet both are real.

As the school year closes in and my kids are at each others throats, I wonder — how will I survive the summer? How will I bring forth the healthiest version of me playing mother? How can I stay in the present moment, when it sucks? Why would I want to be present when there is screaming and fighting and whining and begging?

At times like this I go into fantasy mode. It goes like this. I am a prisoner. I live in a small cell with no possessions, just a mattress and a toilet in the corner. There are no clothing choices, no make up — just jeans and an issued shirt. The food is terrible and I am able to release my foodie cravings. And – it is heaven. I meditate daily and spent an hour in the weight room, and give service making license plates as if they were God’s art. If I’m lucky, I get put in solitary confinement where it’s just myself. Oh, beloved silence and stillness.

You know it’s bad when your fantasy is prison.

The yogis of old took a similar route, a Vedantic and austere approach to their practice. They believed in transcending the limitations and constraints of the physical world. They saw the body and the world as an impermanent illusion to be overcome. Their practices included incredible physical deprivations and an austere lifestyle in a remote hut or jungle dwelling. No significant other. No children. No job, no money. No distractions of that nature.

Somewhere along the line the householders (ie: regular people) wanted in. They wanted to play at this game of spiritual evolution too, but they weren’t willing to give it all up. They didn’t see the typical lifestyle as something to be relinquished, or the body as something that had to be overcome. They saw regular life as the very tools to transform. And voila – tantra was born.

Tantra is a spiritual approach that eschews dualism. Tantric practitioners believe that the body is not something to be transcended, but something to be experienced and harnessed. This philosophy offers a way to go deeper into practice, using the very mundane interactions of family, sexual relationship, eating, moving, working, etc – as sacred spiritual practices. That daily life can actually move us deeply toward moksha (liberation) and self-realization — should we choose to use them wisely.

That sounds so romantic. I read about it and see rainbows and unicorns and I am inspired to honor my children as the little wise gurus that they are and I see life moving gracefully through me. I recognize that the kids are God incarnate, here to push me and refine me. And, with all that beauty in my heart, and a re-dedication to my practice, I inevitably — am yelling at the little buggers five minutes later.

How can I bridge the gap between these two versions of parenthood? How I avoid splitting into schizophrenically from the loving mom one minute and crazy shrew the next? The only way I see to do it is to break down the myth of the good and bad parent. To throw away the idea that “good” moms never yell or get frustrated, and that kids should always tow the line. The two versions of motherhood I offer are not separate entities – they are one whole.

The truth? Good parents lose it one minute and pull it together the next. Time passes and we see ways to parent better. We learn to give up control and live a bit more gracefully. The truth is, it’s a process, it’s a practice. We can give up the need for control and re-frame our reality. The kids fight because that is what kids do. They make messes, they talk back, they forget their homework and blame it on someone else. They get bored. They whine. And we, as parents – forget again to embrace it all, get frustrated and begin back at square one. All is as it should be.

Anais Nin said it best: “We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.” This gives me a greater sense of compassion, for myself, my spouse, my mother and father, and my children.

When I see it this way, I am able to embrace the mess and the chaos as normal and healthy. I can still work with it to improve it, and with less resistance, the kids are more likely to jump aboard and help. I can see the tough days of summer as the ultimate opportunity for ashram life, non-typical as it may be. Every time my daughter leaves a messy pile behind her or shrieks at her brother, I can view it as a bell ringing in the monastery to pay attention and shift gears. Perhaps I can embrace what is happening — the good, the bad, and the ugly — and resist less.

And when I can’t, I remember Thich Nhat Hanh’s meditation mantra. In fact, I may just may need to tattoo it on my hand:

Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in.
Breathing out, I know that I am breathing out.

Parenting is a challenge! What are your best techniques for turning the minivan into a monastery?

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