Wednesday, July 27, 2011

The Tenor of the Days

    As the Mama of a soon to be five year old, you hear yourself talking, ahem, a lot.  Often, I have the feeling that I am the only one who hears me when I talk, but that is a side issue.  I spend a great deal of time directing my daughter.  What I mean by that is telling her what to do, what not to do, and in some sense, how to be.  The other day we were having an extended . . . we will call it a conversation . . . about picking up and putting away.  At some point she asked me if I liked her. 
    Hello.
    As a matter of fact, I do like her.  I told her this.  We talked about how it feels to pick up and put away our toys. (We both don’t love it.)  Everybody loves everybody.  Next topic.  It got me to thinking though.  If I am involved in a day in and day out conversation with my daughter about how to be, is what I most want her to know being communicated?
    I’m not talking about saying, “I love you” twenty five times a day.   Nothing wrong with saying the words, but I think our deepest sense of being loved and being worthy of it comes to us more subtly and much more powerfully than that.  Earlier this year, I heard Toni Morrison speaking about raising her children.  She said that whenever her child entered the room and she looked at him, she wanted her fundamental love and acceptance of him to be present in her eyes.  Think about that.
    For me, it means remaining connected to my deepest regard for my daughter even as we disagree, experience frustration or whatever else.  What a thing.  I’ve been trying it here lately – not always easy.  It ends up being a mindfulness practice.  I hear myself speaking, call to mind my intention to stay connected, and my energy changes.  I think my tone changes.  I am hoping this speaks to the deepest part of her.
        The most interesting part of this practice is how I feel when I am doing it. I feel happier when I am presencing my regard for my child.  In truth, I feel more connected to the Divine.  The Divine in me connects to the Divine in you.  And please use your inside voice when we’re in the library.

1 comment:

  1. I love this thoughtfulness.
    "You are my favorite person. Please pick up your bey Blades so I don't step on them."
    "I love your smile, but please use your napkin, not my shirt."

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