I’m not sure what tastes better than a big old bite of smug certainty. Go ahead, try to think of something. Chocolate? No. Artisan-roasted coffee? Uh uh (although my best friend does roast some amaaaazing coffee). A field of wildflowers in an alpine meadow? Not even. Watching a hummingbird drink nectar from a wildflower in an alpine meadow while sipping an artisan-roasted coffee and eating fair-trade chocolate? With fresh, organic raspberries? Hmm… that might be about on par with the deliciousness of smug certainty, but I do not believe it surpasses it. Certainty says, “do x and y will happen.” It says, “Do z and q will not happen.” It says, “oh, that bad thing only happened to you (other person/other people/other country) because you did x.” It feels superior because y has happened, because q has not happened, because of doing all the things. You know, the things you are supposed to do? To earn merit in heaven/the mommy forums/your family/your social group/on facebook/in the blogosphere? You know, the things you are not supposed to do? (Which hugely vary depending…
This hack works for any kind of thinking/emotional pattern that you would like to stop. It doesn’t automatically stop, of course, but every time we gain awareness of our thinking, we are no longer entranced into believing everything our thoughts say. And thank God! Because while our thoughts might be brilliant while under the influence of caffeine/good art/excellent music, they can also lead us oh so very astray and make us completely miserable…
I was thinking about my love for my daughters…how fierce it is. How it permeates my being, exists in every particle of their beings, how it made them and grew them and nourishes them. I inhale love on the scent of their skin, their downy hair, their big doe eyes, their drowsy heads on my shoulders. It has made me into a person who sacrifices, who protects, who keeps vigil over sick children with a soft voice and a cool hand to feverish foreheads. It is fierce and present in each moment I breathe, when they are with me as well as when I’m working, pumping milk for my baby and trying to teach my clients about this force I don’t understand, which moves us and molds us. And someday soon, that fierce, tight, protective love will have to move and be molded as well. It will have to soften, open, become pliant and yielding. It will have to become a love that allows, a love that trusts, a love that lets go. I will have to become a person who allows, who trusts, who lets go. That’s the game, isn’…
Awareness is like water. It dissolves everything it touches, immediately or in time. People often refer to this quality as being like a fire, or a furnace, burning up all our illusions. And sometimes it is dramatic like that, painful like that, intense and hot like that. Other times, it’s just like like slow rain. Dissolving stone, dissolving dirt, dissolving me. By awareness, I mean that noticing that notices and observes, without commentary or judgement. A very simple example of how this works is seen in the first meditation technique usually taught to beginners: focus on your breath (or something or other), and when thoughts come by, simply notice them, and label them, “thinking.” If you haven’t tried this before, give it a go. Follow the breath for 3 rounds of inhaling and exhaling. Thoughts popping up? Notice. Try to notice each thought the moment it appears. Label it, “thinking.” Now where did it go? It’s gone. Oh! There it is. It’s back. Now gone again. Ah, there’s a new thought. “Thinking.” Bam. That’s called meditating. It’s also called awareness…
When something terrible happens to someone you love dearly, who most certainly does not deserve it (or to you for that matter) how do you explain it to yourself? How do you prevent yourself from falling into a nihilistic hellhole? If you are like me and most other human beings, it is probably through the stories you tell yourself about why it happened.
So why does bad stuff happen to good people…
“Becoming a parent brings you this sadness you never would have known otherwise,” said a dear friend to me on the phone, as I pushed my toddler in her stroller through the sharp wind and shushed my newborn baby, who was zipped up inside my coat in her carrier. And I felt that delicious sense of recognition, of discovering someone else feels the way I feel. And while I don’t wish sadness upon my friends, it is incredible to have a peek into someone else’s tangled thoughts and feelings and find they look a little bit like mine. Before I became a parent, people told me that motherhood would open me up to more joy than I thought possible. But no one mentioned it would also hurt—that the hard times would hurt and the joy itself would hurt, in an aching, stretching sort of way. Kind of like the growing pains of childhood, or the opening pains of early labor, when it’s more of a dull ache. Like when I crawl into my toddler’s bed to wake her up in the morning, and she wraps her arms around…
Warrior Girl is 2 years and 3 months old now, and as I prepare for her sister’s upcoming birth, (did I mention we’re having a GIRL?!?) memories of Warrior Girl’s birth are fresh on my mind. It was one of the most incredible days of my life, because it was the day I met my daughter and the day I became a mother. But in addition to that, part of what was incredible was the actual process of giving birth. Reader beware: the story below contains talk of cervix, dilation, etc. Oh, and one F-bomb. Because birth is messy, people. Turn back now if you don’t want the details. *** My water broke at 11:30 pm on August 4th. It was the full-on gush that happens frequently in movies and much less frequently in real life. I was suddenly confronted with many of my fears about giving birth and remember vividly thinking What have I gotten myself into? I laid in bed that night analyzing every cramp and twinge, waiting for labor to start. Was that a contraction? What the hell does a contraction even feel like? I got a…
Speaking of mindfulness, I just got out of the shower and discovered I had only shaved one leg. And I have two. Legs, that is. On an unrelated note, also speaking of mindfulness, I opted to eat 5 mini-snickers after a pretty heavy therapy session the other day. But! I knew I was emotionally eating while I emotionally ate. Hence, mindfulness. Today, I also opted to be aware I was emotionally eating while I emotionally ate a large quantity of Lays and french onion dip. Then I demanded to my husband that he should let me unilaterally name our baby this amazing name I made up, which he thinks sounds like a brand of eye drops, and while we’re at it, he should also let me decorate our apartment exactly the way I want it with no input from him. As I said it, I knew I was being ridiculous. So yes, I was being pretty mindful. He laughed, which is the only kind response when your wife is getting a bit nutty and approaching the third trimester of pregnancy (are those two things related?). It’s so great to be a self-aware wreck. On…
“No regrets.” It’s a phrase I will probably never understand. All I think when I see a meme like this: this, or this is….seriously? For real, bro? There’s nothing in your past you wish you could change? On the one hand, there is the whole, “I ate 3 more tacos after I was full… no regrets” kind of no regrets. You know, or the “I danced ‘The Macarena’ in front of my entire office…no regrets” kind of no regrets. But what about times we have just plain screwed up? When I hear these inspirational quotes about how you should have no regrets, because your choices have made you who you are today, and mistakes are just lessons learned, I am left thinking, “yeah, but what about the impact our choices have on other people?” Yes, the other humans who inhabit this planet. We don’t live in a vacuum; our choices have consequences for us and for other people as well. If I could go back and change the ways I have hurt people, I would do it in…
Disclosure: some of the links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Thanks for supporting Home In Wonderland! When I was nearing time to give birth to Warrior Girl, they were going to induce me because labor hadn’t started some 12 hours after my water broke. Consequently, they had me lying in the bed hooked up to a fetal monitor. Nurses kept coming in to adjust things and check me, looking rushed and somewhat concerned. I hated it. I wasn’t even technically in labor, but I felt every little cramp and pain lying in that bed. Fortunately, I went into labor literally moments before they were about to induce me. Once they determined I didn’t have to be induced, I was out of bed like a rocket, power walking the halls like “I’m in labor ya’ll!” Some hours later, I was in the bathtub feeling calm and serene when I suddenly vomited multiple times in a row and felt overwhelmed with an energy that tore through me and made me feel…