Each moment is a new beginning. Each moment is fresh and new-- when I question what is troubling me, and find it unraveling to the perfection of nothingness, no absolutes, no solutions, no more fear, no more rules that override love, that obscure clear vision--just the perfection and silence of being.
Today, I wondered how I would move through my daughter's tears and clinging to me, yet again, at the preschool door, afraid that she wouldn't get the compassion and loving arms that I needed her to have from her teachers.
In working through my dis-ease, I've realized that I have a set of rules for those who interact with my children. They must adhere to these rules, or else.
In other words, in a moment I could forget everything they do for my child, and place them in the unjust category of threat to my child and to me. Can you get how we fulfill our own prophecies?--it can happen in a less than a second, with just the tiniest shift in perception--the tiniest fear!
The most telling phrases in my unquestioned thoughts? Afraid and I need:
..afraid my daughter wouldn't get the compassion and loving arms that I needed her to have.
You must wonder why I bother to write about something so obviously natural as wanting my child to be loved and taken care of. It is perfectly normal, right? It means I am a good mother, right?
Well, actually, no, not anymore. Even one painful thought is enough to contaminate all of me, to keep me from seeing; to hold me prisoner in darkness, all tied up, and closed off, violently held down, hearing the ominous laughing at my suffering.
Nope, I can't be okay with buying, in any form, that I do not have the power to break free. The least I can do is question-- find the opening--the space where the divine enters to heal my thoughts--to heal this world.
It hurts too much to close my heart to anyone, to not see their gifts, especially now that I recognize that it is all there to lead us back home, back to oneness--to see the face of God in myself, in all of us. ALL of us.
My thoughts were that I should be there to help my daughter pick up the pieces, that I should be there to help my daughter to handle what is being thrown at her very sensitive little self, just learning how to navigate emotions that seem to me sometimes too big for her to handle.
Thank God for the ability to question my thoughts. Thank you for Byron Katie's simple questions that have set me free this morning.
That simple question: Is it true?
Is it true that my daughter will not get what she needs?
It feels true.
Am I sure that it is true? as in airtight?
Of course, this opens up more questions, like how do I know what she needs?
Motherly instinct, you say? --doesn't really hold water when the instinct is based in fear.
How would I feel if I didn't have that thought that my daughter wouldn't get what she needs?
Here is the opener!
I would feel free to spend time in my present, without part of me still standing at her preschool door. I would be free to trust that my daughter is being given everything she needs, and not only that, I would trust that she has everything within her to handle any situation.
And the blessed turn around, when I tamper with my initial statement.
My daughter will not get what she needs, turns into I will not get what I need.
Is this true or truer than my original statement?
Truer! It is all about easing my fears. And of course, if I am stuck at the preschool door all day in my thoughts, I am pretty much unable to access my present moment, to give what I could give if I were free, living my life in the present. I will be distracted by my fears that my daughter can't make it on her own, and if she can't make it, I can't--nobody can. Something tells me that this is not what I need.
Another turn around. My daughter will get what she needs.
Is this true or truer than my original statement?
True! How do I know what is best for my daughter in this moment? I don't know that I really know what is best for her. I know that my fearful thoughts have a lot of demands, that put a lot of unrealistic expectations on people who are just doing the best they can. Do I really need to be afraid for her? Doesn't that limit her power? Doesn't that limit my ability to trust her living her life? Doesn't that limit my ability to live, when I am living my daughter's life, and not my own? If I can't trust that my daughter came in with all that she needs to be in this world, how can I trust that I have what I need--that any of us have? Thinking that I have control over her destiny, that I can somehow shape it with anything other than love? Honestly, am I more helpful to her full of fear, or full of the peace that comes with accessing a deeper place in myself that knows that there is more to this world than we can see.
Most importantly, I see how my challenging times have been my biggest gifts, my biggest teachers. They have shaped who I am. They have helped me to recognize my gifts. They have helped me to experience true peace. I wouldn't change one of my difficult moments.
Would I give my daughter the faith to move through her life with purpose, by knowing that there is no regret, only opening and learning, or would I teach her to be a victim?
No question what my legacy will be. What she does with what I teach her is her business, her lovely journey.
I leave it to her. I love her and I trust her experience more than my fearful interpretations of it.
If I can accept 'what is' for her, I can accept 'what is' for me, and in the space between I can see the beauty that I would have missed through the murky lens of fear.
I don't want to miss any more moments of my life stuck in fear. I want to be free to move about resting forever in the place of love, with the trust deepening withing me, that all that happens is for all of us.
We've all seen how horror can bring us together in love that transcends any bounds that exist in this world, and how suddenly rules change in the name of love. I challenge my own rules made of fear.
Yes, I love that there are always exceptions to the rules we feel we have to live by-- when people bend the rules and act out of love, when people see the ridiculous structures that were built to keep love out in the name of a shallow sort of protection.
I begin with me. I am about bending my own rules, and opening up and letting go of my fear, so, that I may see what is really happening, in clear space, when the truth is that we are all doing the best we can to move in this world.
I pray that in the end, our rules that govern are born from our experiences of the ones that have crashed, no longer able to hold their weight in their rigid and unstable structures, unable to hold us safely in the everlasting and indestructible bonds of unconditional love.
I rest there freely, this morning, and welcome the peace that comes from knowing that everything is happening as it should, that it is all okay, that every time I desire to know peace, I will be lead lovingly to it, and so will those I love--and in that I find heaven here and now.