Your Mother is Your First Guru

Those are words I will never forget. I first heard them in 2007, while studying under Shri Yogi Hari. As a fairly new mother of two children, it was like music to my ears, but what struck me most was I had a new perspective on my mother. In the past, I had focused all of the things she didn't "know" and the challenges I faced with my mother throughout my teen and early adult years.  In what ways was my mother my wise, spiritual teacher?

Truthfully, she really didn't talk too much about "God" to me, in part because her 1950's strict Catholic education left a bad taste in her mouth. Although I did once convince her and my dad to take me to a Baptist church for a couple of years, but the "no dancing" rule and general hypocrisy of fellow churchgoers became a turn off and we stopped.

No, my spiritual journey was self directed... or was it?

My mother taught me a lot explicitly:

No matter what you accomplish, you are never better than anyone.
Share.
Be helpful to the elderly.
Education first. Boys later.
It's okay to fail, as long as you did your best. 
Read.
Always better yourself.
Try different things. 
Don't listen to what the other kids say. You be your own person.

But as I deeply reflect back on my childhood years, I think her best teachings came through her Being:

My mother was slow to anger.
She was patient. It always amazed me how she could wait in the longest line up and never become restless. EVER.
She was playful and often joked around with me.
She taught me it was okay to cry. "Get it all out"  she would say to me in moments of distress.
She loved me well. Cuddles. Hugs. Kisses. She would always say to me "I love you more than life itself." As a grown woman, I can say,  I believe her. 

It has been decades since I've been able to be with my mother for Mother's Day because of her strict work schedule, but today I will be able to honour my first guru, as you do the same for yours.

Happy Mother's Day.

A Time to Heal

June may have been about tying up lose ends, but July was definitely about healing. I spent most of my energy focusing on my mom, who had a disc removed from from her back. We've had a rocky road, she and I, but the last decade has been good and nothing felt more important and right than being of service to my mom during her time of need.

Like any significant moment in life where you have the luxury of advance notice of what it is about to happen, you enter the experience thinking you are prepared. The left brain likes to try to keep life fitting perfectly in a lovely little box and may even trick you into believing it is succeeding. But by the end of the experience, you realize there were many things you did not account for, like emotions, which are not so tidy.

When I met my mother in the elevator once she was released from the recovery room, I didn't anticipate the flood of emotion I experienced when I saw her strapped onto the hospital gurney with tubes sticking out of her. I knew she was okay, but there was something about seeing her so vulnerable that suddenly made me feel vulnerable as well and I stayed that way until my time taking care of her was over.

My mom has had a difficult life. I could go into how much it had to do with choice versus circumstance, but it doesn't matter. All I know is the woman I call my mother is a driving force in my life. She poured her heart and soul into me and gave me the wings she didn't have. But it had been a while since I had stepped into her world for more than 48 hours. As happy as I was with how far we had come, we apparently had more headway to make.

I cleaned and cleaned my mom's tiny basement apartment and was saddened that my mother didn't take better care of her living space, but I cleaned anyways... with love. It wasn't long before my expectations of cleanliness turned into a realization that I was cleaning up somebody else's dirt and it wasn't my mom's.  No, the dirt I was cleaning up belonged to the people in my mother's past who demeaned and abused her instead of giving her the love that she and every human being deserves.No, you're not unlovable, Mom. I love you and those days are over, but I know the battle still rages on in your head.

My Mom:)

I served her breakfast, lunch and dinner every day and felt good knowing that she was eating fresh, healthy food. We played a constant game of cat and mouse every time she would try to sneak a cigarette against her doctor's orders. I sought her approval as I went through her apartment and purged items that were either not being used or too dusty and stained with cigarette smoke to keep. We laughed at the giant cookbook by Good Housekeeping that I used to love looking at over and over as a child. When I was little, I used to pretend I was royalty and order the dishes for my feast by pointing to the pictures of delicious gourmet fare. When I made her laugh, our connection felt timeless and boundless and every night ended with a hug and a kiss goodnight.

Then it came time for me to leave and unlike my usual shorter visits, it was harder to say goodbye this time. The two hour drive home provided me with the space to process my visit and led me to the realization that the time spent with my mom wasn't just about her healing; it was also about our healing.

Not Too Hard, Not Too Easy

This time last year, my life was very different. I was working full time and life was going by way too fast. (I told my neighbour I loved him, remember?)  The real wake up call came when I realized a whole school year had almost passed and I didn't know who my children's teachers were– a hard pill to swallow being a former educator.

We had stopped eating fresh, slow-cooked meals because frozen, pre-cooked meals and (gulp) fast food had become more convenient. I remember one incident when my best friend was taking care of my girls after school. She drove them both to gymnastics for me and I later met up with them after work. I was wild-eyed and frantic, holding a bag of McDonald's food in my hand for dinner. I was on the verge of tears when I shook the bag at her and said "This is not how I want to live! This is NOT okay!" She and I laugh about it today, but that moment was a tell-tale sign I was living out of alignment with my values. I was suffering because of it and so was the rest of my family.

A year ago, we spent a lot of money on babysitting and if it weren't for teaching yoga, I would not have had any form of regular exercise because it was much harder to bail on 20 people who were waiting for me at the gym than it was to give in to the weight of being too tired. Speaking of  exercise and being too tired, I missed my husband and he missed me.

I finally gave myself my no-fail "when-I-take-my-last-breath-will-I-have-any-regrets" test and decided I had many regrets on the horizon if I didn't make some changes soon. I  didn't want to look up one day to see my daughters going off to university and know I wasn't there for them when I could've been. I didn't want to see my husband and I grow apart because I was too busy to work on our relationship. I needed to create more balance in my life.

Last May, I made the move to work only part-time. I'm making less money, but I've become richer in other ways and I am now enjoying the fruits of my decision.We're eating healthier. I can sit with my girls when they do their homework. I volunteer once a week in their classrooms and I'm involved with the school council. My husband and I laugh together every day and his odds of getting lucky have increased dramatically. I have room to express my creativity and better serve my community. Balance has been restored and we are all much happier.

Don't get me wrong, I still have busy phases. In fact, I'm in the middle of one right now; hence the single blog post for this month. Even so, I have more control of the flow of "busy-ness" in my life and it's a much more sustainable model. In Eastern philosophy it is recommended that life should not be too hard or too easy, but in the middle. I've found my middle... for now. How about you?

Love Thyself Like No Other

To My Daughters:

I will do my best to love you,
but in the end, no one will know how to love you like you.
Because I am your parent and you are my child
my best intentions will by your mind translate into false expectations
and an inner dialogue I would never wish upon you

And it will follow you, that dialogue, into every romantic relationship
but in the end, no one will know how to love you like you
You will play silly games, looking for another to fulfill you
all the while blinded to the ways you are loved because you know what
you need, but you won't give it to yourself

And you will grow frustrated, tempting to believe that you are unlovable
but in the end, no one will know how to love you like you
Then you will remember what I told you and correct that inner voice
 to sound like a mother, a sister, a best friend and a lover
 creating compassion within and opening your eyes to the self-love you've been missing


And one day, you will finally realize the Truth
That no one will love you like I love you

Didn't Anyone Tell You About the Closet?

When I first met my husband, 15 years ago, I told him back then that as long as he was with me, he would never love the same person twice. Even as a 21 year old, I had consciously planned to evolve for the rest of my life, which meant my husband has grown accustomed to trying new things and observing me challenging myself in mind, body and soul.

Just last week, we celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. At times, I didn't know if celebrating a decade of marriage would be a reality for us. Every marriage goes through it and from what I can see, it's a perfectly natural and good thing.

My husband and I met when we were 15 years younger. Our priorities were very different and we were without children. Fast forward to our current place on the timeline and neither one of us is remotely the same person we were back then, regardless if we were 'evolving consciously' or not. Yet, the sticky web of dynamics attempts to pull us into ways of interacting and Being that no longer serves us... and so the bumpy ride begins. If only a voice had said, "Hold on tight because this is the first ditch you vowed to dig yourselves out of when you said 'for better or for worse'".

I can understand how so many marriages dissolve or how affairs happen because let me tell you, that ditch is bleak. But in our case, after we took a closer look we found we weren't in a ditch at all. Rather, we were in our matrimonial closet of blames, hurts and ideals; all we had to do was open the door and clean the mess up. A lot had to go, but some treasures just needed to be dusted off and put to good use again. It took a few years, some emotional oscillating, new boundary setting, open and raw discussions and at last, fresh eyes to see each other with. It was like we entered a chrysalis together and were thrown off by the darkness and the losing of our form without realizing all the while we were shedding our old selves as a couple. Thankfully, we made it through.

After having gone through all of this and without being so naive as to think it will only happen once, we cannot deny our rich history together or that the depth of our love for each other has since expanded. We feel lighter and wiser. We acknowledge we don't know what our future will bring, but have a healthy awareness that the relationship we cultivate today will shape the one we have tomorrow.

And we now know it's better to clean out our closet on a regular basis than it is to wait until another decade passes.