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When things don’t feel quite right, we make adjustments. I have never been a go with the flow kind of gal. I have always wished I were. I get nervous if I feel like I might not reach an event or meeting within plenty of time to get comfortable. So much so, that I am sometimes as much as 20 minutes early for things. When my “routine” is interrupted, and I feel like something is getting left out of my day, I tend to feel dis-ease. When John sits in my seat at the kitchen table, it bugs me to death. I can sit in uncomfortableness and brood, or I can adjust. I have chosen to adjust.
The blue moon of Kentucky is no longer making me blue. I am now getting up at 6:30am to practice yoga and read a little before John and the girls are awake. I am amazed about how much it feels like it adds time to my day. I’ve not been trying to make Ivy nap. She slept about 45 minutes today on her own on the couch. I’m still exhausted, but feeling much more at ease. Waking at 6:30am is very hard for me. Our bed sleeps horribly, and my arms fall asleep at night and I have shoulder pain, so I don’t rest much. However, in a way it makes it easier to get on up. Our rooster is crowing his head off by that time anyway. So much of how we feel/react to things is a decision. I don’t think it is always a conscious one, but nevertheless, it is a decision.
My sweet Ivy at Parent/Child yoga.
I really think that most often we are hindered by our own blockages or walls. I have never been the mother that could pull out of the moment to figure out a less stressful way to deal with a situation. I’ve always been the mother looking back and hoping that one day I’d be the mindful mother. I think one day I will. One day soon. More often than not.
We see now that we do not live by acquiring, gaining, or achieving. We live by Grace;…
-Joel S. Goldsmith, The Infinite Way
This week I learned some things. I learned that peace starts inside. I learned that once we know better that negative reactions are a choice. Struggle in many ways is also a choice. I don’t know if readers of this blog come here to read about spirituality, yoga, or personal growth. I reckon most of you come here to read about Appalachia and mountain folks (if I go by my search engine hits), or copperhead snakes. But, this blog documents our lives, and at this point it is as much for me and my girls as it is for those reading. I’m putting the truth of our life out there into the regions of cyberspace and that is also a choice. When you visit here you are reading the journey of an Appalachian woman born and raised, whose family has been here for many generations. You are getting true Appalachia, folks. Is it how you thought it would be?
Thursday, I came home from the Cowan Creek Mountain Music School with the girls. Ivy hadn’t had a real nap since Monday. I laid her down since she fell asleep in the truck. I started my yoga practice as Deladis played. I needed this time. About ten minutes in, Ivy wakes up crying every breath. Nothing wrong, just not happy and tired. I try to continue to practice, hoping that she will soon get woke up enough to practice too or play. Then, the power goes out. It has been out so much this week. The wind blows and it is out for hours. 😦 It comes back on, and I restart my DVD. About two minutes later the power is out again. I lay down. Ivy grabs my head and shakes it back and forth. I feel my body tense. I feel myself wanting to cry. I begin to whine – “just a few minutes girls.” I was tired. I was all touched out. I was frustrated.
Inside, a voice spoke to me. STOP. This is not the way. Whatever I was perceiving as a wrong was not a wrong. It wasn’t the end of my world. I could whine and raise my voice, lament my ruined practice, or I could do something else. I called my mother to watch the girls and I went to yoga in town. I ran to yoga.
I met my needs and I met the girls needs with one decision that saved me a whole evening of being disheartened and aggravating to the girls. Five other women were at the studio that evening, each coming with their own reason to practice. Each coming with their own weight of the day, but all with a bit of joy and release in their hearts. It was a beautiful practice. We laughed. We relaxed. We loved. We released. I particularly enjoyed Lord of the Dance asana.
This photo can be found at http://yoga.lovetoknow.com/Lord_of_the_Dance_Pose
This is not me, but feel like my pose resembled this one. Yoga is not efforting. Yoga is not struggling. It is relying on what you know to free you to take the risk of stepping into the unknown. I can change bad habits. I can change my attitude. I can live with simple means in abundance of Grace. In Luke chapter 15 verse 31, the father of the prodigal son explains to his oldest son who remained with him, “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.” God, The Creator, The Universe, The Collective Unconscious, whatever name you have for the Supreme Existence/Being is always with us, even when we choose to separate ourselves. All that is, is ours. Not finite material things, but simple being. Very simple being. And that is enough. That is what is lasting into infinity.
I’m so excited because before I was so out of touch with options that in situations where it seemed that struggle was inevitable, I fell right into that way of being. I became struggle with all my heart and soul. I didn’t hear the Spirit within. I was deaf to the voice. I hear the voice now. Eventhough, it is still easier to fall into old patterns. I hear the voice. I hear it! I’m finding the yoga. The union. The living to the full capacity of who I am. I’m very excited about what that might mean for my life. What miserable ways of being I might be released from. Not that anything is any better, but that I am present.
Adding my new work to our daily schedule is already changing things up quite a bit. Not in a bad way though. I feel myself relaxing about things that worried me so much before, things that I took way to seriously. Sure, it has only been two days since the end of my training workshop and I am still riding that wave of pure joy, but the relaxation is very real.
I don’t know why. I suspect it is because I am finally paying attention to where my heart has been leading me for years. Not just the childbirth education, but actually listening to that part of me that has said, you’d really enjoy _____. Listening to that part of me instead of making decisions based on some “dream” idea of what our family life should look like, what makes a great parent, or how a grown woman can give to her community and children. What makes one a productive, satisfied individual? It definitely isn’t trying to adhere to someone else’s prescription of that idea. So far, I’m finding that giving in and listening to what your heart says, doing the leg work for yourself, is much more satisfying. No, it’s not going to look anything like what other people have found satisfying. We are all gifted differently. We are all unique, so it shouldn’t.
Yes, we may get ideas from one another. Of course, if something speaks to us, but is challenging, we should give it our best effort and time to see if it is something that is beneficial for us. But, if we are attempting something for our benefit and thus that of our family, and it is doing nothing but bringing discontentment, it is probably not a fit. There can be great satisfaction in a challenge and hard work, so I am learning to look for that satisfaction. For example, doing an hour of yoga everyday is a huge challenge. Finding the time for it in my day, trying to relax despite the bustle around me, and listening for that still small voice is anything but easy. Yet, while practicing, I feel satisfied. I feel like I have done something important, and in turn I feel happy for it. That is how you know that an idea is a good one. The work it takes isn’t always easy, but you continually have the feeling that it is right.
This morning, Deladis started drawing bodies on her figures and animals. Heaven on Earth by Sharifa Oppenheimer suggests that this is one of the first signs for academic readiness. However, for most children this won’t occur until around age 6 or 7. I watched Deladis’ glee as she showed her new accomplishment to her artist daddy, who in turn looks at me and says that his daughter is a genius. 🙂 I smile and think that it’s cute that Daddy gives such esteem to his little one. Then, Deladis looks at me and says, “This little girl cat is beautiful and this boy one is handsome.” Her mommy who thinks in words couldn’t help but be amazed and think maybe her daddy is really onto something. Does it mean she is ready for academics? I’m doubtful. Do I ignore this sign? Absolutely not. The recommendation for Waldorf education is no formal academics until age 6 or 7. Is that a strict rule to be adhered to in homeschool families? I don’t think so. I think it is something to deeply consider. I’m going to spend many weeks, perhaps months watching her cues… seeing where she leads me, and listening to my heart.
Our lives are changing. The road for me has been rocky, but some lessons are hard learned and should be. I’m glad for it. I’m really glad.
Please bear with me as I try to figure out what place this blog will have in my new schedule. I am going to try to still post regularly, but I am almost certain that things will change here a little bit as I am devoting time to different things. I hope you will continue to check back in and share your thoughts here.
In my twenties, I didn’t think much about self improvement. I would have laughed at anyone suggesting a self-help book. I read little on spirituality, and honestly didn’t have a clue where I fit in. I figured I was who I was by that time and I had to learn to endure the faults, the neurosis, and the walls that I had built for myself. What I did dwell on were the negative parts of my childhood. I couldn’t seem to move passed them, and I felt like I would need to muster all the strength I could to move on down the line. I also clung to the good parts of my childhood. They stuck to me – bittersweet, moments of bliss that were only to be glanced at here and there.
After becoming pregnant with Deladis, I realized that life was much more than existing in a past you can’t change. I realized that there were things I didn’t want to pass on to my daughter. Things that can be excused in families. All ___ (insert family name) are mule headed. Oh, you get that temper from your Uncle ___. You’re always depressed, just like your ____. Things that are chalked up as inherited personality traits, that can very well be negative if given the right circumstances, but given a different environment can be worked with and made into positives. Instead of saying, that’s who I am, it’s in the blood, we can work to stop the scars that are passed down through generations in families. Those scars don’t have to be a curse. The fact is, you don’t have to live with them anymore the moment you choose to see them for what they are and no longer choose to accept them. Not that it isn’t hard work through them, but acknowledgment that there is no power there to hold you.
I didn’t completely understand my great desire to become a better me after becoming a parent. I would catch little thoughts as they passed through my mind that would hint at why. If you keep losing your cool, your relationship with your child will erode. Do you ever want her to wonder if she is loved? Then, there is the whole aspect of parenting daughters as a woman. Stop downing your physical appearance in front of your child. You don’t want her to spend her whole adolescence thinking she is an ugly duckling or not feminine because she doesn’t like makeup or spending too much time on her hair.
Eli, The Good the most recent novel by the eastern Kentucky author Silas House came out in September 2009. My grandmother went to North Carolina to hear him read and to buy me a signed copy of the book. I thought that pretty dang cool of her considering she was supporting an independent bookstore and she was buying me the best kind of material present I could ever receive. Silas House is my very favorite author.
I wasn’t really sure what to expect of this novel. I had heard him read an excerpt at the Hindman Settlement School’s Appalachian Writer’s Workshop evening readings over the summer. I appreciated the segment he read. I soaked in the frankness of the tone and took up the imagery, making a movie in my mind, as the best books do for me. I relished in his audible voice, true to his accent and unapologetic. The kind that makes you even more proud to be who you are because someone molded from the same clay as you is making a difference in the world. I was ready for this book.
I opened it and began reading, noticing immediately that this novel was very different from his first three (a series with the same family as characters). It was different in feeling and much different in tone. It was told from the voice of a ten year old child, Eli Book. While the setting was obviously the mountains, it was more universal. It felt like it could be many places. Immediately, I felt like that child could have been me.
I went through the first half of the book wondering where it was taking me. I didn’t grasp it fully because at times it was a very uncomfortable place to be, but as I moved onward I understood that was exactly the point.
By the end of the novel, I felt like I had been on a life transforming journey. The kind that is a one way ticket. You go from beginning to end and never look back. The end of the novel held the juice for me. Eli’s father dealt with demons brought back from the Vietnam war. A war he had gone to fight still being only a child. Eli’s mother clung to the love she found with his father because she had not known love as a child. There was Eli and his sister both feeling the very same way, but coming to the understanding that what they were feeling was not the reality of their life, but the feelings that their parents were carrying with them and projecting out onto their lives.
But then he saw me. I just stood there, feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness wash over me. I had felt alone all my life, had felt as if my parents only saw each other as they moved through the world, thought they loved each other so much that there was no room to love me. But now, by the way Daddy looked at me, I knew better.
His faced is what convinced me. He was so hurt to see me there, to know I had seen all of this. So I knew, once and for all, that he did care if I existed or not.
– Eli, The Good by Silas House, Chapter 25, pg. 265
It was that moment in the book that sealed the deal for me and my commitment to becoming my true self. The self that is uninhibited by my circumstances or past. This was the point that gave me hope. The hope that despite my shortcomings and my personal pitfalls, my children will at some point be assured of the fact that I love them and I love having been a part of giving them life. They will know it because it is true.
All the things that I am doing are not only for myself at this point, though I believe looking inward is important for people in all walks of life. It is for my family. From the choice of Waldorf inspired education, to moving up in the head of no where, to making our traditional culture a daily part of our life, those choices were made to help my children experience childhood. We can grow up so quickly. My spiritual studies, my yoga practice, my writing and reading, making the choice to become a childbirth educator, are all part of ending a cycle and embracing my natural state of well being. Disease is not our natural state. It is dis-ease. Feelings of inadequacy, depletion, and blaming are not natural. These are things that can be healed. These are things that with mindfulness can be made whole in beautiful ways.
I want to bring my children up in a healing environment. I want to do all I can to insure that I leave little baggage for them to carry into their adult life. Any baggage they will have will be theirs, personal and part of that which helps us become independent of our parents. It will be the stuffs of a beautiful life and the tools to make it a complete one.
It is really apparent to me that I need a break. Just a break. A mama break. Time to unwind. It’s 11:30 at night on the day before we make our big annual trip to Paducah, Kentucky to visit John’s Granny and Papaw, aunts, uncle, and cousins. I’m so excited that I have been asked to make some things to bring this year! Maybe this means I’m growing up. 😉 So, tonight, I’m baking. I’ve made sweet potato and raisin cookies and sourdough bread from the Nourishing Traditions Cookbook, and a coconut oil fudge recipe I got from a message board. At about midnight, I’ll put in the blueberry muffins. In the morning, I’m making a pumpkin pie.
I’m looking forward to this trip. I love John’s family as much as I do my own. They are precious to me. The trip will also give me time to reflect on what is and isn’t working in my mothering. I have decided that I need an information purge. I first read about the concept on Alisha’s blog – On a Silent Sea, and her journey through reading The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. She posted the idea on August 19th. It has taken me this long to get the guts to try it. Since we are going to be away for the weekend, I think it is the perfect time to start.
My biggest issue is the internet. I never used to use it like I do since we moved. I resented it really. I hated the thought of computers taking the place of books with pages, sticking your nose right in the binding and taking in the scent of paper and ink, flipping, marking, and highlighting your way through. I hated the internet for being trendy, the knew “thing”. Yet, here I am right in the middle of it. I don’t feel so strongly about it anymore, and I have come to see how useful it can be, especially to a mama who is kind of isolated in her beliefs and relationships. That mama being me.
I live four and a half hours away from my best girlfriend and sister. There are no more weekends on her couch watching TV, eating, and talking about what goes and who gives. I am no longer close to the only Waldorf School in Kentucky, and therefore am missing out on that community. The attachment parenting group that I am a member of is also far away now, and there’s no more meetings at the coffee house, or VBAC support. I no longer have the community group meetings with my church sisters and brothers. These were weekly activities that got me out and into the world when we lived in the city. Granted, I’d be fine with just the weekends on the couch at Ariana’s, but I needed the rest too. Despite all the wonderfulness of home, I’m missing the break that these things gave me. A chance to get out of my shell once and awhile and experience people.
I took the girls to most of these outings, but it was a time to be with others, vent frustrations to people face to face, a time to develop friendship, have meaningful conversations. Now, most days, the only conversations I have are either short evening ones with John, or on computer message boards. It has become such that if I have any little issue, my first instinct is to go get advice or look it up online. Sad, I know. Useful, yes, but sad.
I’m so not good at making friends. If you notice, the above activities already put me at a place where there were folks meeting for a purpose, or common goal. I have such a hard time without that setting. There aren’t many opportunities for mothers here to get together, and when there are, I don’t see many taking advantage of it. John and I don’t get date nights. It is a rare thing that I am doing anything sans the girls. I simply don’t have childcare throughout the week when most things I would like to attend are going on. John is busy weekends, so those are out most of the time. I just don’t have anyone other than family (who work) that I am close enough to to feel unembarrassed to ask about childcare, and no money to pay anyone. Historically has it most of the time been this way for mothers, or were extended families and communities part of the child rearing?
I drink Yogi Tea and on the little tabs they have a quote from Yogi Bhajan. Yesterday, my quote was:
Self reliance conquers any difficulty.
While I believe that relying on God is the first thing, I can completely understand what Yogi Bhajan meant here. The answers lie within ourselves. God in us. It’s there if we can shut out all the noise, observe, and listen. I don’t do that – not at all.
That said, there will be no message boards, Facebook, or crazy internet searches for information for an unset amount of time. I’m going to use the extra time that will give me to work on my home, my selfishness, and my relationship with the girls. I’m going to use this time to listen, and come up with my own answers.
I realize these last few posts have been lots of words and no photos. I will do better as soon as I am able. I also apologize for the typos in the last post that I haven’t had the chance to fix yet. I don’t know if letting others spend time in my head is interesting or not, but that’s what’s on my mind, and I’d like to tell someone.
I’ve been guiding myself through my yoga practice the last six days with a set from the back of The 8 Human Talents by Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa. The music I have chosen, because I don’t have any yoga music, is Eddie Veddar’s work on the soundtrack to the movie Into the Wild. If you have never seen the movie, it is beautiful, breathtaking, and based on a true story. I love Pearl Jam and have since they became a band. I believe Eddie Veddar to be the best lyricist possibly who ever lived. There are two songs that seem to sing from a place where I am at now… Here they are for you. I hope you enjoy them.
A Mountain Mama - East Kentucky Gal 