equanimity – Surprised By Joy

“Be a fountain, not a drain.” – Rex Hurdler

My 6-year-old daughter recently came home from an extended play date and I had no idea who she was. I mean she looked like my daughter but one minute she was super confident and magnanimously sharing the candy sitting on the table with her little brother. But the next minute she was lying on the floor yelling that she couldn’t get ready for bed by herself, even though she’s been doing it for at least two years.

My take away from this episode is that the line between our big space where anything and everything seems possible and our small space where problems loom large is really thin. And the line seems to teeter on proper care and feeding.

If something feels off — as if one of us is in one of those tight parking spaces where we can’t open the doors, we are cursing those parked next to us and it feels like we have to use a can opener just to get out, I’ve learned to check the basics. Is anyone tired, cold, hungry or wet? And yes, I’m talking about my kids but I’m also talking about myself. Have I meditated, exercised and eaten well? If I have, then 90% of the time I’m operating from my big space.

Ten years ago when I started meditating, I had no idea that sitting in silence for ten to twenty minutes a day could change the experience for all the other minutes in a day. But for me it’s like a daily washing of the windows so that I let more light in and my perspective is brighter. It is a parking space I feel so lucky to have gotten, looks out to the most beautiful vista and I want to whoop with delight.

I assume with my daughter that she was exhausted by having the navigate the ground of relationship in an unstructured play with someone her own age. Grown-ups are pretty easy for her because for the most part in play, they generally will give her whatever they want because no one wants to be the jerk who won’t share a doll with a 6-year-old. But it’s a completely different ball game with other kids. And negotiation is exhausting.

It’s precisely because navigating relationships can be exhausting that I come back again and again to self-care. Because I want to be operating from my big space in case I meet someone temporarily parked in their small space.

(featured photo from Pexels)

“When little people are overwhelmed by big emotions it’s our job to share our calm, not join their chaos.” L.R. Knost

Yesterday was our first day back to “life” after our short vacation to Whidbey Island. My toddler had to go back to daycare, my 5-year-old daughter had nothing planned because it was the first day of summer break at home and I tried to work while my nanny hung out with my daughter. After the little bit bumpy jarring of re-entry, we were all together last night and found ourselves gathered around the strawberry planter on the back patio. The warm weather and lack of pickers for few days meant it had about eight perfectly ripe berries.

My son, who at almost two years old doesn’t have a perfect picking technique and sometimes will eat the stem, was first to get his hands in there. Which led my five-year-old daughter to want to control the process. She started grabbing berries and instead of eating them, just holding them in her hands. She then grabbed one out of my son’s hands in an effort to pluck the stem out for him and he started to melt down. In good circumstances, he lets her do most everything and she’s quite supportive of him but in that moment, all the pains of the day descended and for everyone, THERE WASN”T ENOUGH!

I was trying to manage the scrum all the while observing the feeling of when life doesn’t go our way. When we get parked in our small spaces because something has been hard or tiring and suddenly there’s no energy to be expansive, to recognize that there’s enough. Everything centers on one moment when that ball in the gut feels like it needs to get fed or else.

This is one of the first times that I observed that happening collectively to us as a family. Probably not because it hasn’t happened before but because I wasn’t tuned in to see it. When it happens to me as an individual, if I can have a split second of awareness, one deep breath helps me start to break the pull of it. But the group dynamic flummoxed me until the cat jumped onto the fence and everyone looked up at the sound and it broke the tension.

I don’t like these moments. They pull me out of my happy place, or my I’m doing fine place, whichever I am at, and remind me of my humanity. When we break into a collective feeling of scarcity and panic, I feel like walking away. I heard Melinda French Gates once describe a family as a mobile and that moms often take on the job of keeping the whole system balanced. Sometimes I don’t feel like leading but the strawberry scrum is so ripe for a teaching moment, for me and for my children. It offers the chance practice awareness, distraction and feeding our possibility, expansiveness and calm and because I know they’ll be many more, also gratitude for the opportunity to remember we always have enough.

Tag: equanimity

Open and Even

Discovering our Plenitude