Children challenge me. And when I feel most challenged, I turn to books. I read books on how to deal with intense children, how to be a more compassionate parent/person, or how I might help my son navigate the coming pre-teen years. And while these books are helpful, and while I diligently write small notes to myself on post-it notes so that I don't forget a piece of wisdom gleaned--I am a bit too earnest, I admit--they seem to only make me feel like I have to be aware of so much more than my brain can retain. I simply can not remember.
The cycle is always the same. I notice a problem or a challenge in parenting or with my child. I analyze it, I begin to look for books that might guide me in a direction that seems right for me, and I read and I take notes. I make lists of strategies that I actually never look at again. I want to know how to fix it. I want to get it right. I want to be more than a good enough parent.
But recently, I stopped reading books, stopped referring to someone else's ideas/instincts (albeit useful strategies and helpful guidance)and started following my own intuition. Taking the leap to trust my own instinct, especially when it comes to parenting, seems like I am leaping across a deep valley without safety equipment. As a result, I could remember how it feels to trust my intuition. Just remember the deep valley below me.
And my intuition gave way to a beautiful, hopeful list. A list I wrote. My own wisdom. My own very short book (if a short list could such a book).
A hopeful list:
I hope my children are loving, compassionate people.
I hope they learn respect for themselves and for others.
I hope they know love.
I hope they know acceptance.
I hope they practice healthy boundaries.
I hope they live their passions daily.
I hope they practice creativity.
I hope for self-knowledge and awareness.
I hope they believe in something.
I hope they always have one friend.
With this list, I have what I need to be a good enough parent. If I could offer at least one of these hopes to my children, it would be enough. This I want to remember.
And while I think I write this for my children, I really write it for myself. These are my hopes for my life. Oh, yes, I will remember this.
Showing posts with label the inner knowing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the inner knowing. Show all posts
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Soul-hearing
I have been reading Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes and came about this quote worth sharing about the relationship between story and soul:
"...to further our kinship relationship with the instinctual nature, it assists greatly if we understand stories as though we are inside them, rather than as though they are outside of us. We enter into a story through the door of inner hearing. The spoken story touches the auditory nerve, which runs across the floor of the skull into the brainstem just below the pons. There, auditory impulses are relayed upward to consciousness or else, it is said, to the soul...depending on the attitude with which one listens.
Ancient dissectionists spoke of the auditory nerve being divided into three or more pathways deep in the brain. They surmised that the ear was meant, therefore, to hear at three different levels. One pathway was said to hear the mundane conversations of the world. A second pathway apprehended learning and art. And the third path way existed so the soul itself might hear guidance and gain knowledge while here on earth.
Listen then with soul-hearing now, for that is the mission of story."
I finally understand why stories matter so much. Real life stories told by a friend, stories written down for generations, good novels, captivating story-telling, my grandmother's daily journal (of who did what and when), and yes, even those quickly written blog posts hold a mission: soul-hearing. Stories shared and stories heard point us to wisdom. Wisdom is not something that can be learned or studied but is gained when we kindle our relationship with the instinctual self.
We rekindle the fire of the instinctual self by living inside a story. When we live inside the story, we listen with our soul-hearing. Our soul-hearing listens for clues, for signs, for understandings in the patterns of life. Our soul-hearing looks for synchronicity. Our soul-hearing finds our inner knowing in places outside of us only to reveal its constant presence within.
In the story, any story, the outside is allowed in, and the inside, out. In the story, we find the Self and are surprised at her familiarity.
"...to further our kinship relationship with the instinctual nature, it assists greatly if we understand stories as though we are inside them, rather than as though they are outside of us. We enter into a story through the door of inner hearing. The spoken story touches the auditory nerve, which runs across the floor of the skull into the brainstem just below the pons. There, auditory impulses are relayed upward to consciousness or else, it is said, to the soul...depending on the attitude with which one listens.
Ancient dissectionists spoke of the auditory nerve being divided into three or more pathways deep in the brain. They surmised that the ear was meant, therefore, to hear at three different levels. One pathway was said to hear the mundane conversations of the world. A second pathway apprehended learning and art. And the third path way existed so the soul itself might hear guidance and gain knowledge while here on earth.
Listen then with soul-hearing now, for that is the mission of story."
I finally understand why stories matter so much. Real life stories told by a friend, stories written down for generations, good novels, captivating story-telling, my grandmother's daily journal (of who did what and when), and yes, even those quickly written blog posts hold a mission: soul-hearing. Stories shared and stories heard point us to wisdom. Wisdom is not something that can be learned or studied but is gained when we kindle our relationship with the instinctual self.
We rekindle the fire of the instinctual self by living inside a story. When we live inside the story, we listen with our soul-hearing. Our soul-hearing listens for clues, for signs, for understandings in the patterns of life. Our soul-hearing looks for synchronicity. Our soul-hearing finds our inner knowing in places outside of us only to reveal its constant presence within.
In the story, any story, the outside is allowed in, and the inside, out. In the story, we find the Self and are surprised at her familiarity.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Mothering, the pottery wheel, and the inner knowing
Ten years ago (living as an expat in Cairo), I was one week overdue with my first child. My doctor began pressuring me to book a time in the hospital to be induced. I held off. The next time I visited her in her office (only two days later), she told me she would not see me in her office again and told me to schedule a time for a c-section because she said, "we (even though her idea of safety was completely different from mine) wanted the baby to be safe. " I went and got a second opinion from another doctor.
Dr Sherif kindly met me and my husband in his dimly lit office in a suburb outside of Cairo. He listened. He shook his head. His gentle nature told me I was safe and so was my baby. He held up his hand for emphasis and said, "there are 5 ways we can tell if a baby is in harm's way." The first four ways based on medical examinations measure numbers, size and beat. He surprised me with the fifth test.
Very calmly, he turned to me in his perfect although heavily accented English and said, "the fifth test is very important to consider." He paused and yet without a trace of Mediterranean drama said, "What is your maternal instinct? Do you feel your baby is safe?" I was so surprised that a doctor was actually considering how I felt about the state of my baby. He wanted me to tell him about the safety of my womb before even examining me. I was surprised. I was shocked. And yet, I was finally liberated and empowered!
This was my turning point--the day in my life when I was given permission to consider my instinct. It changed me forever. I sometimes mark that day as the day my soul was really born. I still feel quite young in learning how to hear my inner knowing, to recognize its voice, to practice its sounds aloud. I am growing into its infinite wisdom.
This inner knowing is based on feeling and experience. Expressing it and rearranging my life so that it is heard is based on trust.
Flash forward to just about 10 weeks ago. I am sitting at the potter's wheel, and I am struggling to center the clay. My instructor comes over to me, tells me to close my eyes, and feel my way to the center. I smile since I am reminded of Dr Sherif. "It is like learning to ride a bike," my pottery instructor says, "It is based on feeling and practice and instinct." Closing my eyes, I can tap into the instinct, that inner knowing, even faster. I can feel when the clay (and perhaps even myself ) is centered.
You can't really tell someone how to center clay on a the wheel just like you can't really tell someone how to ride a bike. And you can't really tell someone how to tap into instinct, but you can practice, over and over and over again. Sometimes you get it right. Sometimes there are rather large bumps along the way. Sometimes you take a long detour and find yourself back at the beginning ready to start again. But the more you experience it, the more you feel your instinct rising up in you, the more you can listen to that voice, the sooner you step into your place of power.
It is such a freeing feeling, really. To know I carry within me this inner knowing that centers my whole being on feeling and experience is quite remarkable. I only wish all the schooling, all the book reading, all the advanced degrees, all the acquiring of knowledge would have spoken about the power of instinct and the inner knowing.
I have had to step outside the civilized systems to find the inner world. Yet, thanks to the Dr Sherifs and potters and mothers out there who know it is really all about feeling, I don't have to step too far.
Dr Sherif kindly met me and my husband in his dimly lit office in a suburb outside of Cairo. He listened. He shook his head. His gentle nature told me I was safe and so was my baby. He held up his hand for emphasis and said, "there are 5 ways we can tell if a baby is in harm's way." The first four ways based on medical examinations measure numbers, size and beat. He surprised me with the fifth test.
Very calmly, he turned to me in his perfect although heavily accented English and said, "the fifth test is very important to consider." He paused and yet without a trace of Mediterranean drama said, "What is your maternal instinct? Do you feel your baby is safe?" I was so surprised that a doctor was actually considering how I felt about the state of my baby. He wanted me to tell him about the safety of my womb before even examining me. I was surprised. I was shocked. And yet, I was finally liberated and empowered!
This was my turning point--the day in my life when I was given permission to consider my instinct. It changed me forever. I sometimes mark that day as the day my soul was really born. I still feel quite young in learning how to hear my inner knowing, to recognize its voice, to practice its sounds aloud. I am growing into its infinite wisdom.
This inner knowing is based on feeling and experience. Expressing it and rearranging my life so that it is heard is based on trust.
Flash forward to just about 10 weeks ago. I am sitting at the potter's wheel, and I am struggling to center the clay. My instructor comes over to me, tells me to close my eyes, and feel my way to the center. I smile since I am reminded of Dr Sherif. "It is like learning to ride a bike," my pottery instructor says, "It is based on feeling and practice and instinct." Closing my eyes, I can tap into the instinct, that inner knowing, even faster. I can feel when the clay (and perhaps even myself ) is centered.
You can't really tell someone how to center clay on a the wheel just like you can't really tell someone how to ride a bike. And you can't really tell someone how to tap into instinct, but you can practice, over and over and over again. Sometimes you get it right. Sometimes there are rather large bumps along the way. Sometimes you take a long detour and find yourself back at the beginning ready to start again. But the more you experience it, the more you feel your instinct rising up in you, the more you can listen to that voice, the sooner you step into your place of power.
It is such a freeing feeling, really. To know I carry within me this inner knowing that centers my whole being on feeling and experience is quite remarkable. I only wish all the schooling, all the book reading, all the advanced degrees, all the acquiring of knowledge would have spoken about the power of instinct and the inner knowing.
I have had to step outside the civilized systems to find the inner world. Yet, thanks to the Dr Sherifs and potters and mothers out there who know it is really all about feeling, I don't have to step too far.
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