I'm Listening

I will not be silenced anymore

Silence can fester and sicken

It used to be that silence was necessary to be safe

Speaking was dangerous

But I am safe now

We are safe to speak now

Sometimes it feels as if a tsunami may come if we open up the speak gates

Maybe natural disasters are just the Mother doing her housework

It is safe to speak now

I’ll hold your hand and wipe your tears

I’ll witness your trembling rage

Your waves of grief

Loosen your grip Dear One

You’re safe to feel, to speak

I welcome all of You.

The Tao of Housework

I have been known on the odd occasion, when having thoughts like "I'm sick and tired of being the maid around here," whilst viciously vacuuming around toys, to feel a perverse pleasure upon hearing the plastic rattle of a lego piece disappearing up the hoover hose.

"O Dear," I sarcastically mutter inside my mind. "Oops."

This dastardly moment of cruelty does not improve my mood. More often than not I sink further into harried fury. Not road rage. Rug rage. Resentment quicksand can then threaten the next few hours.

Rewind nine years to me as a single thirty five year old talking to a girlfriend.. "I just feel like I have all this love inside me and I need somewhere to put it. I want a family of my own to love and take care of!"

All that love inside me needs remembering in a daily, round the house kind of way so I've made a few small changes and am so far pleased with the results.

I have asked my husband to cook dinner every Sunday night. This is to include checking supplies, deciding what to make without asking me and shopping if necessary. Don't get me wrong, my man is a star around the house but somehow I'd let myself become "the cook." He is the main breadwinner, so it makes sense during the week that I cook for the family but having that 4 - 6pm time at the weekend has been expansive and liberating as I consider whether I want to tidy a drawer, play with my boys, ring my Mum or do nothing much at all. John has been loving it, cranking up the barbie and hand rolling fresh pasta.

I allow more time for housework. I'm not sure how I got the idea that it was reasonable to expect to have all the beds made, things put away, benches gleaming, washing hung out and floors shining ( not with puddles of milk, or worse ) all before strolling out the door for school drop off at 8.30. In my house the reality is often that the place looks as if it has been burgled and I am hollering down the hallway single words like "Shoes!" "Lunch!" "Bookbag!" Housekeeping and mothering was once considered a job. It does us good to drop the high expectations.

After a recent illness I have a bit more time on my hands and I can say in the same sentence that I am a feminist who enjoys housekeeping when there is the time, space and mindset to do it. Feminism and well-being go together I think. I love it when my home is fresh and clean with baking in the tins and flowers in the vases. I love it when I have time to keep order. For me, a well kept T shirt drawer or pantry is a beautiful sight and experience.

I am getting firmer in encouraging my boys to tidy. More often I'm using "When you've tidied up your toys, drawing, shoes, bag, clothes, afternoon tea dishes.... you can watch TV." Otherwise Iblast tidy up tunes like Ghostbusters and Happy. They're getting better at it. Slowly.

I practise mindful housework. When I remember to, I become present to my tasks. The airy, warm popping rainbow bubbles of the washing up sink, the steam scented out breath of the iron, the soft woven colours of the quilts that have that have comforted my beloveds. As I dwell in the moment, feelings of love for my Darlings and gratitude for my good fortune often appear and peace washes through me.

I've upped the self care. Small adjustments. More baths, early nights, knitting and naps. Less social media and screen time in general.

Work, child care,  housekeeping and cooking can lead to resentful, tired overwhelm. Delegating, lowering our expectations, practicing mindful housework and self care can deliver us back to our natural feelings of love and nurture. Lego and I are friends once more.

Our Current Addiction

I've got a new best friend. We hang out all the time. Over breakfast, checking in throughout the day, whilst cooking dinner, we chill on the sofa once the boys are in bed and then, if I can't sleep, we sit together, sometimes for hours.
 It's getting a little obsessive and truth is, a little one-sided. In fact, I'm thinking the time has come to create some boundaries with my friend. I wonder how his little, fake leather clad self is going to take it?

Yes, it's feeling at times that my relationship with my i-pad is out of control. At the heart of it is a longing for connection and the numbing out to what feels like constant demands, sometimes at the expense of my family. Yet a self-perpetuating cycle is at work here. Being constantly open to and bombarded by messages and information creates stress and energy leaks which on some level is soothed by the 'zone out' and disconnect of cyber space which then creates more stress and energy leaks.

So I am experimenting with time frames for cyber-communing and more real connecting with beloveds. Three check-ins per day for a maximum of fifteen minutes including facebook gives me more time to play with my kids, read books, do yoga and meditate, journal, talk on the phone with friends, socialise, have baths and footrubs with my husband... the list goes on. Wanna try it too? So far I'm discovering that it takes real discipline to not check the i-pad every 20 minutes ( you know, just in case it's something really important - as if living my life joyfully in the real world isn't! ).

Our modern world is feeling like a new frontier. Many are exhausted, frazzled and anxious. We have no history of cyber world to help us navigate it. Our personal boundaries and practices are our map to health, peace and what is real for us. Saying 'no', limiting cyber usage, practicing true connection and presence with loved ones and our mindfulness practices like yoga, meditation and prayer are becoming as necessary for health as veges and toothbrushing. We have the choice as pioneers of this age to take care of our whole selves.

My 6 year old boy will often say to me as an affirmative, "True Mum. Real life." I think he's onto it.

Love and True, Real Life Connections

Angela x

When "Positive Thinking" Just Don't Cut It

"I'm going to make this really hard for you today," my client Sarah declared as she slumped into the chair.

"Good. I'm up for it. What's happening?" I replied.

Out poured an angry, demoralised rail at the state of the world, her expectations for her life, health, wealth and God.

"I don't even know if I believe in any form of goodness anymore. Everything just feels fucked." I could see dejection in her eyes.

"How would it be if we gave these feelings a character and invited her to join us?" I suggested.

"OK."

We closed our eyes and invited this character in. We gave her a seat in the corner. Sarah saw an angry young punk girl flopped in the chair smoking. We welcomed her, reassured her we were here for her and wanted to listen to her. I invited Sarah to ask her punk girl if there was anything she needed? A few moments passed and Sarah began to cry. I sat with her and after a while she revealed "She told me'but I am your painter!'"

It dawned on Sarah that she had been shutting down her creativity and thinking she needed to be carving out a conventional career whilst her inner artist had been craving expression and growing more and more dejected.

Softness and sparkle emerged from Sarah as we continued to assimilate the realisation with some Psych-K.

Since our session Sarah has been painting with a fervour.

Gratitude and moving up the emotional scale can be very helpful tools but we don't always need to push away our negative apects. By opening a compassionate dialogue with these darker places we may discover gold. 

It reminds me of Rumi's poem

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honourably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

Meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

Why I Cried Going Back To Class After Having Children

Before I had my beloved ninjas I would go to class once or twice a week. It was normal. It was lovely.

Once Connor was born, going to class became a luxury. I had insomniac tendencies before children. Throw two tricky sleepers, tough pregnancies, miscarriages and five plus years of breastfeeding into the mix - exhaustion became my new reality. I still taught but as for going to class for me? It was easier not to go.

Five years on my energy is returning and I have been back to class more regularly.

At times my eyes have filled with tears.

The peace of an hour or more uninterrupted time to move, breathe, chant and meditate has brought me home to the practise and to myself. At times the peace of the class has felt exquisite.

I have managed to practise in the last five years - maybe five minutes before I get jumped on, or meditate - always with the risk ( and reality ) of interruption, but a whole block of time just for me? What a gift!

That hour booked in just for me has a big impact on my week. I know it's coming, I get to fill my tank with peace and beauty, I'm no longer running on empty, my week feels calmer, I have more to give and the memory of the class has a resonance with the power to deliver me back to peace.

My dear mother-in-law said to me in the early days "Yoga class kept me sane as my boys were growing up." I completely understand this now.

Mamas need peace - completely guaranteed and without interruption to restore and replenish.

Class has become my new church - heaven on earth.