Fearless

Uh oh, another post about me.  I think I have to change the name of this blog.  But what to call it?

Tonight was the last night of the bereavement group and I feel so protective of the whole thing that I find myself not wanting to say too much, except that I remain so honored and humbled to be called to do this work.  And I got an amazing gift from one of the members in the form of another calling.  Why don't you offer a yoga class for people who have lost children? I would come . . .

So I will put this together.  Find a space, spread the word, and show up to teach.  I can't wait, although I would rather there not be a need for a special class like this.  But there is death mixed up with all this life we are living and people need different ways to heal.  Don't I know it.

Teaching yoga has been such a blessing for me.  I can't describe it very well, except to say that from my first class as a student of yoga, I wanted to share what I felt with others.  It was that good.  It will be interesting to see how my own practice filters into our lives . . . I love sharing yoga with Avi and Leeor because it is part of my truest, best self.

Avi is fast asleep downstairs.  This separation/individuation/weaning/toddlerhood process has been so exhausting and also rich with opportunity for learning.  I remain a grateful student.  At the same time, I am the mother.  I decided that I need to view this stage in our lives with different eyes.

Last night, after spending a solid hour nursing Avi to sleep, I came upstairs feeling defeated.  I needed to move my body.  I played the Black Eyed Peas and started doing sun salutations.  I couldn't even pause to get my mat out so I was gripping our shiny wood floors with the pads of my fingers, grinding the balls of my feet down, down, trying to ground myself and also to create space within.

Then I did something I've never done in over 10 years of practicing yoga; I was balancing in crow pose when this little voice inside suggested I could jump back into chaturanga.  I realize this is getting technical, but basically it's this (for me) hard thing to do that requires strength, faith and trust.  So I did it.  Then I did it again, a little giddy.  Oh yeah, I am strong.  And I trust myself.  Just then Leeor came home and I had to show off.  He was suitably impressed.  I felt good. 

I know that we will get through this time.  I will find my way and Avi is/will be just fine.  We will take little "weaning trips" here and there until we find ourselves on the other side of nursing.  My little boy, discovering himself a little more each day, and his faithful mama, uncovering the self she's always been, a little more each day.