we teach our children the way we think the world should be we show them the way we believe the world could be
we teach our children to be curious. we teach them kindness and gentleness. we tell them of their own innate goodness. we teach our children to pay attention: the call of a bird, a dog barking, the moon; we teach them patience and acceptance. we teach our children that all their feelings are welcome, it’s safe here, you are loved. we say to them, this is a beautiful place, isn’t it? look at the sun my love, did you know when it rises here it sets in Thailand? listen to the sound of the snow crunching under your feet squish the mud with your fingers trace your name in the sand listen. did you hear that? it’s the sound of the wind a train a helicopter. we let time stand still and we exist in that moment only, with them. we play, we laugh, we sing so much. (we never knew we would sing so much.) we teach them to be themselves. we tell them they can be whatever they want to be in this world. we tell them to listen to their hearts their bodies their inner wisdom. we don’t want to lay it on too thick, but we tell them to listen to their true selves. shhhhh… listen.
we believe in magic, with them. with them, we don’t hold back, we are unconcerned, we are not self-conscious. (the singing for example, we really didn’t know there would be so much singing.)
we are reminded daily, almost hourly really, of how incredible and abundant and miraculous life here really is. that they are that. that life and our constant little reminder. we try to convey this to them on a long drive home one afternoon during the why why why phase every three-year-old goes through. but, well, just end up singing a song about the sun, the moon and the stars. shhhh… can i tell you a secret? you are that, my love.
Everything that came before you was just a dream.
Or did the dream start when you were born?
If someone had asked me, before I had you
I would have said, ‘I am full. It’s a full life and I am fulfilled.’
I remember those early days in Bangkok writing,
What am I doing here trying to have these new experiences?
I have already had all the experiences. I should just go home.
Ha. I was thirty-three. What did I know.
I hadn’t met your father yet. Or Buddha.
I hadn’t woken alone in my tiny hut surrounded by mist and mountains,
desiring nothing.
Still, these days I catch myself inhaling,
These are the best days of my life,
my chin resting atop your head watching gulls over Professor’s Lake.
These days I catch myself exhaling,
There is no greater moment than this,
as I race alongside you on the path from the park to our home
every evening wondering if I have ever been as full
as I feel in that moment.
I catch myself holding you closer,
as you climb onto my lap to eat dinner.
I catch myself whispering,
Thank you.I will hold on to this moment.
There is a knowing that I feel,
that these years belong to us,
to me and you,
a mother and her son.
Everything that came before you was just a dream,
perhaps,
and everything after
my dream come true.
mama musings 