September 18

The Middle Way

Epiphanies happen. I had one recently that came out of a look at my home/work life balance. You see, throughout the years I’ve learned that I am sure to feel out of sorts and off my path if I attempt either of two extremes: Attempting to be the perfect domestic goddess and stay-at-home housewife or attempting to get rich as an entrepreneur. I’ve only recently figured out that the mid way between both extremes– the Middle Way, if you will– is where I feel and perform my best. For that reason, I’ve recently cut back on the outside-of-the-home income opportunities I had been pursuing to help make ends meet, and I am now focusing on striking a balance between keeping my home and growing my art. I’m slowly filtering out everything else. The immediate outcome? I have dropped into a world of peace and bliss.

And as usual when I have such an epiphany, it starts me thinking about everything else, and I began to wonder about the other things in my life that plague me in cycles. Things like my weight, financial challenges, and spiritual questions. What if they are all because I am attempting an extreme rather than a happy medium

What if I am either being too restrictive or being too free in my food choices and that’s why I never maintain a healthy weight? What if I am either depriving myself of wants and needs or foolishly spending and never striking a happy medium? What if I am looking at my faith as an all or nothing deal?

And then I realized, I am.

I do all of those things.

And I’ve never, not once, walked the line down the middle with any of them. I don’t think I ever realized that it was an option. I thought I had to choose a side.

And then something else occurred to me.

If I take the middle road in these things, I may essentially eliminate “want” and a huge source of my personal suffering. Let me explain.

Let’s take diet for example. Historically, if I am in a phase where I am over indulging and have decided that I’m never going to diet again, I soon feel sluggish and frumpy and “want” to be thinner and healthier. I feel sad. I suffer with the agony of hating myself and my body. On the other hand, if I am in the midst of a major exercise program and restrictive diet, I feel fit and healthy but I “want” to indulge in wonderful foods and traditions and I feel very deprived and angry if I can’t. But what if I take the middle road? What if I settle in between. I exercise, but not to extreme. I eat healthy foods most of the time but enjoy treats a few times a week as well. Maybe my body settles somewhere in between. Maybe my mind settles too. There will be no “want” left. I will be healthier and fit and have my indulgences. I would never feel deprived. In fact, I probably wouldn’t be thinking about weight or food at all. I wouldn’t need to. I will have eliminated that suffering. Forever.

How would that work with spirituality? or finances? or even choosing the size of my gardens? How would it work in all of my decision-making? Upon analyzing each, I can see how it would resolve some long-standing issues. I’d have peace where I’ve had so much turmoil throughout the years.

So is “wanting” the source of all of our suffering? And is following the middle way the answer? “Moderation in all things”, they say. I just automatically thought that quote was directed at food choices. I never realized it went beyond.

How many things does the Middle Way apply to? The more I look around, the more I think it literally means everything. From food and drink to the size of my car. Moderation.

I suspect making all the adjustments will take a while, maybe even a lifetime, but I’m on a mission to see if I can do it. I will continue pursuit of the middle way in all things and I’ll keep you posted on how it works out. Maybe you can try it too and comment to me how you make out?

June 10

Mud Puddles and Tidal Waves

The stress of parenting can lead to some strange side effects.  Twenty-three years ago I started having dreams–nightmares really– about water, large amounts of angry, raging water. The dreams would come, I noticed, at times that I was feeling stressed. Sometimes money troubles would spark them. Other times when my husband was out of town for long periods of time they would resurface, but they only came when I somehow felt that my life was “out of control,” and they ALWAYS included my children…always.

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I remember one particularly frightening one. It came when the girls were very young, Steph was only about four, Tammy two and Jenny just an infant. They were about the same ages in my dream. I remember that in my dream we were standing on one of those long rope bridges that you often see strung between mountain passes. Except OUR bridge had only every other board to step on. In between those you could look down at a rapidly rising, angry, churning river. I watched, horrified, as the river splintered huge logs on the rocks below us.

I reached out to steady myself, but the “handles” of the bridge were made of just one thin piece of string on either side. The bridge rocked wildly in the strong wind as a storm whipped around us. We struggled to stay standing. I didn’t want to cross, but we were standing halfway across already. (How did we get here? I wondered.) I looked behind me as waves were beginning to crash across the side of the bridge we had just come from, and they were moving in our direction. We HAD to move forward. We had no choice.

But . . . my girls, …. they were so very little. So fragile. Babies. There was no way I could hold on to them all. I couldn’t take the steps for them. I couldn’t put them on the sides of me and watch and guide as they took each step. The bridge was too narrow and I was afraid they’d fall through the space between the string and the rickety “floor”. I was terrified. What do I do? God?? Help me! Please!

I remember waking up literally gasping for air….grateful to discover that it was just a dream, but still left with a nagging, sickly feeling of helplessness.

A later dream involved the ocean…. my girls a bit older– They were making sand castles and giggling as I drifted off to sleep in the sun. In my dream I woke to Stephanie shaking me and asking me how we were going to get out of the water. I looked around and the tide had come in. We were in the water, and the beach was gone. Behind us was a high brick wall. There was nowhere to go. I looked out at the ocean at huge, 25-foot waves that were now charging straight toward us.

The undertow pulled us toward the rising water. I frantically clawed for the girls and attempted to tread water as the waves began crashing over us…. I remember seeing my kids being sucked under the first wave…little hands reaching toward me…. cries muffled…

I think you get the picture. … bad, bad dreams. Twenty-three very long years of very bad dreams.

Well this morning it happened again, but with a twist. This time, my girls were grown. Steph, 23. Tammy 21. Jenny 19. In my dream I’m babysitting my nieces and nephews who are also grown. (So why am I babysitting? I don’t know!) Most of the kids go upstairs to play, but it’s time for Jen’s nap, so I have her lay in a bed that I can see from my kitchen table. She sleeps peacefully there while I visit with my friends.

Jane and Rosemary are chatting about the kids when Michelle calmly says “Oh my God.” I turned around to find that water is coming up through the floorboards. It was rising rapidly. It had already cut off my path to Jenny in the bed and also to the stairs where I would need to go to get the other kids. I started to panic and scream. As I did so, the water reached Jenny and she began to flail and cough and choke. I froze with terror.

Friends called to me…They pulled on my arms. Michelle yelled at me to “Calm Down, Mama!” But I am wracked with grief and horror. I can’t focus on what they are trying to tell me.

“I can’t!” I plead. “My kids! My kids!!”

“Look!” Michelle told me, pointing toward the stairs.

“LOOK!” Jane said sternly.

“Hol, just looook,” Rosemary encouraged.

So I turned slowly. I looked.

From around the corner of the stairs came Stephanie first. She was arm-in-arm with Tammy and Cory. They were laughing and talking and kicking and splashing in the water. I looked at Jenny on the bed. She was standing now. I caught a glimpse of her just in time to see her dive in. She came up out of the water smiling.

“They can swim, Mama,” Jane told me.

I began to cry.

“It’s life,” a man’s voice said. (Where’d he come from?)

“What…is life?” I asked the old Native man.

“The water. It is life. It always has been,” he explained. “Sometimes the river is peaceful. Other times it is playful as it babbles like a brook. And sometimes it’s raging like in river rapids, but it’s always the same water. Only the circumstances it flows around change. The water is life.”

“What?” . . . I am still dazed, but the realization began to settle in…

“You’ve been afraid of your children navigating life, but, my dear child? Look. Your babies can swim. You taught them well.” He points.

…. chills engulf me.

He goes on…. “You don’t want them to be like your sister, do you? Afraid to enter the river? She stands on the banks watching life flow by… She fools herself into believing that she is safe, but she lives in fear, and so she does not live at all. She sits still like a puddle of putrid mud, drying up in the heat of the sun. Shriveling in her own fear.”

NO! I don’t. I don’t want that. I think to myself. I want them to live…. to be happy… I stand watching through tear-filled eyes as they play…

Is it over? Is it finally over? I don’t have to be afraid anymore? I wondered.

“You never had need to be afraid,” he told me … I heard his voice trail off just as Andy’s alarm clock blared it’s rude awakening, and I awoke…this time gasping a different kind of gasp for air–as if it were my very first….

Like I had just emerged from a watery womb and took my first breath of air….and greeted a brand new life.

A brand new day.

And I wondered, “Where will life take me today?”