I'm typing away at my computer "working" ok so I was reading a blog when I was distracted by what I saw. My youngest daughter has a piece of paper on the couch and is water color painting. My first reaction was to get upset. I took a breath and sat with it for a minute. The outcome was unexpected...I found joy in watching her concentration and pure joy for what she was doing. I asked her if I could move her picture to the easel that was right behind the couch. She said " yes please mommy, I couldn't find the clip to make it stay". Another pleasant surprise, she wanted to do the right thing by painting on her easel - she also wanted to do the right thing by not interrupting me while I was working so she improvised. I simply explained why painting on the couch might end in paint ON the couch. Before I continued to rant I started really looking at her picture. I saw love transformed onto the page. She was working on the same picture from yesterday that her and her friend sweetly painted together in unison. I commented on how amazing her work was and she simply said, "Thank you, if I want to be an artist I have to practice and put love into it". She is listening! She is also teaching me by the simple act of honing a craft she truly loves and enjoys.
What am I missing by feeling the constant need to teach and guide her? What am I falsely accusing my kiddos of by not stopping...being present...observing, softening to what they might teach me or confirm that what I am teaching them is being absorbed? Do I practice honing this craft of yoga which I dearly love and enjoy? This week I will hold space and soften before reacting. I will hit the mat and hone my craft. I will wear my student and teacher glasses...
...the trail an open heart leaves... "Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart." -unknown
Oh, yes. I am definitely in a reactive state -- even in my yoga -- feeling a need to compete, to be the strongest, to do the most.
ReplyDeleteI will breathe next time. To see with eyes not colored by my to-do list, my previous frustrations, my own limitations.