Mama's Gotta Meditate
There have been times in my mediation history that I’ve been envious of people like the Dalai Lama and Eckhart Tolle. Not just because they’re ahead of the game in the enlightenment stakes but because…they don’t have kids.
My first exploration of a seated meditative practice started when I lived in Malibu, I’d wander down to the serene and picturesque Lake Shrine meandering, taking my time, the single, care-free girl that I was. The setting there was exactly as I imagined it must be for one to reach different, better, higher states of consciousness.
It turns out the perfect, peaceful environment isn’t the optimal meditative training ground for those of us who are ‘of the world’ because um, well, life.
From a great article ‘A Real Reason to Meditate’.
Many of us are drawn to meditation for some goddam peace. A reprieve from the incessant thoughts, emotions and frustrations that inevitably accost us as we wander through this world. It’s a hideous moment when we realize that potentially this meditative game isn’t going to be quite what we’d hoped, that the peace we believe we seek is elusive and maybe even a trick.
In the Vedic tradition of meditation, normal people like us are called Householders. We’re not nuns or monks who have forsaken many earthly responsibilities (and pleasures) removing ourselves to live a life of quiet contemplation. Instead we choose to exist in the thick of jobs, relationships, family, social media, capitalism, pandemics, elections and everything else in between.
I believe a Householder meditator is like an athlete training at high altitude. The noises, the frustrations, the-juggling-of-the-time to fit practice in around job/family/friends are like reps at the gym. Those reps that are a struggle, the very last ones where you’re sweating and shaking and just want to stop—they’re the ones that build strength. By strength it’s really important to clarify that aggressive, forceful strength is counter-productive in a meditative sense. This isn’t about grit and stamina. What we’re building are in fact the muscles of compassion, patience, and acceptance and with nourishment we get stronger at being gently steadfast and true.
Life becomes our spiritual practice. For me motherhood was the first relationship where there was quite literally no escape. And where there’s long-term commitment, inevitably your ‘stuff’ starts to rear it’s ugly head.
“There's a common misunderstanding among all the human beings who have ever been born on the earth that the best way to live is to try to avoid pain and just try to get comfortable.” ― Pema Chödrön
When I was a single-Mum, that’s when finding time to practice really felt overwhelming. The endless and lonely nights of Jack’s wake-ups, also settling into co-parenting, living back in NZ after 8-years in Los Angeles, and navigating the scheduling of being a working-Mama felt like an abrupt kick in the teeth. In that highly activated, survival state it seemed as though no longer did I have the old luxury of time. Where were my mornings, my evenings? And now I was responsible for two humans, both of which were very controlling…
Still I practiced. I knew that the bi-products and benefits of making this simple practice a priority were an absolute necessity. My nervous system thanked me, each time. And it was revealed that I did have time. I got clever, I got crafty, I found time. Little snippets of time rather than large chunks. I became more resilient and adaptable. I used my time differently. Into my practice I now integrated a little boy. I softened. Meditating with a toddler yelling in the background was a far cry from those peaceful moments at the Lake Shrine. It was hard. Really awful and lonely often. Talking to other Mothers who had daily practices released some of the pressure as I discovered they all struggled the same. Pema Chödrön’s writing was also comforting as she has the profound life-experience of having had a family and relationship breakdown, and then becoming a Buddhist nun—which is reflected in her conveyance of deep ancient concepts in a very relatable way.
Our spiritual practice isn’t something we ‘go off and do’. It’s woven into the fabric of our everyday life. Our spiritual practice is our job, our annoying partner, motherhood.
The reality is that life is hard, heartbreaking and often appears a disappointing contrast to our fantastical imaginings. It’s is also miraculous and bursting with aliveness, beauty, grace, kindness. They are two sides of the same coin and I saw both reflected back to me through my relationship with my son. To understand this paradox and not get fixated on things being a certain way is the key to happiness. I believe we may even call that equanimity.
I learned that my practice doesn’t have to be perfect, and what I thought was perfect was nonsense. It’s also very easy to assume another’s situation is better/worse/easier than our own—the Ego loves to compare, compete and play the victim.
I also learned that everything has a season and now as my son is six and sleeps through the night and can read books and entertain himself, things are different. Not better or worse, just different. I actually miss the old days and that little voice roaring at me from the cot.
Some of my teachers are single-people, some have families. Some work other jobs as well as teach meditation. They all have lives—i.e they are ‘of the world’ each with their own set of challenges, relationship dynamics.
We could disappear off and live on an ashram—although if you’ve ever done a Vipassana retreat you’ll know that those ‘silent’ experiences are anything but quiet. Or, you could postpone your practice for the perfect time—when the kids have left home or when you’re under a palm tree on a child-free holiday. But then you'd miss the best bits. The bits that are messy and excruciating. Even on that holiday you’d have to deal with sunburn and mosquitoes.
You’d also miss the sense of accomplishment when you stay the path, when you set a boundary or access a different part of your resolve.
To any Mamas and Papas out there—especially if you do a lot or all of the parenting solo—in the depths of parenthood with babies that wake and toddlers who have tantrums, let it all be—the feelings, the frustrations. You’re not alone, you’re normal and it won’t last forever. These are the moments that give life its depth and meaning, and honestly if you can meditate through early parenthood you’ll be able to meditate through anything. And if you need additional support, don’t hesitate to get in touch.