Feeding a child's soul. It's easy. And easily forgotten. Kids need guidance, and mindfulness. Who of us knows what makes us happy, until we intentionally explore that question? For me and so many of my friends, this search begins sometime after childhood ends. Why the long delay?
Our children busy themselves trying to earn, retain, or confirm our love. Rich or poor, I see it all the time. They try to please us, even when we fear their rebellion. When in their day, at what time, do they feel free to explore their own joy?
Yesterday was Mother's Day. Harold concocted a lovely steak dinner, followed by a delightful desert of strawberries with chocolate fondue. In the space between dinner and desert, I asked Anne to clear the table. After all, Mother's Day requires I do nothing, yet feel pleased by everything. The pressure of that - it's another topic. Back to the table: Rather than put everything away, I wished for Anne to simply remove dinner items from our eating surface to make room for desert treats. I love feeling honored, and yet, I also felt ready for things to return to normal. I wanted to get on with it.
First came her plate. After bringing it to the counter she began asking for containers in which to store left-overs.
"For now, sweetheart, please just clear. We'll put away later."
"Oh! Sorry!" she begged.
Then came the butter tray. She also brought it over to the counter, began looking for the cover, found it, and placed it by the fridge.
"Anne, please, for now we're just removing items from the table. Please just leave them on the counter and we'll take care of them later."
"Oh! Right!" followed by a smile, again, asking forgiveness.
The last straw was her father's plate. She took it to the trash, and began scraping.
Her body began to visibly tighten. She felt frantic to me. Instead of a simple matter of listening and responding, it became something else entirely. And I began to worry, for the millionth time, for her soul. Her core. Her state-of-being.
When she appears to be checked out in this way, somewhat unresponsive, somewhere inside of herself she's shutting down. Worry takes over and her physiological response puts her amigdula in flight. She becomes unresponsive. The adult (thankfully not always me!) becomes frustrated, and the downward spiral beings.
She wanted to do right. It was Mother's Day. Somewhere in her mind the poisonous idea lurked: Mom must be entirely pleased, at every moment, with me and everything I do, all day and all evening long on this most special day of her year. Try living up to that one! A recipe for disaster for us both, indeed. So, the very second she sensed that I felt anything other than ultimate gratitude for her efforts at clearing the table, some part of her system felt...shock? shame? worry? Does it matter? Whatever she felt, it sent her amigdula into flight and she became unresponsive.
Trapped in my chair, unable to clean up myself, since after all, it was Mother's Day, my only recourse seemed analysis.
"Anne, what's going on? Even though I keep asking you to simply remove things from the table, and leave actually putting them away for later, you keep putting things away."
And then Harold wanted to know why things felt "tense". More gentle questioning from me, more introspection for Anne, time, search for strategies rather than blame, all those ingredients combined in some proportion to let us move on to the strawberries. Eventually.
We got there. She allowed as how maybe she wasn't responding. Honestly, the final resolution eludes me now. And truly, it's secondary.
Dirty dishes be damned! Messy counters will wait. What I want is for my daughter to know herself. I want her to better know herself so she can better care for the lovely being that she is. I want her to know herself so that she can experience love. She deserves to acquire, retain, and regularly use the skill of caring for herself. To me, her self awareness and care might look like this:
- If she knows that her chest is tightening, she notices, and tells herself to breathe more slowly.
- When her mind begins to race, she sees observes the speed and slow down.
- If she feels disappointed, she conciously decides tocreate something to which she can look forward.
It's soul care. Care for her core. Self-awareness. She can learn to sew, cook, change the oil, and write a resume. Yet, what good is any of that if she fails to care for her core being in this critical way?
So, the questioning begins:
"How do you feel?" I ask her a lot. Happy, sad, either way I ask the same questions. "How does your tummy feel? Your head? Your chest? What might you notice about your body right now?" It's important to me that she note the differences in her physical state. When she takes a moment to check in with herself, the next step becomes obvious. She knows what to do once she realizes how she feels, physically. It's more a matter of taking the time to figure out that critical piece, to answer that critical question: "What is my body telling me right now?" It's mindfulness.
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