Tag Archives: finding your source

Is the bar is too high for you?

I’m sorry, but the bar has already been set by two people in my life, not to mention all of my life experience. You, half heartedly trying, just don’t seem to be able to reach it, it is obvious you think you can if you wanted to.

The bar is set by all these moments in my memory that showed genuine caring. You have not demonstrated any of them yet, if you are hesitating, it’s about to be too long. If you are holding back in fear of hurts, it will only lead to that. If you want love with me it has to be shown. My life taught me love by the way it feels, that’s what I’m looking for, and I am seeking only more of that.

Those moments, here’s a few to contemplate:

  • Fixing my drinks and food taking time to acknowledge all of the things I’ve learned about my body, so the nutrition comes without any nasty side effects.
  • The kind of caring that I could feel the energetic ripple of hurt and anguish when we both watched the semi-truck attack in France via Reddit.
  • Caring where we can sit for hours and talk not just about the weather and current events; but goals, hopes, dreams, and deeply held beliefs, and make plans, action steps, to accomplish some of them.
  • Acknowledgement that we do share an energetic connection both in good and bad, and of course the good arousal that comes with that. The deeper experience, not relying on mere good looks and physical attraction, and willingness to ride through the downs to enjoy spectacular ups.
  • The feel of comforting gestures of true concern, the caresses and embraces.
  • Taking time to find not just one, but many shared goals and dreams, a multiplicity of common ground, and the ensuing conversations of the many ways those could play out together in a shared experience.
  • A desire to love and be loved, shown through a myriad of small things that ultimately amounts to a desire to please me often just because you care.
  • Words of encouragement offered when I am down, but more a helping hand when you could otherwise easily opt out, and especially when you have a really good reason not to (Nathan helping at his pace, as he is able, instead of playing the ‘weak-heart card’ to get out of everything.)
  • A strong desire to have family with me and contribute to the growth of another human being with potential to help this world. A shared goal of being good parents and role models regardless of the massive amount of work and responsibility that entails. Even further, helping me when I have moments of failure in regards to that goal.
  • Moments where I am the lucky recipient of expressions of love, a desire to be with me, a desire to know everything about me, desires to have, hold, and support me and our connection. I rarely have to ask for those, and usually when I do, I’m the one having a weak moment where I can’t reach even recent memories of them.
  • The excitement of just getting to spend time with one, just the thought of getting to talk to one. Looking forward to togetherness.
  • The comfort of knowing I’m not alone.
  • The warmth of deep long hugs.
  • The smell of bouquets of flowers, healthy yummy foods, warm chocolate, and clean body next to mine.
  • The knowing that my support is received at some level of consequence, some sacrifice, that I’m honored in a moment over something else you wanted, I was the winner of your choice. My response will be eventually figuring out a way to reward you with both me and the thing you could have done. And knowing that my acknowledgement of that is reciprocated in like.
  • Holding my hand or other moments of affection, not afraid of demonstrating your love for me, because acceptance doesn’t deter your love.
  • Sharing moments of expressions of what we find beautiful in each other. Words do often matter because they are expressions of our feelings. Knowing we feel each other’s emotions, is given vivid highlights when those feelings find words on lips and in ears. The focus of the same vibration in two bodies, on 2 mouths, in 4 ears is wonderful. It becomes an amplification that welcomes more. [Side note: I bet that same amplification worked in group setting. Why do people pick sides and argue instead of finding common ground and expressions of caring?]
  • Helping me, or encouraging me, to keep my puzzle together or fix things when I lapse. That shows that you care about my well being. Sometimes being human means messing up and its effects are reduced when another shows that care. Life happens, no one is perfect, but being there for another makes it better.
  • Understanding when words fail. Words on ears can amplify good vibrations, but sometimes lips can’t find the right words. Being able to understand and respond to, what’s failing to be expressed, is immensely important. When joy is so great that silence calls and tears fall in everyone’s eyes the experience is still shared and amplified. When grief chokes a throat and tears fall, but are met with a gentle shoulder and hug, the grief is lessened. Those moments are our divinity gracing our lives. Those are our connection.
  • To feel another and know another on a level which others find disbelief, is a gift that everyone in this world deserves, but few rarely find, and even fewer can express to the hopeful.

I love deeply and soulfully, and I seek the same. All are still welcome in my life, as we associate with many people in many ways in our lifetimes. However, if love with me is desired, one has to allow that soulful connection to blossom. I prefer to look at blossoms. I prefer to hold blossoms. I may be occasionally easily distracted and frequently too busy to stop and smell the roses, but when I do they get my undivided attention for as long as I can spare (and sometimes I just want to be buried in all the roses).

I can only fix me.

This morning started with oversleeping from exhaustion. My infant is still not sleeping solidly through the night, we’re moving, and I’m going on 45 days without any downtime, knowing my next ‘day off’ will encure more heavy lifting.

I made it to work with 5 minutes to spare- only because we grabbed a breakfast bowl from QT, sans the cheese. I get to work and I’m confronted with chatty-Cathy that has spouted a whole mess of broad biased and bigoted generalizations like you’d hear on Fox news, and YouTube followed that with a notification to listen to Cranberries’ “Linger” with Spanish translations.

After the chatty-Cathy I ruminated on writing a long apology to the world. Apology for such an insignificant readership to actually matter, apology that my voice isn’t bigger/louder, apology for the attitudes of middle-class mostly-white over-55 Americans, apology that I’m not able to rise myself up higher/faster to make it known we’re not all like that.

I thought about telling the world to just ignore and walk away from America. That we’ve lost sight of real morals and values (not to be confused with cheap propaganda morals/values) and helping human kind. That America is full of racist bigots that will cast blame on anything and everything someone with any shade of color does, from stealing from our welfare system to opening business here on the American dollar and not paying taxes, both of which chatty-Cathy said within 5 minutes of me walking in.

But then if the world does walk away from America, what’s to come of the few of us genuinely striving for better. What if those few of us eventually need to flee America, where would we go if the world turns it’s back on us.

I realized that I was ruminating from scared, tired, lost and feeling alone. I listened to “Linger” knowing the song well already.

I realized I am a fool, things do go wrong, shit does stink, and sometimes this world sucks badly. I can’t apologize for everything that goes wrong when I’m not in control of those things. I’m also not a victim and refuse to be blamed for every thing that happens, especially when I’m not involved and not around to contribute, and especially when I know I’m already doing my best to help and be a good citizen.

Thus the only thing in my control is working on myself.

I can only vote using my conscious, ignore naysayers and those that insist on following status quo, focus on making my vote fall in alignment with my inner being’s knowing.

I can only focus on finding happy and my next step of improvement.

I can only battle the things that bug me long enough to find a solution. The solution is truly the answer, the battle only begets more battle.

I can only complain long enough to help refocus into a definition of what I need/want, because again complaining begets more complaining, and the solutions are really what I need.

I can’t let things bug me, or I’ll end up being eaten alive by concerns, fears, worries, and guilt.

I can’t keep existing trying to please others all the time. People are finicky and promise things they can’t fulfill. Swear they care, to turn and walk away. Say they like or love something until there’s a cloudy day or they’re simply not feeling like it today. Ask contradictory things of me to either challenge me or prove that I’ll fail, and either way it only accomplishes tearing me down and apart. Say they care to turn and blame me for everything that goes wrong for them. There are only so many apologies I can give before realizing that those apologies fall on deaf ears.

I’m done waisting my breath and heart. I’ve gotten much better at being much quieter, nodding and moving on, even with my own 4 year old. One day I’ll fix myself enough to attract people willing to work as hard as I do, willing to own their own crap as much as I do, willing to improve themselves as much as possible, and willing to work on finding improvement as much as I do, and willing to commit as much as I have.

For now, I must do better at one thing only: finding my happy and my next step of improvement.

The world will continue to be, for better or for worse, with richer and poorer, with birth and health and sickness and death.

All things are in this world and I must do my best to find the best I can, and leave the best mark I can. I must be there for the Divine/God, for good, for myself, for my husband and family. In that order even, as the first 2 really help to be there for myself and my family. That then becomes my legacy by default- was I there for my family enough that they saw my improvement and learned how to find their own improvement.

I wish that for everyone. If we can all accomplish that, eventually this world will seem a much better place. You’ll never eliminate the negatives, but the positives can weigh heavier in our experience, and enrich all of our lives. I wish that for all of you. Be well my dear readers. Find your happy today and most of all days.

Already on the bus.

So I’ve finished reading “The Energy Bus” and realize now that I’ve already gotten my bus going. It’s been a slow start, bumpy ride, with a few breakdowns already, but my bus is generally pointed the right direction and moving.

Really I’ve been driving my bus for a while, but just need more focus and helpful passengers

I have my committed passengers, in for the full ride- my family by marriage and by giving birth.

I have my semi-committed or part time riders, people in my daily and work life that are generally as helpful as they can be, but can’t necessarily stay for the whole ride. Sometimes they’re on and sometimes they’re busy on their own bus.

I have at least one passenger, maybe 2 or 3 that I’m hoping are like the character Michael. Where they removed themselves, but ultimately come around, and end up finding themselves wanting to make positive changes too, and join my bus again. That would be nice, not just for my bus, but for them- their state of being- and because it will validate messages I got what seems like forever ago. May we all master only feeding the good dog.

So far I’ve already ejected a few of what was termed “Energy Vampires” from my bus, and there’s one big one that needs to go yet. Fortunately, those from my biological family have mostly removed themselves from my life, so that’s one less hurdle.

With all that being said, this book leaves me acknowledging I have steps to go yet.

I have used this blog to write about Atira many times, but it’s scattered through multiple posts and partial posts, and I’m not sure I’ve ever reinforced the entirety of the complexity of that to those on board my bus, even if part time. I think it would help to get more concise with my desires, vision, and focus so that there is one document I can reference. Maybe even to give them copies.

I still have a ways to go to ensure I’m only feeding the good dog, and fueling my bus with positive energy. I have the basic idea, but have some practicing to do to maintain it, because I do let fear and stress get the better of me frequently.

Also, I totally spend too much time worrying about people that don’t get on my bus. I will get better at acknowledging maybe it’s too soon for them or they have other reasons for not joining my route. It’s not personal to me, it’s personal for them and their journey.

Additionally, I still have a ways to go on demonstrating my own enthusiasm and love. I already do both, but often allow myself to be easily deflated, especially when my efforts go unnoticed, unacknowledged, or unresponded to. Then once I’ve been deflated, I definitely still struggle to get back up and give another go.

I also need to find my purpose in everything better. It’s easy for me when what I’m doing is part of my vision for Atira, but much much harder when my task-at-hand is seemingly unrelated. That is evidence of not fully knowing that “everything happens for a reason”. I must trust more and find how everything relates. How does what I’m doing fit with my journey and fuel my bus.

Lastly, a huge must: start having more fun and enjoying the ride more. It’s not that I don’t at all, but I really succumb to stress easily. I’m latching onto the books’ phrase “you can’t feel stressed when you feel blessed”. That is my biggest new goal. To be “too blessed to be stressed”.

With that I wanted to share the list of rules the book went over:

And finally, I wanted to share an Abraham Lincoln quote (below) from the book that really resonated with me. My life journey fine-tuned to that direction after the online stranger woke my dreams up in me. I realized I may fail, I may never actually get there, but giving up all together- ignoring who I’ve become- is far worse than failing. I must remain true to who I am and where I’d like to go, if I’m to ever find consistent happiness and have any chance at all of possibly making it there. I want my light to shine bright from here until my dieing days.

Again, thank you for hanging in with me and joining at least the written part of my ride. I sincerely hope you benefit from my words in one way or another.

Bhagavad Gita meets Abraham

So, if you’ve read my blog, you may be aware I’ve come in contact with many things that most Midwestern American young white women would have no clue of their existence.

Partly this was due to my own inner knowing early on, that my parents religious path left much to be desired for me personally. Also it was partly due to a very unique set of individuals I met growing up.

In middle school I had friends of several different Christian faiths that allowed me to visit their churches. What I discovered was that I didn’t really mesh with any of the churches completely.

By highschool, I had read books on Zen Buddhism, Taoism, other eastern paths, and had learned quite a bit about my ancient ancestors which were most likely druids.

I had one friend that moved into the same small school I did, within months of my moving in. That friend introduced me to Wicca and reading her books, I knew it was headed the right direction. Another friend lived there her whole life, but her parents’ home was the regional Buddhist temple and I was fortunate to meet the Lama on one of his visits to Iowa. It was a very special afternoon, one I still remember vividly because I felt very clearly when something said resonated and when it didn’t.

Then by sophomore year I’d read “Siddhartha” and “Iliad and Oddessy” as part of my academic endeavors. I&O for a lit class and Siddhartha for academic decathlon. Both instructors guiding the readings commented that I seemed to get much more out of either story than most ‘kids my age’. They were right, much of both stories resonated deeply, but there were still gaps in what I was searching for.

We lived near Maharishi University, and many people in the Iowa city area followed their teachings, so my next stop was to see what I might glean from their teachings. I discovered meditation and had learned basics of many Hindu concepts. That seemed to fill many of the gaps I felt. In an effort to know more, I read more. That was my first reading of the Bhagavad Gita.

I’ve begun rereading the BG because it didn’t stick as well back then. However, in reading it for a second time, I’m now almost tempted to reread the others (time being the only hindrance).

What I’m discovering is that language barriers in translations probably hindered my understanding somewhat in the first reading. This time I’m understanding much more of what is being said and I’m amazed at how much of it overlaps with Abraham Hicks teachings. It makes me wonder if the same thing happened with “Siddhartha” and “Iliad & Oddessy” in particular.

I know both books’ translations were well respected versions, and I remember clearly some scenes being so enthralling for me that it was as if my brain turned them into movies .

For instance in “Siddhartha” there is an excerpt where the main character meditates by a stream and sees all the faces of his life experience, in the stream. It led him to the understanding of how we are all part of one greater energy stream. When I read that part of the story, it was as if I was sitting by the stream having that experience. It was vivid and real, and I fully and completely understood exactly what was being conveyed.

I was roughly 14 when I read that.

I was only a year or so older the first time I picked up the Bhagavad Gita. So if my new reading is so eye opening, with this text, I can’t imagine the response I’d have with another pass on Siddhartha.

For instance:

In the BG’s 4th chapter/book titled “The Way of Renunciation of Action in Knowledge” the 18th verse/line reads: “He who sees inaction in action, and action in inaction is intelligent among men, he is a yogi and a doer of all action.”

To me I hear a direct echo of Abraham talking about how uninspired physical action is useless and unproductive, but if one meditates and finds inspiration in meditation, then any action based upon that inspiration is bound to be successful. Abraham has said it many ways, but regardless of the words the meaning is the same. Inactive meditation followed by inspired action is the best and most effective, wisest use of our lives.

Who knew that there was so much overlap?!

Abraham probably did!

Heck somewhere in my mind it had to have registered. Yet, another thing Abraham is right about. If you’re not ready to receive the information, then no amount of exposure will line you up with it.

Just because I read the text years ago didn’t mean it registered, that’s why I even acknowledged a reread couldn’t hurt. I knew I’d missed things, and it just didn’t stick over time.

Now that I’ve heard the information from a western perspective, and accepted it’s applications in my life, it’s starting to sink in. That has led to seeing the missed variations that I’d already read years before.

For me this is merely validation that I’m on the right track. I’d already read it years ago, but over time I’ve been exposed to variations from throughout history, and it’s finally making sense. I’m finally understanding and seeing it working, and rereading one of the early examples causing a ‘seeing it for what it is’ realization.

It’s like hiking a path to the top of a crest and looking down the crest one way, and looking back down the path and connecting just how far you’ve come.

It feels good.

I think I’ll finish the Bhagavad Gita just to solidify for myself that I’ve gotten what I can out of it.

May you all have your AhHa moments this week and have that sense of accomplishment. It is good to feel that sense of ‘coming so far’ to know where you’ve been.

Oscillating again.

I’m having a devil of a time attempting to stay buoyant these days. Between the discouraging lack of affordable decent housing, and being unable to let go of and move on from the boy, I keep finding myself in the hole. It doesn’t help that my depression puzzle pieces keep falling out of place, not all at the same time, but it seems I struggle to keep 3 or 4 of the six together at any given moment. It definitely contributes to my down-ness.

Anyway, this post is intended to get my mind on happy thoughts for as long as I can, so it might end up being long (apologies in advance).

 My goal is to show what I would love for the inside of my home to look like. Right now I’m really, really far from my desired look, and no one picture or item conveys the complexity of what I want. So I’m going to show as many elements as I can and describe what I like about them or why. 

My examples are pulled from online(google), and there’s a bunch of pictures, so I didn’t cite their sources. However, most of them, the screen shots caught the descriptions, so you’re welcome to get to them that way. I just want to clarify that these are all found images that I happen to appreciate, I take no credit for their existence.

So to start, I wanted to show furniture styles that I have always liked. I love furniture that looks clean and simple, but also is very functional. These pics are things that represent styles I’ve always liked. The qualifier here is I also like color, so even though these are muted colors, I’d rather have beautiful shades of reds and greens and blues. 

The sofa I love because it’s not only a guest sleeper, but it has a huge storage compartment under the chaise, and it’s affordable.

Chairs: I still like clean lines and simple designs, but I much prefer high back chairs for good back and neck support.

Chaise: I don’t know why, but I’ve always wanted just one of these. Perhaps it’s because several of my favorite novels from years back had one in their story lines.

Bedroom happiness: more clean lines, more organization. Color, in the bedroom, for me, falls in linens, curtains, and wall colors, so I’m OK with neutral colored furniture. I usually prefer lighter neutral furniture, but I do think I’d like to try having the dark woods in my own bedroom for a change. The more easy storage the better, it helps reduce and eliminate clutter.

I’d love to have a huge closet with built in customized shelves and drawers, but the more realistic, regular life solution is the very affordable Ikea beauties I like below. Mmmm that  would be nice.

Finally the environment: I do love color. I have always loved color like you find in Mexico, Greece, India, and China. At one point I thought it would be amazing to have a room decorated with each feel in mind. I also thought it would be great to have color themed bedrooms like castles in England… ” you’ll be staying in the blue (or green, etc.) room, just down the hall, first door on the left”. I’m not sure I’d actually go that far, but it’s a nice idea. So, with that in mind, here are some color schemes I found that I like.

The first three images, I also love the open spaciousness and simplicity. I love that they look clean, and homey, but not filled with clutter. Just enough artwork to be  interesting, but not too much for the eyes to take in.

More themed color and great storage.

These last 3 I really love the colors, but they are a bit more busy and cluttered looking than I’d like.

So now, you have a good idea of what I’d love for my home to look like. I’m sure there’s more I could elaborate on, but this is definitely a good start, and spending the time looking for pics and writing about the results definitely got my mind in a better place. That much was a great success. Here’s to more up moments, and hopefully to a great birthday soon as well.

ReBirthing

Normally re-birthing is a process that happens over a few hours in a therapists office. It’s a very specific process that is intended to uncover and work through issues that center around birth and very early childhood, and the resulting body-memory/energy/emotional-set-point  that a person could potentially carry indefinitely.

For me, I have essentially experienced this as a gradual unwrapping over approximately the last 2 weeks (a bit more perhaps). It as happened in little snippets of those intuitive flashes I reference so often. For me the flashes happen as images, short clips like YouTube videos or memories, and sometimes feelings, sounds, and even muscle memory. Anyway, I’m going to relay my unfolding to the best of my ability, and what it has helped me figure out, so that others might be able to glean similar progress.

——-

The Facts I know of my birth from parental stories:

-I was delivered by Cesarean (c-section). My mom was lightly sedated, so upon delivery my father was the first to hold me. Story goes I immediately peed on him and the nurses has to change his gown.

-My mom had blood sugar issues, but no treatment. It was a time when gestational diabetes was still a new-ish diagnosis and diet suggestions were made but not even strictly enforced, no medications were used because they were not widely accepted as safe during pregnancy.

-The doctor was a short man (my dad thought that was hilarious and has joked about it repeatedly over my life) that needed a step stool for delivery. His name Dr. Gupta, he was from India.

-At birth I was Jaundice and spent a few days in critical care nursery. My level of jaundice was so intense my skin looked orange and my dad nicknamed me pumpkin. I also didn’t want to eat for several days, but was tickled into nursing/bottle feedings to keep me hydrated. It necessitated at least an hour of direct sunlight (4 hours suggested) daily to help bring the jaundice down. It took about 2 weeks for my skin to return to relative normal color.

-At the time my mom was the only significant income in the family, so she only had 2 weeks off  (whatever the minimum was for the incision to heal) and went back to work.

———-

Facts about me in general:

-I require regular sunlight or I get depressed.

-I have been told I’m borderline diabetic and was considered Gestational Diabetic during my son’s pregnancy/birth. I controlled the pregnancy and my current state with Diet, Exercise, and certain Supplements.

-When I am very depressed or in a moment of severe negative emotions, my inclination is always to rock myself. I literally sit in a quiet space and close my eyes and rock my body back and forth like in a rocking chair. It is nearly always the only thing that helps when I’m at my worst.

-I don’t believe that I have actual conscious brain memory of my birth, but there is possibility of subconscious memories or body/muscle memory.

——

The intuitive flashes I’ve “received”, which may or may not be 100% accurate, please know that these all happened in meditative space, I have not consumed any mind altering drugs:

-I had a visual clip of the doctor rocking and rocking my bassinet in the nursery and humming/singing quietly to me.

-I had a similar clip of my dad’s early interactions, lots of bouncing, holding me and touching me with furrowed brows and very stiff movements. Another clip of the moment after I peed on him, being held in mid air (almost like Simba from Lion King) while nurses wiped my dad off and put a new gown or blanket over him.

-I had a moment where I felt the sensations of the rocking in the nursery, the lights seemed too bright so I closed my eyes, I felt very scared and wanted to cry, and then the rocking started and the humming/soft singing started shortly after.

-I had a moment where I felt very scared because I didn’t know where mom went. Dad was there but I really felt like “I want mom”, again making me feel like crying.

-I had a visual of my mom in the rocking chair by the window (at home), rocking me and singing.


My current interpretation based on all of those elements put together:

Mom was all I knew before birth. I perceived her as being my protector. Yet, she was unable to protect me from sugar, and I got far too much sugar while in-vitro. She did her best, and especially after birth, once I was home, she really worked hard to try and make up for it, rocking and rocking me, singing to me, like the doctor had done.

My dad loved me, but being a man from his generation, didn’t really understand how to interact lovingly with a newborn. Men were simply not taught how to do that. He was doing his best, but I as an infant without words could tell he was just different from mom, and I wanted the feeling place of mom, really I wanted the feeling place of what the doctor started.

As an adult I’ve learned a lot about alternatives. I perceive the doctor, even though he functioned through western medicine, probably had beliefs regarding spirit and it’s ability to heal because of his upbringing. I think that immediately he saw a beautiful baby girl, that was very special (I’m certain that my skin tone evoked memories of certain rituals in India) and that he knew I needed a little extra TLC. I think he was so touched by my appearance that he simply wanted to help me heal. He would have gone to his upbringing and did what would have been done in India. Attempting to connect me with my inner self, my spirit, to heal my body. So, he didn’t hold me directly, knowing that babies can get attached to those first few people in their lives. He rocked my cradle and sang to me, helping to calm me and soothe me so that my body could heal.

Now he probably thought that not actually holding me for any length of time exempted him from me getting attached. Unfortunately my new understanding is that I did anyway. For the first few days of my life, he was the only significant interaction outside of my mother at nursing time. Holding me or not, his interactions helped to soothe me and did help to heal me, so I attached anyway. His presence was a God send in an otherwise harsh sterile environment, and I now have no doubt that it was a major influence in decisions that I have come to over time. I simply didn’t know that I was making decisions based upon that interaction.

What do I mean?

I went searching for that feeling place early on in life. I was in 4th grade the first time I tried someone else’s church: a Pentecostal church (prior to that we’d gone solely to dad’s Mormon church). The Pentecostal church was fun, but didn’t give me that feeling. By the end of middle-school I’d been to the Quakers, Lutherans, Methodists, and Catholics. By high-school I’d read the Bible (blaech-boring and so damn convoluted with contradictions), Sidhartha, most of the Tao de Ching, and had looked up tons information on Confucianism and Zen Buddhism. I was a junior in high-school the day that my friend Erin invited me to her home, which doubled as the Buddhist temple, to speak with Lama Renpoche. It was a very expansive experience, being 2 hours of 5 high-schoolers speaking with an esteemed Buddhist leader. It answered some of my questions, but not all of them. It was about that time that I started learning about Paganism and Hinduism. Between the knowledge of the 3 paths, I found mine. I called myself pagan, because no other label really fits, no one box label is truly accurate, because honestly I just blend what works for me. Adding hindsight about the birth, explains why I resonate with mantras, it’s likely that that is what the doctor was singing to me. Regardless the feeling place of being rocked in the cradle with the mantras being sung is evoked when I meditate, and I would not have found meditation if not for learning about Buddhism and Hinduism. So the attachment to that doctor guided me to find the knowing.

Fast forward, and my birth again guided me when I went to have Ian. I knew that I wanted my child to have an amazing birth. A loving birth. Essentially, I wanted my child to have the experience that I was denied, I wanted the opposite of my birth. I went to great lengths to ensure a home water birth while having “Gestational Diabetes”. I stuck to it because I was deciding for someone that had no say. And I did.

Ian’s birth was nearly perfect. 12.5 hours of labor, as gentle as could be. Soothing warm water surrounded me for three quarters of it. Ian was born in occiput posterior (OP) position (really most of labor was that way), but my midwife was unfazed by the positioning and so I was fine too. I knew I was in capable hands and that helped the birth experience go great. Ian was born, and with the exception of a very brief removal of the cord from his neck, I was the first person to hold, to touch my child in those soothing warm waters. Dad (Nathan) reached forward around me and held his tiny hand. It was a very soothing wonderful experience. Even when we finally got out of the birth tub, it was 10 steps to bed and cuddle time for essentially 24 hours straight. Blissful.

I have said and will continue to say that Ian’s birth went as perfectly as any mom could expect, and I know that a major part of that was my willingness to do whatever that took with diet, exercise, and mindfulness.

The only thing that I would have changed was how much time I took off of work afterward. I too was the sole income for our little family (perhaps another remnant of my birth re-manifesting), so I only got 3 weeks off and even during that 3 weeks I did work a little. I sincerely hope that Ian can forgive me for that when he gets older. We minimized my working as much as possible, but when you are the only source of money, it’s unavoidable to return to work sooner than you’d like.

My birth experiences as a baby led to greater effort on my part and decisions that produced entirely the opposite experience for my child. I am ever so grateful for that. I can not fully put into words the relief I felt when I realized that. It was a very healing realization.

That being said, I love myself even more. I appreciate that I was able to undo a well accepted and well established “necessity” to provide my child a loving birth. I appreciate that the energy of the birth experience far outweighed my desire to take the easy route with medicine and a hospital birth. I appreciate that my efforts will likely turn into better manifestations for my son later in his life, and hopefully a better understanding of my love for him.

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The only thing that remains from my rebirthing is this cycle of Indian men ‘loving and leaving’. I can see the pattern now. I can see that I keep inviting them into my life when I need help the most, my darkest hours. And like the doctor at my birth they duck out when the worst of the storm is over. It’s really more of a quiet unnoticed exit, as in you can’t see me, so now is my chance. This latest man is the 3rd such repeat of this cycle: one when I was a child in school, and the other -Rajesh- as an adult.

At this point, now that I see the pattern, I find myself reiterating that I would like for one of them to stay. I would like for one of them to love me enough to be a permanent part of my life. As much as I appreciate the healing they provided, I want to wipe the idea of detached from their slate. And perhaps it’s because I can see that even though they tried to remain detached, there is really no such thing. If I have these memories, I have these feelings, I have these associations, then there is an attachment- for better or worse.

You don’t remember things that you don’t care about. Do you remember what color your shoelaces were on a pair of shoes from 3rd grade? Do you remember what you ate for lunch the 3rd Monday of 4th grade? Do you remember all of your clothes from your entire childhood? No they were things that you were not attached to, so your brain didn’t lock them away. You might remember your favorite item or events from each school year, or your most precious toys, but you won’t remember them all. You simply didn’t attach to them all.

To me attachment is an inevitable subtle side-effect of caring. When you care, it affects you, and then you remember those things, those events, those places, those people. I want the things that affect me in that way to leave happy feelings, like childhood vacations and favorite meals.

Yet, my current experience of 3 of the 4 Indian men in my life is regret. Regret that I wasn’t able to convey my appreciation for them being there. Regret that they got away without knowing truly how much they helped me. Wishing that I had said or done something that would have led them to reconsider leaving. Wishing that they could have taught others in my life a better way (though that mostly pertains to the doctor in regards to my dad’s interactions).

So, it all boils down to love (thanks Ms. Hay :/ ). Those are all symptoms of love. Those are all aspects of interactions based on love. I couldn’t tell them that they helped me and that I loved them for it, and yet those that remained in my life were somehow unable to do what those men did. It also boils down to my ability to love myself and find that connection. Those men taught me how, but I don’t seem to be able to maintain it consistently to this day. I can’t spend all day sitting in the sun rocking myself and singing mantras. I can’t convince myself indefinitely that things will really be all right. Oh, I have my moments like that, I can do it for a few minutes here and there, even a few  hours at a time, but all day every day is where I slip. I have yet to find their level of zen. SO then I want them to stay, because maybe I could absorb it vicariously through them.

That’s probably not healthy either. It must be another lesson on learning to love myself. I find it interesting that every layer of the onion produces one round of healing and another yet to solve. I love and forgive myself over birthing experiences, but have yet to figure out a way to love and heal myself in regards to interactions with other adults. Perhaps the point at which my memories of the men no longer carry regret, I will have one decide to stay. But maybe that is just a belief needing revised too. Some days I feel like all of my work is on myself, and that the interactions with life are merely the filler.