Zen and the art of motherhood

A couple of months ago, I read the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. The second third of the book takes place in an Indian ashram, where Gilbert works on her meditation skills. It's hard for her at first, and she finds herself fighting against allowing herself relax. At one point, she decides that she's going to sit in stillness for a whole hour. One night at twilight, she goes to a garden in the ashram, finds a spot on a bench, and starts her sit. Just seconds into her hour, she gets swarmed by mosquitos and realizes she has a decision to face-- she can give up and try again later, she can spend the hour swatting mosquitos, or she can just go with it. She picks the final choice and finds it an empowering experience.

I've done a little bit of yoga in the last few years, and one of things I like best is learning not to react to pain. It's when I react and contract my muscles that the pain is really pain. I've also started to research natural childbirth a little bit in the last few weeks, and discovered that many ncb techniques treat pain just like yoga does-- hang out with it and you'll probably learn it's not so bad. It's the anticipation of pain and the reaction to it that makes it really unbearable. I think the same idea applies with learning to react appropriately to things other people do to us. If we react with anger, it's a lot more painful for us than if we react more calmly.

So how does all of this relate to motherhood? A day or so ago, an online friend asked a bunch of us what we feel like we need to do to be better mothers. For me, I think it's been a continual process of learning to be happy in the present. I'm a better, more attentive, less selfish mother when I'm a happy mother. But I'm also a mom to 3.5 kids who are home all the time, in the hottest, stickiest part of nation in the summer, and my husband works 80 hour weeks. So I'm inside with the kids all the time, with very little opportunity to recharge in peace.

The last few days I've been trying to have a less reactionary approach to motherhood. Instead of complaining about my groundhog day existence (thanks Liss), I'm trying to accept it. Getting yet another cup of milk for the kid who didn't ask when I was getting milk two minutes ago doesn't provoke automatic grumbles. I think it helps-- at least a little bit. The structure that seems so monotonous to me gives security to my kids, and that's a good thing. At the end of the day I'm worn out with the day's exertions, but I don't feel like I've been picking at mosquito bites all day.

It hasn't been totally painless. But you know what, I'm almost always sore after a great yoga class, and I think that the idea that birth can be totally painless is boohuckey, but it hasn't seemed quite so tedious. And sometimes, like after a great run or a great yoga class, the pain of being stretched to my limits can feel pretty darn great.

--originally published 7/18/06