Underneath it all

I drove my dad to school this morning. He is learning English in the senior center. He was dressed up as a good Russian student would and eager to socialize. When he was getting out of the car, our eyes met and I felt overflowing, all-encompassing, beyond-my-body love for my dad. I have had splashes of this feeling from time to time and it seems like new possibilities open up with each wave of love.

My dad and I haven’t had an easy history together. I grew up torn between my parents and confused, not knowing how to love them both at those times when they hated each other. If I loved them both, did that mean I was betraying the other? Did I need to choose sides?

Even when there are hard questions and deep sorrow in childhood, there is always a particular beauty. Certain freshness, genuine curiosity, and a sense of adventure are the greatest gifts childhood has to offer, and I appreciate that I still feel a strong connection to that part of me.

In our family dynamic I was often the savior and peacemaker, assessing situations with the precision of a laser micrometer and acting to smooth family tensions. 

I remember two episodes that were particularly hard for me to forgive my dad for. One time my dad hit my mom and she fell on the bed like grass cut down in a field.   I was afraid she was dead, and sat on the bed, crying and shaking her, shouting “MOM!” over and over and over.  I don’t remember how long she was down (it seemed like an eternity) before she stood up, took her basket, and went to the garden to pick up berries and sing. Another time after a party at our home Dad got drunk and Mom and I went to spend the night at the neighbor’s place. My home became unsafe for me that day.

I was so angry with my mom that she continued to live with my dad and enable his behavior. I didn’t understand how they could get along for a while and then more drama would unfold again, and yet they still stayed together.

When my mom died at 63, I blamed my dad for quite some time, believing that if they had had a better relationship she would have chosen to live longer.  

I have spent more time with my dad since my mom’s death, and I’ve heard more of his side of the story. And the more I revealed to my dad how I felt and the more I listened the messier our relationship got for a while until it resolved. 

Somehow, somewhere underneath it all I discovered there is an eternal pool of love. When I with curiosity attempting to find the word to describe the love pool, I drop in between words and just sink deeper into the feeling of love. I sort of forget for a while what I was looking for, and instead just feel it deeply and become the love that flows out of me, through me and my lips smile, as this is all they can say. 

The good news is I’m not the first or only person who has experienced this pool of love beneath a world of hurt.  And if individually we can get to this point of healing and embrace everything in love, can we do it collectively? 

I imagine that underneath all of humanity’s major wounds, discrimination and wars there must be an even larger pool of love. Can we be brave enough to enter that pool? Can we be brave enough even to conceive that it is possible to step into love and create out of love-- regardless of the pain that has been experienced?

I realize it takes time -- and I believe as more people open up to the possibility it will become easier. 

How easily can I create delightful change by loving What Is right now?

How easily can we create delightful change by loving What Is right now?

Love Bits from the Past in Your Present

I am transitioning, moving from this fabulous house where I have been living for the past seventeen months. Any moving experience, as you probably know, involves packing and sorting out. That’s what I was doing when I found my 18 year-old journal. Generally speaking, I am good at creating and destroying, so this colorful journal had to have some importance to survive several relocations. As I was browsing through the pages, I stumbled upon the intriguing title “My Son’s Pearls.”

I knew I saved it for a reason! 

He was two years old at the time, and as I read each of his sayings I remembered those joyful realizations of how brilliant kids are. So, I want to share some of my notes here to evoke and spread love.

“Mom, I loved being in your belly. Do you remember how you were in your mom’s belly?”

“No, I don’t, son.”

Artem (my son’s name) hesitantly…“Mom, when I grow up will I be that stupid, too? ”

A few pages later, probably six months after this conversation, another note:

“Mom, remember I asked you if you remembered how you were in your mom’s belly?”

“Yes”

“I am beginning to forget. I remember that when I asked you then I remembered, and now I don’t remember that feeling so well.”

I don’t know what sparked the following conversation:

“Artem, do you believe in God?”

“Of course, Mom. Everybody believes in God, only some people believe he exists and the others believe he doesn’t, but the word God is present in both conversations anyway.”

The next one is “Mom, I loved you even before I was born, and now I love you too.”

Here is the last one for tonight. This happened when I was concentrated on reading a book “How to love your child.” We were in the kitchen.  Artem was playing with his little cars on the kitchen table, imitating the full range of sounds of driving. My whole attention was in the book as I watched something cooking on the stove with one eye. “Mom, talk to me.” I was frantically thinking what I could ask him so he would quiet down, so I could read my “important book!”

So I said “Artem, what do you think love is?” “Love is…” he started and then got busy with imitating cars again. I was just beginning to settle back into the book, when he concluded, “Mom, love is a celebration of life.”

I remember looking at the two-year old maneuvering his toys around the table, making his funny sounds. He seemed to be so involved in his simple child life, and yet I realized he could teach me how to love him way better than any book ever could.

And he did.

And he does -- now as a 20 year old.

To be present as another human grows and unfolds is one of the greatest gifts there is. Enjoy.

Practical love.

The word "love" might seem illusive and not something that can be applied to practical matters. I want to share the real story about one of my clients that shows the practicality of loving magic.

For 11 years I worked with kids and teens with drug abuse issues. One winter morning a woman (I will call her Kate.) whose child was inhaling solvents came to the clinic.
She and her son hadn't spoken for two years. Every time she attempted to talk with him, he left the apartment. Kate knew that as long as her son was at home he was not with his friends huffing, so she would walk around her apartment building (-40 F outside) until the lights went out. That meant that her son was in bed and she could come home without fearing he'd leave to be with his dangerous friends. 
She shared her thoughts about how she had created this lack of relationship with her son.  She spoke of her pain, her disappointment, and of what she wanted.

I asked her to recall the first time when she held her newly born child, breastfed him, when the "newcomer" was so gentle, lovable, and perfect, when imagining a great life for him was so easy. (I often invite wonder and deep inquiry. I believe the power of a good question is priceless).
The hour session flew by and as Kate was leaving she asked: "Well, I feel it, I get it now, but how do I tell what I feel to my son? How do I make sure he listens?"

I didn't know.

 "I don't know," I said. "All I can say is that you look like a different person now than you were an hour ago. Let’s see what happens; keep me updated." (I often wish I had before and after pictures -- "before" I remembered love and "after".)

Next morning I had a paperwork day with no appointments scheduled. I walked to the clinic early in the morning, enjoying the snowflakes piling themselves on all the surfaces, including my coat. Kate was sitting on the bench by the clinic -- even before business hours. "I hope she didn't spend the night here," I thought. I had not expected her back so quickly. We nodded to each other and I gestured her to follow me.

“Ok, what’s happening?” I asked after we settled into the office chairs.

“I just came to say thank you,” she said. "Yesterday when I walked home, something had shifted in me. I realized that I love my child no matter what and I really felt love so present in my body. I decided to walk straight home as pure love and not worry about what happens. All I knew was that I love my kid and I want to see him. When I walked in, he was in the kitchen. He looked at me for a second and said ‘Mom, I’m about to eat. Do you want to join me?’ I almost fell down as he said this. After two years of silence, all of a sudden, he invited me for dinner – and I didn’t have to do anything, just open my heart. So I came to say thank you."

I don't know if you have tears in your eyes; I did at the time and I feel a sweet vulnerability now -- after twelve years of telling the story and experiencing the miracle.

"Thank You!” I said. "Thank you for your bravery, for your openness to loving without holding back, for loving regardless and without guarantee. Thank you for gifting me with this example."

This was the beginning of the path for them; the beginning of facing and moving through rough and sweet into what they want. The difference was they were doing it together now and from a whole new place. Last time I heard from Kate, her son had been accepted to college to study sociology.

Here’s to practical magic!

For tips on how to evoke a deep feeling of love to transform your life/relationship/health, follow the next blog.
Till then ...many episodes of practical loving magic to you.