Thursday, October 2, 2014
When I finally surfaced this morning after yet another night of disrupted sleep, I overheard my husband say to my daughter, "Last night, Mummy gave me a magic cuddle!"
Our eyes met and I am pretty sure the look on my face was across between "I did?" and "You want to tell our five year old about this?". He went on to explain: "I heard Mummy get up to feed the baby at 4am. When I was still awake when she came back to bed at 5am, I thought, 'Oh no. I've been awake for so long now I'm not going to get back to sleep, just like last night.' But then Mummy cuddled into my back and I fell asleep straight away."
I had to smile. Other than my husband being incredibly sweet, I realised that he probably fell asleep the exact moment I was praying for a miracle.
I'm reading Marianne Williamson's A Return to Love at the moment. It is blowing my mind and I suspect it is a gateway drug to A Course in Miracles, though I'm also thinking I'll be glad I read Marianne's book first. The language of the Course seems pretty poetic and abstract, which is pretty unsurprising for a holy text. It's also heavily laden with Christian terminology.
One of the things I am loving about Marianne's book is that she helps translate the Course to make it accessible on an everyday basis. So God is, in fact, just everyday, garden variety, available-to-anyone LOVE. And a miracle is just a shift in mindset. (I can't quite remember what Jesus and the Holy Ghost were, I think I'll have to go back and take notes!)
So instead of praying on my knees to some Santa-like dude who sits up in the clouds and shakes his head to say, "Yeah, so what Kat. You're tired and feeling like crap. Whatevs. I've got Syria to think about." it's all about reconnecting with a compassionate part of myself that remembers I have the power to reframe my focus.
So when I prayed for a miracle at 5am, I was really saying, "I've been walking around for the past few days marinating in my own mythology that I completely suck as a mother and wife. I'm now opening up to the possibility that there is space to shift this mindset."
And the beautiful thing is, as Marianne really hammers home in her book, when we do this then amazing things can happen. Because we are all connected and love is what connects us: once we give ourselves up to this, we make space for all sorts of beautiful opportunities and choices.
So my husband fell into a deep sleep and so did I. And when I woke, he was up with our children and had fed them breakfast. Then he invited our daughter to go to work with him, not just because it would give me a break and relieve her holiday boredom but because he was genuinely excited to give her a tour of his new factory. He also promised to have her back in time for an afternoon playdate with a neighbour, which she was keen not to miss.
And when they left (in the highest of spirits, I might add), bambino had a long feed and went down to nap with ease. And I suddenly found that I had time to write and energy to spruce up the house, including changing bed linen... something I'd been meaning to do for a little while but had not yet found the time or energy (and was fast becoming yet another piece of evidence of how much I sucked.)
In my email prompt for Day 6 of August Moon, I described the physical feeling I get when I'm on a roll:
When something resonates with my soul, I know because I can feel butterflies soaring in my solar plexus. I feel lighter on my feet and walk taller. It's a deliciously impossible contradiction: my head is in the clouds but I feel more grounded in the everyday than ever; I feel dreamy but somehow that makes me more attentive and tolerant to the people around me.
Also, I stop craving sweet treats and I couldn't care less what I weigh. For this brief time, I don’t feel the need to numb out powerful feelings and there is no shame in them. The hopefulness is palpable and safe. And I can sit with a pen in my hand and words flow out of me as if I were but a vessel.
This is probably the zenith of feelings for me and it doesn't happen very often. It's very connected to a special kind of creativity that I've learned to harness for my writing.
But today, I am mindful of a slower, quieter type of energy that is no less powerful. It is the space that is made when I step out of ancient patterns that hold me to an inadequate and uncertain version of myself. It is the clarity that comes from choosing to view my daily life having removed the glasses that make it seem dull and exhausting and perennially unrewarding. It is an openness to the sacred in the everyday.
It is a return to love. And it truly does feel like a miracle.
This post is my response to Day Six of the August Moon reflective writing challenge. You are most welcome to share your own response to the prompt in the comments below.
Otherwise, the next opportunity to connect is Reverb in December. Join us?