Mother Daughter Yoga at Omega

It's that time again. Time to head down to Omega for Mother Daughter Yoga. This time it feels different though.

Is this the last time we'll do it? Remmy has just graduated from high school and next summer may be busy with a job and other things. Will we be too old of a pair to continue to do it?

As I prepare to be in a workshop that has us look at what our relationships are like and how much we appreciate our daughters and how we can acknowledge ourselves as mothers for what we didn't get acknowledged for, I'm afraid I won't be able to keep it together.

I live alone with my daughter. It's been just the two of us for sometime. The thought of her not being in her room or hanging out on the couch anymore scares me. What will my life be like in a few months when she's not around anymore? We didn't do practice rounds. She didn't go away to overnight camp or go on trips with other people. We've been together for such a long time.

I'm not at all sorry this is happening, in fact, it's what we've been working towards. But now the end is clearly in sight. The finish line is just up ahead. And then my heart will be ripped out of my body and stepped on and I'll be all alone. Okay, okay, it's not going to probably be like that. But I have feelings inside like it will be like that.

Pema Chodron's lineage teaches us to live life with a broken heart. Go around in our lives with that tenderness and vulnerability at times. I definitely have a broken, tender heart. And teaching yoga from that place this weekend, being there for others while I feel my own sad, proud, open heart, will be a challenge. (Don't worry, I've got this.)

Not Rushing the Brushing (Practical Meditation)

It took me awhile, but I finally got myself an electric toothbrush again a few months ago. I had one years ago (even blogged about it) but dropped the practice after awhile.

I started brushing my teeth and when I'd spent about as much time with the electric toothbrush as I would have with my old one, the new one made a noise. Or it vibrated differently. Something happened, and the toothbrush kept going. So I kept going. Then after awhile it did it again. "Hmm, that's weird, is this toothbrush trying to tell me something," I wondered.

Later in the day I was still thinking about it, so I looked in the manual that came with it. Those little vibes mark 30 second intervals and when the recommended brushing time is over, it does three in a row to tell you you're done. So smart! My old one didn't do the intervals!

That night, I'm getting ready to brush my teeth and it makes that first noise and I want to put it away. I mean, surely, four times of those beeps is too many. Then I remember it's the recommended time. I paid lots to see the dentist who suggested the toothbrush that suggests I brush my teeth for two whole minutes. 2 minutes! Of my Life! When I'm busy! I don't want to stop for two minutes of my life when I'm busy to do something for my health and well-being and then I listen to what I've just thought and look at who I am and I keep brushing.

A few days later and I'm brushing my teeth and I notice I'm back to making a commitment to do the whole four times, the whole two minutes. I still want to rush! Have I ever felt these feelings before? (See past blog post. See many, many times I meditated wanting to rush to the end.)

There's nowhere to go. I've already set aside the time. I know it's going to be good for me and still I want to rush it. To get where? To the next moment when I won't be brushing my teeth anymore or sitting on my cushion anymore. To the next moment when I'll be rushing to get out of that moment to be in the next one I can hardly wait to get out of.

Today I practice brushing with awareness. I take my time, but not too much time because the toothbrush will nudge me to move on. I have time to brush my teeth. I have time to meditate. I have time when I'm not rushing the brushing.