This week Adrienne Rich died. She was known for her influential poems and defiant political stands, but she was also a mentor and visionary for many silent readers; women who read her work and recognized themselves but never spoke. I loved her work for it’s unapologetic uncertainty and her humanity. And I loved, especially, her brutal honesty about motherhood. She said what I felt but couldn’t say out loud.
“My children cause me the most exquisite suffering of which I have any experience. It is the suffering of ambivilence: the murderous alternation between bitter resentment and raw-edged nerves and blissful gratification and tenderness. Sometimes I seem to myself, in my feelings towards these tiny guiltless beings, a monster of selfishness and intolerance.”
There are teachers everywhere. The voices of wisdom abound, we must seek them out and spend time among them, especially when the voice is our own, hidden or silent. And we must allow our teachers their humanity, uncertainty and fallibility. We must be as compassionate with our wise ones as we are with our children. Be on the look out this week for the quiet voice of truth within and the wise women and teachers around us.
On The Mat-
Make time for yourself on your mat. Breathe deeply for long enough to quiet the chatter. Rather than move according to plan, allow your body to move the way it wants to, in this moment. Listen to the wisdom of your body as you slowly unfurl tension. It is in that relaxing of tension that we can hear our own voice. If you are struggling with “raw-edged nerves” say to yourself, like Sylvia Boorstein does, “Sweetheart, you are in pain. Relax. Take a breath. Let’s pay attention to what is happening. Then we’ll figure out what to do.” ― Then rest, rest deeply for a few minutes so that you have then energy to feel the “blissful gratification and tenderness”.
Off The Mat-
Make time to cultivate relationships with wise elders who are no longer actively parenting. While you are waiting to recognize them in your midst, collect quotes of your wise ones and post them. It can feel like they are here with you, talking to you. You are never alone. Even when lonely. Adrienne Rich writes:
“O.K., then, yes I’m lonely as a plane rides lonely and level on its radio beam, aiming across the Rockies for the blue-strung aisles of an airfield on the ocean”
But you have your own radio beam that is aiming for the truth, along with all the other planes seeking the “blue-strung aisles of an airfield on the ocean”
“May we all be safe, may we be wise, may we be alone together.”
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