This sounds pretty simple; it is not.
Not only that, but for me, locating time to lie quietly and breathe in a household of three children is difficult. Convincing them that what I am doing is actually homework is mission impossible. But the toughest part is trying to concentrate, stay present with the breath, and not allow my mind to go bonkers when they (inevitably) interrupt.
My daughter wanders in, seeing me lying on the floor, eyes closed.
“Mommy. Mommy. Mommy.
My daughter wanders in, seeing me lying on the floor, eyes closed.
“Mommy. Mommy. Mommy.
Mommy?
Mommy??! MOMMY!!!!!!”
I pop off the floor -- "WHAT!????!! -- I’m doing my homework!"
I pop off the floor -- "WHAT!????!! -- I’m doing my homework!"
“Homework?” she replies, “I wish that was MY homework.”
I do a mental eye roll. This is not easy; my breathing homework is hard. Breathwork digs up emotions, breaks down barriers; breathwork is WORK. I lie back down, close my eyes, and try to resume my practice. Relax the body; quiet the mind; notice my breath.
I do a mental eye roll. This is not easy; my breathing homework is hard. Breathwork digs up emotions, breaks down barriers; breathwork is WORK. I lie back down, close my eyes, and try to resume my practice. Relax the body; quiet the mind; notice my breath.
My son wanders in, lies down next to me and curls up close, snuggling my arm. As I open my eyes, his head lifts and he smiles down at me. “I guess this is cuddle work,” he says, and then lays back down.
Ah, yes – cuddle work. I think I’ll pursue my Ph.D.
Ah, yes – cuddle work. I think I’ll pursue my Ph.D.
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