Every Thursday, we hope that you enjoy “The Joy Factory: Insights on Joyful Parenting (Among Other Things)” by Ruthie Yarme. More about Ruthie below.
Change is in the air. On our street, we see the slightest twinge of orange and red in the trees. The morning fog is gone and sunny days are back (summer in Santa Cruz means fleece and wool hats; fall in Santa Cruz means tank tops and flip-flops. Go figure!).
Today, Andre started “real” kindergarten (we are now a hybrid homeschooling family!). And next week, the whirlwind of activities that is our life begins (dance, soccer, dance, swimming, soccer, swimming).
Lately, I have felt the movement from our slow and easy summer flow to a more outward and faster-pasted rhythm. Guess what? I have the tendency to lose my center more easily the more quickly I move. Even the anticipation of this faster pace had me slightly off-balance.
From the outside, you might have missed the signs, but I felt them inside. My monkey-mind was going bonkers. It wasn’t just the lists of things-to-do that made their hourly calling. I found myself telling more and more stories that didn’t feel good. Stories of how my life wasn’t working; stories dreading the busyness of the school year.
Stacey has written beautifully lately about finding the gift in our dissonant feelings (here and in her latest e-zine article). Inspired by her e-zine article “How to Reveal the Gift of the Undesirable”, I decided to see if the storytellers who seemed to have taken over my thinking apparatus had a gift for me.
As Stacey recommended, I allowed those storytellers to be heard. As they spread fear and worry about how busy things are going to be, as they sowed seeds of anger at my helplessness to slow things down, I listened to them without judgment.
I thanked them for their part in my personal growth. Then, I asked my deeper, wiser self, “What are these stories trying to show me? What is their gift?”
Not to disparage these kind, helpful storytellers who were really just pointing the way to me, but their gift was found in part due to the obnoxiousness of their incessant talking. They were so darned irritating, like a thorn hidden deep within, that I had no choice but to look for the source of the pain.
To stop their constant prattle, I found it. Listening deeply to myself, I knew that the pain came from being overwhelmed and increasingly disconnected (to myself, to nature, to my kids, to my husband, to my source). If I didn’t pay attention to those storytellers, they would take me on a stint to “Way-Out-of-Balance” Land. I’d been there before and really didn’t want to return right now.
“How do I want to live my life?”…and “How do I get there?” became the questions inspired by my garrulous storytellers. Apparently still in touch with my deeper self, I had a sudden inspiration. I took out a huge piece of paper and wrote (with great flourish) “WHAT BRINGS US JOY!” I told the kids that I was going to fill it up with the things that bring me joy and that they were invited to join me if they wanted to do so.
I quickly jotted down several of my own joys, “Drawing. Laughing. Nature. Creating Together. Playing Together.” Isabella sat by my side. I asked her if she could read what I had written (first because I had written it in a more adult hand; and second because “nature” and “laughing” are simply tricky to read).
She struggled to read “nature”, so I started to draw a tree (not even making the connection that I had written “drawing” first on my list). As I drew, she gleefully shouted, “NATURE!”
Then I tried to draw “Laughing” and failed miserably. Some faces were shouting, some just looked weird. I finally just told her what the word was and continued to try to make something resembling a person laughing.
Sure enough, laughter ensued. Face after face after face that looked nothing like laughing had us in stitches. Isabella finally had a go and nailed it on her first try… which made us laugh even harder.
From there, we decided to draw some pictures of nature and filled a page with flowers and bugs and birds and sunlight. I looked on the floor near our feet as Andre contentedly made suns out of Tinker-Toys.
After about an hour of drawing (nature and laughing) and doing some laughing of our own and creating together, Andre looked up and asked, “Mommy, can we play a game?” It seemed the perfect time to put aside what we were doing and connect with all three of us.
I looked at the words I had written, those things that bring me joy (now almost hidden among the countless drawings) and realized that we touched upon every word in the course of an hour or so. And after that hour, I find myself, once again, filled with joy, connected and balanced. I even feel prepared and excited for the changes that I feel in the air. Thank you, storytellers. Without you, I may not have found myself here. You did good!
Note from Ruthie: I am plotting and planning more ways to help myself and others find balance and peace whenever our negative storytellers start their tirades. I hope to share many of them at our October retreat. Come join us! There is only one spot left.
Ruthie Yarme is a homeschooling mom, living in Santa Cruz, CA. She delights in walking among the towering Redwoods; watching her dog, Ginger, romp along the Pacific; listening to her husband play music of all styles; and pretty much doing anything with her two amazing gurus, Isabella and Andre.
You can find Ruthie’s essays here every Thursday. She would love to hear your thoughts on parenting, partnering and joyful living. Feel free to contact her at yarme@mac.com
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