The time has come for me to really learn to meditate.
Attempts have been made in the past to deepen this practice of stillness, but the effort has always been made in vain, without the full devotion of my heart.
That is no longer the case. Now, it has become my most fervent wish to cultivate authentic tranquility through discipline. More than a wish, an essential mission.
For over a decade, as a Waldorf teacher, meditation has been a crucial element of my prep work. These meditations are directed toward my students and my lessons and have become like second nature to me, a space I can reliably access for support in the classroom. Yet, I have repeatedly neglected to direct this same kind of mindful attention to the lessons I am imparting to my most vulnerable students, my children.
In my sincere endeavor to be a wise and patient teacher, to my children I have been a fragile and exhausted mama often teetering on the verge of (another) breakdown. The very worst version of myself is what I have displayed to them, time and time again.
The horrific truth of this dynamic revealed itself with such raging fury that I have no choice but to surrender, accept what is being reflected back to me, and strive toward the light of redemption.
This will be an inner revolution, a private battle with my own worst enemy.
My journey begins with wholehearted supplication, preceded only by an intense offering of gratitude to my three precious gurus who have always had more patience for me than I have ever had for myself. My path is illumined by their brilliance, and every step guided by the penetrating wisdom of their love.
That is my greatest fortune.