Spiritual Lessons from a Teething Child

Me and my daughter. 

Teething is a painful process and very uncomfortable.  My daughter's ear piercing screams make my heart wrench as I try to soothe her as her new bottom teeth are coming in.  While spiritual growth is not exactly like getting your first baby tooth, it can also be a very painful and down right uncomfortable process.

In my 20s, I had a mistaken belief that a spiritual awakening or some sort of "aha" moment, which Zen describes of kensho would somehow make my life more easy.  I confused spiritual growth as somehow comfort and ease.  Don't get me wrong, sometimes spiritual experiences are very pleasant in that they provide a sense of clarity.

In my early 30s, I was given a moment of clarity, where I saw for the first time that the way I was living my life was not working.  I could no longer blame everyone else for my misery, and maybe just maybe I was willing to try another way before I tried killing myself yet again.  It seems funny now to me looking back at how delusional I was thinking I was somehow in control, and I could figure my life out.  I had tried many spiritual paths at this point from Anarchist philosophy, Stoicism, Buddhism, Taoism, and different strains of Christianity like Methodism and Catholicism.

I moved to a L'Arche community in DC also hoping that somehow coming to a spiritual community would fix me.  The reality was I did not want to truly let control, and my mind started seeing all the ways in which my L'Arche community was the problem and not really helping me.  I once again fell into a common pattern of mine, blaming others for the dissatisfaction, restlessness, and internal discomfort I felt.  I was spiritually sick and I did not even know it, until I finally came to the jumping off place.  At this point, I was praying everyday for a God of my understanding to kill me in my sleep.  Why do the dirty work if someone else will do it for you?  It upset me each morning that God was not merciful and took me in my sleep, but I had to face life which felt like a chore...a living hell.

I am like a baby in that I thought the world revolved around me.  A 31 year old man behaving like a helpless baby leaves one angry entitled human being.  Luck for me, I was given a gift of desperation...hitting a spiritual bottom.  In a moment of clarity I became aware that the common denominator in all my misery no matter where I went was me.  I had to change or get busy dying, because I did not want to continue living this way.

No one, not even a loving community could make me surrender, nor could they then do the work of inner change.  I opened myself to a God that I did not really believe, because this God of my childhood, God I studied in seminary was a God of my own making...ultimately I still ran the show.  My way did not work and luckily enough I was able to reach out for help and be desperate enough not to control who or what that form of help came.

I experienced a state of admitting I was powerless and being open to another way, which meant admitting my way, my thinking, and the way I was living was not thinking.  I was my worst enemy.  I am not sure if babies think these thoughts as they experience pain and suffering, maybe they just cry because they hurt.  My daughter goes from extreme distress to belly laughs, and I truly envy how she is so much in the moment.  She is powerless over the pain and discomfort of teething, but it is my hope that she trusts that she has loving parents that are looking out for her and walking with her through the process.  I sometimes forget that I have a loving Power in my life that walks with me through the pains and joys of life, and sometimes that Power reaches out to me through friends and sometimes strangers.  I truly believe and have experienced how we can be channels of God's peace, especially in moments we are honest and vulnerable.

Teething like spiritual growth can be very tiring, and sometimes we need a nice long nap cuddled up to someone we love.

getting Winnie to nap: lessons in humility

I've faced many challenges in my life: depression, paying taxes, getting beyond suicidal iterations, finding a job, and etc.  But none of them compare to getting a little baby to nap on her bed.  :)

Winnie loves to nap on my chest, but based on the wisdom of all the parents before me and especially at the suggestion of my lovely wife, I am trying to be consistent about teaching her how to nap in her own bed.  The problem arises a few minutes after I lay her down, and she abruptly wakes up either smiling and laughing or screaming and wailing. 

What does this have to do with spirituality?  There's nothing like a lesson in humility and a call to practice love and tolerance like the presence of a young infant.  I am learning a lesson that my life in community keeps teaching me, which is that I cannot control other people.  However, I can try to be centered and stable inside, so I can show up on a consistent basis. 

The other day, my daughter and I napped in our bed for a whole freaking hour.  It was amazing, and especially needed because she had woken up around 3:30 that morning.  I am learning that we are called to love and practice love, even when we are sleep deprived and tired, and I feel like I have nothing to give.

I never thought I was a rigid person, but I've realized as this lovely new person is constantly changing my routine that I have doggedly become a creature of habit.  I want things to happen when I want them to, even when I have a roughly fluid schedule.  I am working on this with my wife practicing love and tolerance with me.  I don't always see how selfish I am being.  I'll offer up a story to illustrate.  Few months after Winnie was born, we planned to visit our friends in DC.  I had organized a lunch with friends and also set up a place for us to stay, and sort of roughly mapped out what we'd do that weekend.  The night before we were going on the trip, Winnie was not feeling well and I was also starting to feel slightly not so well.  I sort of threw a tantrum when my wife Jocelyn told me we probably should not go tomorrow.

I was really upset and could not get past the plans I had made.  My plans became more important than the people right in front of me, and even my own body telling me to rest.  The morning came and my daughter was snottier and I was worse, and I finally had the sense to realize that my wife was wise and spoke the truth.  It is so humbling to admit that you are wrong, and then the hard part is trying to change and not repeat the same mistake.

Winnie's naps similar to the story I shared, is another experience of me not being able to control the situation or a person.  Little babies have good days and bad, and my job is to show up with an open heart.   Laugh when my daughter wakes up smiling and laughing, and soothe her when she wakes up crying.  Back to this great experiment called parenting...   :) 

   

prayer and meditation

I have been practicing some form of meditation since 1999, my first year as an undergraduate at UNC-Chapel Hill.  I read a book on Taoist meditation techniques and started sitting.  I then I about Zen and started sitting zazen.  My meditation practice was off and on until 2008, when I entered a Methodist seminary in Durham, NC.  I began to be interested in contemplative practices within the Christian church and sought out a mentor for Centering Prayer and started a centering prayer group along with new friends at seminary.  I would say that my love for contemplatives started initially when I discovered Taoist sages, Zen monks, Hindu ascetics, and later early Church Fathers and Mothers. 

I was drawn to the writings of Thomas Merton and encountered Trappist Monks when I was in seminary during a spiritual retreat.  I used to visit Mepkin Abbey (http://mepkinabbey.org/wordpress/) on a more regular basis, and spent a month there as a Monastic Guest while in seminary.  My last year in seminary, I became Catholic.  I tell people that I came into the Catholic Church through the back door, being pulled by the contemplatives of the monastic tradition.

Currently, I am a member of the Religious Society of Friends.  In the eyes of the Catholic Church, I remain Catholic, and only a confession away to be an upstanding member.   

My prayer life consists of daily starting my day with intercessory prayer and silence.  I have set prayers I have memorized, and I go through them to open my heart and mind to the will of a God of my understanding.  I prefer the Quaker term of Divine Presence.  I then sit in silence about 20 minutes, and sometimes invoking the sacred word as taught by Fr. Keating in practicing centering prayer if I get distracted.  I intersperse my prayer life with zazen, more specifically a sitting practice called shikantaza, which roughly translates to just sitting.  I became more disciplined in my sitting while I was in seminary, and often sat with the Buddhist student group.

As a father of a 4 months old daughter, I've had to be little more flexible with my prayer life and meditation practice.  When I awake in the morning, I am often waking up to my daughter getting up to start her day.  I usually change her diaper, read to her, play with her and sing to her about an hour before she takes her first nap of the day.  I pray and meditate while holding her.  I am sitting on a couch rather than on a meditation cushion.  My sitting on a zafu has been irregular, but I still try to just sit when I hold my daughter on my couch.

My night time prayer has been also more fluid and flexible.  I rarely sit on the cushion, but I try to pray and do some deep breathing as I lay in our bed.  I try to open myself to my body sensations, to my own breath and the breathing of my daughter and wife. 

I will try to return to a more disciplined meditation practice, especially with the sitting posture on the zafu once my daughter sleeps through the night [keep your figures crossed :)].     

Spiritual practices for stay at home parents

I used to have a pretty structure practice of prayer and meditation, i would start my day with prayer and sit in silence on a meditation cushion for 20 minutes to start the day.  I would then do a similar practice in the evening.

When my daughter Winnie was born almost over 3 months a go, I had to learn to pray more fluidly and less on a rigid schedule.  I still try to make time for silence and prayer, and of course we can pray through out the day, but I am talking about the intentional time one takes to make an effort to be quiet and open the heart to God or something greater than ourselves.

I have since college incorporated a meditation practice into my life, which became more on a regular for the past 3 years.  A really helpful practice is walking meditation, which I try to do when I go on walks with my daughter in a carrier.  She is happily passed out on my past.  I focus on my breath, my steps, the warmth of my daughter's body next to mine, and sort of open up.  It helps to start with my own breath, body sensations, before I open up to everything else.  I find this practice grounding, and it helps me to be more centered and grounded as I am being present to my daughter.

If you are Christian, repeating the Jesus Prayer as you walk is really helpful, "Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me."  It is a simple prayer that's been part of the early Church and still practiced by members of the Eastern Orthodox Church and other traditions.  There's many variations of this prayer, but whichever one you choose, you can incorporate it with your breath.

When I was a practicing Catholic, I used to pray the rosary on my walks and that was really helpful.

I find the practice of tuning into my breath and body really beneficial, whether you are of any particular faith or not.

I also find the time I am feeding my daughter to be a very special and intimate time.  I give a prayer of thanks and love, sometimes silently and sometimes by just speaking out loud "Thank You, I Love You."  My daughter seems to always enjoy it.  You can also do breath and body scan exercises as you feed your child, if you are interested in more the meditative practices. 

little moments

"silence of night"

breaths slow

bodies rest

a hushed

silence 

falls

upon

the

world

(Poem I wrote on: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1064653/silence-of-night/)

It's been almost 3 weeks of being a stay at home dad, and I'll have to say that it's the best "job" I've ever had.  Also, I've enjoyed spending days with my wife and daughter, on the week days where she does not have to work; when we were both working, it was difficult to just enjoy the day at a relaxed pace.

I have no deep spiritual reflections to impart or deep wisdom today.  ;). I was more musing about the little moments of silence that inhabit my day.  I am not talking about the silence that comes out of a hurtful word or a deadening silence, but the type of silence that's full of wonder, peace, and leaves you feeling more connected to yourself and the world.

Maybe it's because my days are spent in motion--singing, feeding, playing and walking--that I notice little glimpses of silence.  Sometimes it's an inner silence that comes from deep joy like a surprising moment when my daughter started to really belly laugh for the first time in my company.  The little moments on our walk where I notice the birds singing and move to a music only they can hear as they hop on the ground looking for food.

I live in the city, so actual silence is quite relative.  I hear the hum of tires on pavement outside our window as I put my daughter asleep.  But the hum becomes harmony to the beautiful melody of her quiet little breaths.  As I listen, I become more in touch with my own breath and the beating of my heart.

Some days I am less in tune with the little moments of silence that connects, and it seems I am going from thing to thing in a general state of panic.  Every parent knows the guy wrenching sound of their child crying, I mean really crying, after you've taken care of all their needs.  I feel totally helpless at that moment, but my own experience has thought me if I keep being there with love and calm, my daughter relaxes into my chest.  

I feel sometimes like I am a baby throwing a tantrum, because I wonna.  I push away from a loving parent, but when I relax I can rest in the warmth of a loving Divine Presence and listen to the heart beats of life.  It is strange that when I am in tune with interior silence, the noise of the world seems like less chaotic junk, but a strange music.

I am writing this entry as my daughter gently sleeps on my chest on a Tuesday morning.  Our cat Hermione is cozier up on top of my legs and I can feel her warmth.  I hear my daughter's breathin and I can feel the weight of her gently caressing me.  I am grateful for today and for the gift of being able to receive the day with all its wonder and silence.

Vocation

( 1st half originally written in June 26, 2011)

The word vocation comes from the Latin verb vocare, which means to call.  The term vocation was mainly used by Christians to refer to God's call on an individual, or to a community of people; vocation is now used more in the secular sense to refer to one's occupation.

This past weekend, I shared with a group of Duke undergrads, who are living in community for the summer, my journey into L'Arche and how it helped me to figure out God's call upon my life.  I tried to convey to the students that I see my vocation as a call or an invitation to a certain way of life, or a way of being.  

When I initially lived at L'Arche Daybreak for 10 weeks two summers ago, I knew that I was not done with L'Arche.  That summer at Dybreak helped me let go of false identities and false images of God, and helped me be more open to my brothers and sisters with intellectual disabilities, and those who are defined by our culture as "non-normative."  I also encountered the God of mystery, one that I did not know, and God that was beyond my human understanding. 

I have been at L'Arche DC for three weeks now.  I am still trying to be open to how the Holy Spirit is working in my life and trying to open my heart-mind bit by bit.  My mind initially resisted community life here by comparing L'Arche DC to Daybreak.  I realize now that I have to hold my experiences in Canada gently, so I do not idealize them to the point that they become a hindrance to living out my life here and now at a different L'Arche community.

I would like to close with a quote from Jean Vanier's Community and Growth:

To grow in love is to try each day to welcome, and to be attentive and caring for those whom we have the greatest difficulty; with our 'enemies'; those who are the poorest, the oldest, the weakest, the most demanding, the most ailing; those who are the most marginal in our community, who have the most difficulty conforming to the rules; and finally those who are the youngest.
  

If people are faithful to these four priorities of love then the community as a whole will be an oasis of love.  

---------------------

(2nd half written January 8, 2015)

It has been over three and a half years since I wrote the first half of this blog about vocation, and since then I have been doing a whole lot of growing.  I struggle to grow in love, as Jean Vanier defines it, which is to "welcome, and to be attentive and caring to those whom we have the greatest difficulty."  

I have experience with this sort of growth not just with people, but life transitions that redefine or sometimes sheds old identifications.  

I had to adjust my perspective of individuality, when I took vows of marriage in October 26, 2013.  I had to let go of my selfish ways, and realized that my choices and decisions now effect someone else in a very direct way; I had to learn how to share my life and talk through decisions that affected my wife.  

Few months ago, on November 11, 2014, my daughter was born.  The greatest difficulty I have sometimes is realizing that the world doesn't revolve around me, and there is no better teacher in the world than a new born to get you out of your selfishness.  My daughter becomes center stage, and not my own selfish needs and thoughts.  Of course, I say all this with a grain of sand, I need to take care of myself emotionally, spiritually, and physically so I can show up fully for myself and my family.  I am not good to my daughter or my wife, when I am full of fear, resentments, and cranky because I have not eaten all day or taken care of my other needs.  All in all, I am learning to be responsible.  

What does this have to do have to do with vocation?  As I wrote before, the word vocation comes from the Latin verb vocare, which means to call.  God has called me to be a husband, and now a father to my daughter.  I am working on vocation as a profession as well, and hope to eventually follow my calling by exploring hospice chaplaincy.  But for now, I am called to be a stay at home dad and care for my daughter, my wife, and my home.  

I hope to also be a good member of the Religious Society of Friends, more commonly known as Quakers, and "let my life speak" as Quakers say.

A lot of my own vocation has to do with little moments, where I show up to myself and others without any expectations for pay or anything back in return.  I give of myself freely and without expectations, and in that moment I have truly fulfilled my calling.       

Gratitude

True spiritual gratitude embraces all of our past, the good as well as the bad events, the joyful as well as the sorrowful moments. From the place where we stand, everything that took place brought us to this place, and we want to remember all of it as part of God's guidance. That does not mean that all that happened in the past was good, but it does mean that even the bad didn't happen outside the loving presence of God.

It is very hard to keep bringing all of our past under the light of gratitude. There are so many things about which we feel guilt and shame, so many things we simply wish has never happened. But each time we have the courage to look at "the all of it" and to look at it as God looks at it, our guilt becomes a happy guilt and our shame a happy shame because they have brought us to a deeper recondition of God's mercy, a stronger conviction of God's guidance, and a more radical commitment to a life in God's service.

Once all of our past is remembered in gratitude, we are free to be sent into the world to proclaim good news to others. ---Henri Nouwen, Here and Now

Ever since I can remember, I felt things too deeply.  My feelings and thoughts were so overwhelming, and constantly playing in my head and steadily getting louder and louder.  In high school, friends of mine invited me to a party and I had my first taste of beer.  I hated the taste of cheap beer, but a funny thing happened; I loved how alcohol made me feel, so I ended up drinking way too much that night, and threw up in the bathroom.  I mentally promised myself I would never drink this much again, but the next chance I got, I drank too much.  I realize now, I loved the feeling being drunk made me, it gave me a sense of ease and comfortable, and gave me relief from my intense feelings and thoughts.  As I grew older, I unknowingly fell into a pattern of pursuing external things to quiet my internal condition, whether it be a new job, a new location, or a new relationship.  

I thought I was making choices, but in reality I was chasing after the illusion of serenity and peace I found that night at the party.  Alcohol used to be called spirit, and I think there is something to that notion of being drunk on a substance and overcome or "drunk" through a spiritual experience. 

 

I chased false spirits and temporary spiritual experiences to escape my past.  In my college years, I often mediated to check out or bliss out, and idealized a mental/spiritual state, where everything would become easy.  

When I came to L'Arche GWDC in June 2011, on the surface it looked like I had everything together.  I had just graduated from a prestigious seminary and had a Masters of Divinity.  I was now a spiritual expert and far more than just an ordinary assistant.  However, on the inside I was falling apart.  I had not accepted the past, could not really live in the present, and the future looked like a burden to be endured.  

I was so critical of everything and everyone, even the very community that was providing a safe space for me to fall apart.  If you told me then that I would be grateful for the experience of unravelling at the seams and be slowly put together with a help of a community and a loving God, I would have told you to go "f*#k" yourself.  I was so bitter.  Somehow my life was not what it should be, and no one saw my potential.  Something was wrong, and it must be because I was a victim of life , my parents, friends, and even my L'Arche community were against me.  I could not distinguish from the truth and the false.  

Lucky for me, I hit a bottom, where I asked another person for help, which was an outer sign of an inner surrender to a power greater than me. I was in so much internal and some physical pain that I wa willing to try something else.  During this time, a spiritual friend told me to start writing 6 things I was grateful for everyday and text it to him.  Needless to say, I found it impossible to be grateful for anything, because everything pretty much sucked. But gradually I found things in my life that I as grateful for, even the unpleasant and sad feelings, because it meant I was living a life.  I have continued this practice for over three years and it's helped me tremendously live in a state of gratitude that Henri Nouwen described.  Somedays I fall short, but I make an attempt to move towards acceptance, and thus towards gratitude.

Little by little I am becoming a little more free, where the past no longer holds be back from the past.  I no longer live in the future to escape the here and now.  With God's help I can use all of my experiences to help others.

Today, I am grateful I was able to spend the day with my daughter and my brother, and I was able to communicate through a miscommunication with my wife. A few years ago I could not fathom having a real relationship with my brother, because I was so checked out and absent in the lives of the people who loved me.  I also was uable to talk through my feelings with another human being, and today I am able to talk and be vulnerable with another person without totally shutting down.  These are small tangible signs of saying yes to what Fr. Henri called "radical commitment to a life in God's service."  I have learned that commitment is not a grand ideal or gestures, but saying yes to tiny little moments that draw us towards true connection.  Real connections can be frightening, because it means we allow others to truly see us as we are.  I know I still struggle with believing that I am deserving of love, but when I connect to a loving God, my heart is able to welcome everything as a free gift with deep gratitude.