I don't believe in miracles - I rely on them

I don't believe in miracles - I rely on them

Yogi Bhajan


You found my blog and as I am experimenting with the weird and wonderful world of cyber publishing, let me explain what
a gunna is: it's a word for all things desirable, something that makes us happy and warm and comforts us when we feel tired or sad or lonely. a gunna is the best gadget in the world! it was leah s first word for all things she wanted. Or you might also know it as: dummy, schnulli, pacifier binky, schnuller...... and so on. So this is for my beautiful


Thursday, August 18, 2011

Happiness runs in circular motion - life is like a little boat upon the sea

Happiness runs in a circular motion
Life is like a little boat upon the sea
Everything is part of everything anyway,
and you can have it all
if you let yourself be

This is a sweet little yoga meditation that I learned years ago on a Kundalini retreat. It has a childlike magic to it, that automatically lifts my spirit, whenever I sing it  to you or just think about it.

Since my last post was all about Leah and how I came to love her, this one is for you Kala, my strong and beautiful child, my little goddess of destruction, and about your special magic.

Kala -

I can't say I chose that name, because, what really happened:  it came along with you. You chose it like you chose me as your mother and us as your family at the precise moment you were ready to start your life with us.

The name I had in mind for you,  before I knew you, was Lili.

Somehow I must have expected a Lili, a delicate little fairy flower, angelic and almost insubstantial.

A picture that self destructed the moment you came from Joanie's arms into mine.
I can still see your sparkly eyes calmly focusing on me with a subtle confidence and self assurance that I have rarely seen in people other than yogis (or my therapist :-)).

It was  right there in our first eye contact, the undeniable presence of  your spirit and your personality. Holding you that first time was like sitting on a rock surrounded by a living ocean. Everything about you was alive and moving with a natural energy that was still deeply connected to an all-knowing wisdom.
With your eyes you were simply saying. I am. Here.
And look at me:  A Lili I am not!

And since I was not listening, you convinced your Papa first.

For the first couple of days - possibly to reinstate my old  illusion that life can be controlled -  I desperately tried to hold on to my belief that since I had actually called you into my life as "Lili" and that you had come because of and out of the power of my manifestation,  I "owed" it to you to hang on to that name.

Girl  was I wrong.

Eventually I gave in to Alan's pleadings and we chose a new name for you. It was the first name that spoke to us and once we saw it, there was no doubt in our minds. Without knowing what it meant, it was more a realisation (and Alan realised more than I did at the time) than a decision: you are Kala.
As I struggled to come to terms with  giving up control - yet again - and allowing the wiser part of me to connect with the wisdom in you -  my ego crumbled and shattered into a million pieces together with all my expectations and preconceptions. True to your name, you unleashed this destruction of all that was old and ego centered in my life.

Together with an entirely unexpected physical breakdown I was overcome by a not entirely unexpected emotional earthquake leaving me unable to move and consumed with Guilt and and her little sister: Regret.

What had I done? How could I have thought I was cut out to be your mother? And at the same time, what was I doing to your sister, who had been the center of my universe for the last 30 months and still needed me so much and was  too small to understand that this little stranger taking her place, was her new sister and part of our family.

And above all, I felt guilty for not loving you enough, without realising that I have been there before, and that love can't reveal itself if my heart is filled with fear and my mind blocked by expectations.

During all this time - I think it was almost a week of me being unable to move with dizziness and nausea - you were the one who stayed calm and centered and reminded me, whenever I stuck my nose out from under my duvet, that no matter how long it would take me to come out of my self induced drama and join you on the adventure that would be our life together, you'd be there, waiting for me to catch up.

You became my teacher then, a 3 months old baby, teaching  me about trust and - once again - love. Looking back at our first few days together, I still feel some regret that I  was not fully present, conscious and aware of the magic that brought  you to us  and the magic that is you.

Instead it seemed necessary that I took this journey into the deep dark corners of my subconscious, before I was able to join you  and your papa and your sister on the other side where you all just got on beautifully with being a family.

(I think it is clear by now: I just don't do change very well or at  the very least gracefully - I turn into a mixture of squealing drama queen and post traumatic stress victim, barely able to speak coherent words or look beyond these first moments of upheaval that are the inroads into my new life )

Whenever I think of this time now, I have one picture in my mind: You, sitting like a little Buddha in your Moses basket, outside on the veranda,  surrounded by friends and family, all the new people in your life, who are coming to look at you or touch you or talk to you. I stand a couple of meters away,  ready to jump in if it gets too much, but you just sit there, calmly observing. You don't smile or engage with anybody just because they are there. Instead you seem to think about it carefully first and then decide whether to  make the required effort to connect with this person in front of you, or rather stay in meditative rest. When you do decide to smile or otherwise acknowledge somebody, they feel really honored, because, more often than not, you choose to just quietly contemplate people instead of engaging with them.

Somehow you have never lost that connection to your wise and ageless soul, who simply knows who she is.
You are the one person in my life, who is entirely and uncompromisingly true to herself. I look at you with amazement and an immense sense of gratitude. You were my teacher at three months old, you still continue to teach me every day. With Leah I learned I could be a mother, you remind me everyday to be the best mother I can be.

Sometimes I find the miracle of us all  together hard to believe but as I have been living with it since you came to us, it becomes more real every day - without ever being normal and for that I am deeply grateful.

Today, three years later, whenever I look into your sparkly eyes and see the glimmer of determined mischief or abundant happiness or pure anger or whatever emotion  is consuming you at the time, my heart does one big leap with my love for you and the perfection that is you in my life.


Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The random moments when love happens

I often remember the moment , when I first held you in my arms:

my heart beating a thousand beats a minute, my mind spinning with the many new emotions of this one moment, which would change my life forever;

in that first second, when I tried to take you in all at once, searching your tiny, sleeping face for something familiar, that would spark off the firework of  love that I had anticipated so many times in the days and weeks waiting for your arrival,in that split second  I realised, everything was different from what I had thought it would be.

And as I was forced  to drop all my expectations, judgements and assumptions, I started to understand that my love for you - like any force of nature -  would make it's appearance on it's own terms. I could not build or model it on any previous experience and literally had to start from scratch together with you.

The wiser part of me  knew without a doubt that it was there and as much a part of me as my breath and my heartbeat - but sitting on that sofa with a whole new life in my arms, not feeling what I had expected to feel, I simply panicked.

The panic did not leave me over the next few days. It got company instead:  A strange sadness took hold of me,  something primal with no words and no pictures to describe or explain it, just waves and waves of feeling washing over me. Feelings of fear and separation coming from a place and a time, when I had no speech and no understanding.

I don't know who cried more during these first  days we had  together, you or I!  In the few moments between holding you, feeding you, bathing you and trying to put you to sleep, I walked around in previously familiar rooms like a survivor of my own personal tsunami, feeling disoriented, sifting through the debris trying to identify familiar pieces of myself.

Then, slowly and almost unnoticeable at first, like a sunrise on a misty winter day, everything changed again, and  the first beams of  love reached me, totally new and unexpected!  I knew then that I could do this, I could begin my journey as your mother, stepping into the unknown and simply trust what you in your wisdom had known all along: that we were both exactly where we were meant to be.

Of course, being my own life long prophet of doom, I managed to slip back a couple of times, and there were - and sometimes still are -  moments of deep insecurity when I feel, I am not the mother you deserve.

But mostly  I stopped expecting of myself to be and feel a certain way and - for the first time since I can remember - I allowed my feelings to reveal themselves to me, instead of trying to anticipate or control them.

Since then, there is a moment in every day, when I think of you or look at you and my whole being simply dissolves into love. It is the most basic and joyful experience of my life - and I don't have to do anything in order to earn or deserve it.

What you taught me is that simple: Love can't be planned or controlled or willed into existence or even anticipated. It just is. And it is in all those random moments that make our life  together. It is there,  in the perfect curve of your mouth smiling, in  the shadow your eyelashes trace on your cheeks, when you are asleep. It spills over in your giggles from the back of my car, when you sing silly songs with your sister and it lives in the corner of your room, where you set up a picnic for your dolls this morning. It is new everyday and it teaches me to be curious again.

So from the deepest, wisest part of me, where all that love patiently waited for me to catch up, I thank you for being my child today and teaching me every day how to simply be.
Your Mother