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.



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