Life as a mom and a shaman and a business owner can be a whirlwind. Where do the days go? Not to mention the years? How did I get to be a mom, let alone a mom with a child who’s old enough for sleepovers? How much have I evolved, and how much do I still knot myself up? What direction to go in my business… And how can I create an authentic, fulfilling life in the midst of busy days?
Through stillness and reflection.
Today, Shaman Boy turns 6. Happy Birthday, my cub.
Growing up, I never thought I wanted to be married or have children. I was raised on Free to Be You & Me, where girls could be anything. My attention was directed towards being the President or a CEO, not a mama or housewife. I achieved a modicum of worldly success before my life fell apart and through heartbreak and questioning my identity, I landed in the world of shamanism. My life has been a wild ride since then – marrying my husband two weeks after our first date on top of the pyramids of Mexico and conceiving our son at a shamanic center in Ireland, two weeks after hearing the internal call to have a child on a return visit to the same pyramids. And also deeply questioning what kind of life I want to live beyond what I was raised to believe. One that involves marriage, and children, and a business, and deep self-care.
So much growth and transformation – for me personally, with my adored husband and child.
As a light worker and spiritual being, time spent connecting to source and to my inner world is a non-negiotable. Which is why I value making some space to sit and reflect on all the transformation in my life and to capture precious moments. Starting when Shaman Boy was born, I wrote a note to him each month, then each year (then whoops missed a year or two), then picked up the tradition again, expressing my love and appreciation for him and doing my best to describe his essence and interests.
Through all my inner work, I’ve often wondered what I was like and interested in as a child when our authentic selves are often much more present and less hidden under layers of domestication. So I see taking this time to reflect not only grounds and nourishes me, giving me greater appreciation for my life, but it will also be a precious gift to Shaman Boy when he’s a man.
What about you? When do you stop and reflect? Do tell.
Here I am telling it to my Shaman Boy.
May 10, 2013
Dear Shaman Boy,
In the last few months, you’ve hovered between crawling into bed for a cuddle in the mornings with your soft blankie (which you haven’t done in years) and bounded out of bed, down the stairs to spend time with Pawsie and to walk the dogs. You and I have a such a sweet relationship. You still insist that I’m the one to tuck you in at night and snuggle until you fall asleep, and yet you are gravitating more and more to Papa. Jumping into his lap after dinner, hanging out in the woods or the garage, streaking off down the driveway with him in the Ural, off for a bagel at Frontside or for some boy time.
I treasure each of these moments – when you slip your hand into mine as we walk down the street (which you resisted adamantly as a toddler), having our chats when we walk up the hill to school or after we read three bedtime books. You could go on and on about your inventions and the businesses you plan to run. You are quite the entrepreneur – trying to sell us dirt from the backyard to fill in holes in the front, wanting to print business cards for your rigging business, explaining how you will market your creations from the recycled cheese wax on a website and at school. Thank you for still wanting to spend time with your Mimi.
Some things haven’t changed at all. You are still a digger, a bo-dozer. Our entire back yard is a construction site. You and your best bud J have dug some serious pits underneath the swing set and you’re now installing a pipeline through the yard.
You’ve turned into quite the nature boy. After seeing the bear cross East Branch River and clamor up and over the Tikki Lounge at Greg’s house, where you excitedly chased after it to the horror of the adults around, you are no longer afraid of bears and play happily outside in New Hampshire. You’ve trekked to Tuckerman’s Ravine on Mt. Washington, a good six hour hike, and scamper up your climbing wall gleefully. Of course, you’d rather swing back and forth for hours in front of it, but you do love to climb and explore. You can’t wait to plant a veggie garden.
At school, you’ve finally mastered pincher grip after loud protests over giving up hammer grip (aspiring carpenter that you are). You’re writing and reading, which is such a joy to watch. You’ve been working on a book about wolves that you want to publish and sell, putting flyers around town. You’re spouting off phrases that Madame has taught you in French and you giggle whenever I speak Spanish. And wow do you love math. Since downloading the Bedtime Math App, you’re more motivated to get in bed to solve the problems. It’s amazing to watch you figure out patterns and multiplication and even make up math word problems on your own (involving dump trucks, natch.)
You love your Donna Days. Skyping with Granny and Baba, Nick and Erin, Mark and Rose. You’ve all but stopped building with Legos while Nick and Erin are in Italy since Master Builder Nick isn’t here to play with you. You and Juno pup have seriously bonded. The two of you wrestle and tumble over each other. You come home from Acorn Gallery covered in paint from head to toe. You’ve started guitar lessons with Eric. Country music, techno, and Kids Place Live are your favorite forms of music, which you dance to with wild abandon. You can’t get enough of Mythbusters or How It’s Made, but you also still watch the Backyardigans. No movies with drama for you. You’ve spent the last month planning your rigging birthday party in detail, as you do with every holiday.
Your circle of friends has grown. There’s still J, who is number one. And P, who you had for your first sleepover. But now there’s also H and N from school. S and L next door.
You are curious, sweet, willful, super smart, observant, creative, always thinking (and talking). You rarely stop moving, especially when describing what you’ve created in your mind. You are a little slow to warm up to new people, but have started looking at people in the eye and even shaking their hands, which just slays me.
I celebrate who you are and who you are becoming. Thank you for being a part of my life. Your Pawsie and I adore you.
Love and mushers,