Separateness in togetherness - Additional musings

Musings on this 5th anniversary of mom's death...married couples have togetherness for a while, but one person will most likely live the final twilight years alone. Are we geared up for that emotionally? Is there separateness in togetherness or do we take spousal dependence as a must have, and give it pride of place?

Very recently, when my spouse took a two week solo vacation this month, I recognised his want of separateness and was very fine with it. I was however amazed at the many varied reactions from friends and family when he left... From genuine amazement -"why does he want to go solo on a vacation" , to scurrying insecurity - "what?!, I hope this doesn't  give my husband ideas", to bafflement -"what fun is a vacation alone", to reasoning -"is it on work also, then fine"or "is he going trekking, then fine", to righteous indignation on my behalf -"didn't you also want to see this place, how could he not take you also", to subtle sensing with both of us to check if we were still together :).  Innocent words when taken alone, but when coming multiple times from multiple people, threatened to swamp the lone individual, in this case, yours truly.

Till a point came, when the force of the outside voices threatened to overpower my inner conviction.  And resulted in some knee jerk responses. Till I figured out that these are voices of societal expectations of marriage dependence. And boy, did it take some work to dissociate myself from these outside voices.  

Now to all those voices which questioned my sanity to 'sanction or allow': Who am I to 'sanction' or allow'. Aren't we all adult individuals first and spouses second? Or is my identity immersed in spousal identity, or even parental identity? I've often wondered at this during conversations with women who express "we love each other so much that we cannot stay even one day without each other".  Also when women known to me perpetuate spousal dependence by depending on the spouse for any 'outside work', be it banking, driving etc. I've also wondered about this, when men known to me are emotionally dependent on loved ones to the extent that they need the regular daily/ hourly contact by phone or text, when away. I've also wondered at this (and I am guilty of this at times) when we as parents hover, when our children are way past hand holding. What happens to my identity when I 'let go'? Am I strong enough to let go?

To those voices which questioned if I was happy with 'not being taken': Do I miss seeing the sights? Yes I most definitely do. The pictures are dissociate from the experience and and cannot be related to. His experiences are his. Do I have an overpowering need to go see the place - No, I don't. If the opportunity presents itself, maybe yes. Yes, I certainly wish to go on a solo trip myself, not with a group. For the experience, if nothing else. I've done enough solo trips on work - and I love the experience, but a solo vacation - that's something on my wish list. But am I driven to it given that my spouse has? No absolutely not.

If there is any unhappiness at all, its just that I was not around at home the entire time to savour the solitude :) Missed that. Work kept me traveling too. And left our son alone to experience the solitude for 5 days. And sensing his need for experience and drive for independence, I kept all contact nil. Only to be pleasantly surprised on my return - to a spic and span house, all dishes washed, clothes washed and hung to dry, breakfast cooked and eaten, kitchen sparkling clean (mind you - to a mom's exacting standards). All completed courtesy a 'To do list' - up on his white board. I'll forever treasure that pic of the notations on that board. Not shared that with anyone other than the spouse, as it'll be an intrusion into the son's privacy. All he needed was parental independence.  And confidence of people he could turn to should there be any emergency.

Is our sense of self, 'independent of'  or 'immersed in' spousal/ parental identity? Is there separateness in togetherness? Did this experience enable that? Hopefully yes. Time will tell. There are two journeys we make alone - the journey of birth and death. The presence of others, adds to the experience and joy in between. Little did I know that the Bible too alludes to this in Galations 6:2-5.

The question is how much do we as a society enable such separateness? The 'letting go' to enable a person and ourselves just 'be'. And in letting go, prepare ourselves for our twilight years.

Hats off to my Dad who's managed this beautifully - in his aging twilight years. As parents, they always let us be. We daughters were never expected to call and inform when we've traveled and reached our destination. I think this lifelong habit of 'letting go', prepared him for these times. Mom, I'll be forever grateful for this wonderful lesson. You made our lives easier for this.

When the mind settles into itself

Last week, on an early morning flight, I struggled to find sleep. I closed my eyes, and what do I find? A cacophony of thoughts which refused to let me fly…to fly to the land of bliss. My mind knows that my body needs its rest before a full day’s work. I know the theory…close eyes…blank my mind…. but no, did not work. My thoughts and ideas were determined to have their dance. And through their dance, hold my mind hostage.

Hostage? Isn’t that too strong a word? Absolutely not. What else can I call it? When thoughts hold the mind in a tightening grip. Against its will? Surely not. Did I ever pause to listen to the mind? To allow the self to come to mind?

If I did, I would liken my mind to the incessant chatter of a monkey. After a point, I become unaware of little else. It becomes the norm.  The thoughts that flit through, the feelings and emotions. They become so much a part of me, that I tend to forget. To forget that I am not my thoughts. I am not my feelings. I am not my emotions. Silence of the mind was an alien concept to me, till a few years ago, till mindfulness came to play.

So, I settled into my flight. Closed my eyes and began the focus again…this time on the thoughts that held court in my mind. I allowed them to be. I shifted focus to my breath. In and out. So much a pattern. And noticed that they did not falter. They rose and fell like the tide of the ocean. Slowly and steadily. Rolling in and out gently. They rise, only to fall. And fall, before they rise. Unending. Always. Where would I be without my breath? That was a thought. And I found that thoughts still demanded entry into my mind. But this time, they flitted through. They gently floated through the rooms of my mind with the waves of my breath.

I noticed that when I shifted my awareness to my breath, my thoughts lost their stranglehold on me. I am no longer my thoughts. They are a small part of me, much like my breath, much like I am part of this whole universe. My emotions no longer feed me. I realise that I feed them, by dwelling too much on them. Letting go… like the waves of the ocean. Rising and falling. Experiencing them in the moment and letting go.

And let go, I did. To the land of breathing and living in the magical awareness of the soul. The cusp between the conscious and unconscious. Unaware that I had fallen asleep. Awareness to conscious reality, only when I was awoken by the flight attendant for meals.   

March musings...

Period of my life: Teenage. Early adulthood

Note to self: “This, I will do/definitely not do this with my kids… Yes, I’ll set right everything that my parents did wrong with me. Can’t go wrong. After all I’ve gone through it!”

Saved in: No digitally enabled ‘To Do’ apps at the time. But saved in indelible ink in the deep recesses of my mind. Can’t forget. No, never.

My attitude: Smug. “Just you wait and watch, Mum & Dad. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Period of my life: Early parenthood. Early. Very early.

Note to self: “Wow. This is great. Did such a being of adorable joy really spring from me? Awesomeness in a squiggly bundle.”

Saved in: First hard disk of parenthood.

My attitude: Bliss. Sheer bliss. With all the minor attendant problems. Minor. Really minor.

Period of my life: Young parenthood. Young. Maybe up to 10 years…

Note to self: “Patience Ann. Patience…It’s a phase. You know the terrible 2’s. But nobody told me it extends to the 3’s, and the 4’s, 5’s….? Must be early onset of adolescence.”

Saved in: Temporary files. Definitely temporary. RAM.

My attitude: Frazzled. Voyage of discovery…of new temperaments in self.

Period of my life: Adolescent parenthood

Note to self: “Let me refer my notes. In the deep recesses of my mind. Find anything similar? Nope. Cross reference with others in same boat. I’m not the only one rudderless. Thank goodness for small mercies! Reasoning comes of help: You know, times are different from my days - internet, gaming etc.”    

Saved in: Caused a systemic crash. RAM has now been expanded.

My attitude: New lessons in forbearance. Giving advice? Forget it. It’s wasted breath. But its mine to waste. So, I will. Anxious thoughts subtly creep in. “Where am I going wrong? How, when I took arduous notes as I was growing up?” Paradoxically, in the midst of all this, a sense of deep satisfaction that a level of maturity is also growing in the offspring. Can be hands free for a while. Phew!

Period of my life: Late teenage/ Young adult parenthood

Note to self: “Our children are not us. Each one is unique. Period.” Easy to say. Takes time to ingest. That’s why parenthood spans an entire lifetime.

Saved in: In the deep recesses of my mind. Overwritten old data. Ongoing. Evolving. Musings in a blog…   

My learning: 

I've come a full circle. New found respect for quite a few things the parents did. It’s tough being a parent. Emotionally high at times. Gut wrenching at others. Nothing prepares you for it. No manual. No academics. No experience. Nothing. You wing it. Always. You make mistakes. And learn from them…in hindsight. At times, you hit a jackpot. At others, it questions your sanity. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. It defines you as nothing else ever does.

We are individuals. Single. Separate. Different. I made my mistakes growing up. Am who I am because of them. I want to prevent my offspring from making ‘perceived’ mistakes. But realise that he needs to make his own. His choice. That’s the toughest one. I can guide. His choice to follow. He is his own. Not my extension. Let him stay. Let him go. Let him fly. Let him fall. Let him be. No expectations. Well save one – Let him be true to himself and embrace life’s experiences. 

The least and the best I can do? To be a mindful parent at all times, embracing all that it entails. Cherishing. Evolving. To be there, through every period – the highs and the lows. As a pillar of support. Back end support. 24/7/365. Forever. Always. In this world. And beyond…

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-      Musings of an evolving parent

Ann Joseph

In communion with my Mother

A journey of four years since penning the Ode

How did it pass, I know not now

Seemed difficult and tears gushed at first

A yawning chasm, seemed full of dust.

As dust to dust, yet at times you felt

Like moonbeams that flit with reality

A word, a thought, a tinkling laugh

All enough to trigger a memory.

Time stands not still, the humdrum life goes on

Taking in its flow, your memories

Till points were reached, where I took a pause

And wondered what your advice to me would be.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing, so they say

In hindsight, I now delight in the wisdom you shared

I know you listen, as I speak in my heart

Things that I still share with you on many a day.

No words needed – a thought, a delight, a question answered

All done - deep within the recesses of my heart

Through cakes that bake, and cleanliness drives

I know your spirit lives on in me.

Times stands not still, with the unseen hand

I’m glad I went through the angst of grief

‘Tis moulded me as nothing else would

Tears cloud my eyes – now in love, not grief.

As I see Dad, living the best he can

Half of a whole, yet whole within.

Your passion & strength, his compassion & love

Ideals to live up to, in this life I live.    

The grief is done, I knew not when

Peace within, I know not how.

'Tis now I feel the meaning of what I wrote then

‘She lives in my life; I’ll hear her in my heart’.

              -Ann Joseph

At Times...

At times…all I want is to let go

Let go of concerns and troubles that afflict

Let go of relationships and ties that bind

Let go…to the beyond, where the mind is free.

Free…of thoughts and desires and the reasoning to be

Free…of pressures and the desire to be loved

Free…of being free and to do nothing at will

At times…all I want is to soar as a bird.

The bird soars up and perchance swoops down

Perchance? Nay, tis perforce that swoops

A morsel, a drop and a perch to settle on

Birds eye view, pupillary skylight – can the two be twined?

A twining…two souls, light and darkness to be

Across cosmic distance of years, quagmires maybe

A fear of letting go, or is it of holding on too tight?

Unravelling the twines, lest one becomes weak, the other strong.

An unravelled twine, a life to be lived

Separate, together…whatever is willed

Free to let go, and yet hold on to the essence

Embracing changing patterns, the sky and the perch.

At times…all I want is to hold on

Hold on to feelings, patterns of relationships

Little knowing that in the letting go, I also hold on

Evolving, loving, watching the great master at work.

-          Ann Joseph

From Child to Parent – A challenging transition

At the start of writing this blog, I did a google search on this topic. And all Google came up with were search results on parenting guidelines. Did you think so too? Sigh… I happen to think that the transformation which happens as one becomes a parent is one among the easiest. Know why? You are sort of thrown into the arena of parenthood. Despite all your preparations. One minute you are an adult, the next minute you are a parent with this squirming bundle of humankind thrust into your arms. You learn to swim with this child who is suddenly dependent on you. 

Still wondering what this blog is about? Like maybe some of you reading this, I’ve transitioned from being a child to an adult, to being a parent of a young child, to being the parent of a ‘soon-to-be adult’ (aren’t they steps ahead of you from the word go??) quite smoothly, with life’s many odd hiccups along the way (what would life be without them, I know now in hindsight…). However, what hit me on the raw quite recently was the transition of another relationship. I found myself quite unprepared for it. Churn, churn….still evolving…

I’ve always prided myself on having the perfect father-daughter relationship. Perfect???? Maybe not always, but loving nonetheless, incomparable - for me at least. Well, to be frank, I’ve always thought it perfect.  I’ve loved the hugs, the reprimands, the understanding, the support…and it continues. In simple words, I adored being a child to my Dad. Of course, this relationship also meandered along with life, widening at places, narrowing at others, flowing past obstacles. However, one aspect remained unchanged. I was the child, my Dad the parent.

In my naivety, I thought it would remain unchanged. After all, it did remain unchanged with my Mom till she died. So what happened now? Age happened. Time waits for no one. And I was caught unprepared. Unprepared for a required shift in mind set. Mine, not my Dad’s. From being a ‘child to my Parent’ to being a ‘Parent to a Parent’ at times.

Convoluted? I think so too. Just imagine what these convolutions did to my mind. Angst, frustration – all because I wanted to be a child with the only person I could still be a child with, even at my age (Hmm…well, age I think is immaterial here). Did I want my parent to depend on me for decisions, minor though they may be? (And mind you, he is quiet independent still).  No, I expected him to make decisions, be independent, like he always has been. In short, I expected him to remain unchanged. To be a parent for the rest of his life. What I got instead – a person slowing down and subtly desiring me to hand-hold him in certain decisions and at others standing firm on his.

Remember how wonderful it felt as a child to stomp a foot in frustration? There have been times of late when I wanted to do just that. Frustration…because I suddenly found that I needed to change and I, quite simply, did not want to. Remember a two-year-old child’s favourite word - No? Don’t I just love it. And like a child, I turned that angst (in my mind of course, as grown-ups would) towards the one person who was, is and always will be a child’s punching bag – my parent.

Till I introspected and realised (fortunately for us, in a very short while), that I was the one to still ‘grow up’ and evolve. I wanted my parent never to change and he didn’t. He still is my Dad and forever will be. The relationship never changes. However, what needed to change was my expectations from the relationship, which I’d expected to remain the same.

I am the one with the repertoire of internal resources and capacity to change behaviour. Can I change him? Never. Can I change myself?  Certainly, my response patterns. And it finally seeped in me that change starts with me, flexibility lies with me. It was ok to be a parent to his inner child at times, and yet retain the magic of the child within. A balance of the polarities - child and parent. Inter-related, entwined, co-existing - either just waiting to be tapped. Its all in the mind. My perception. My mind. What a peaceful realisation.  What say you? Ever felt similar?        

Dealing with pain & grief

Over the past few days, some conversations with friends and also personal experiences have centered on the evolving experience of pain and grief. In fact, one of my earliest and most widely read blogs has been on 'Dealing with grief’. Grief in a way is an extension and expression of pain?

This is an attempt therefore, to delve a little deeper into the ‘perceptions’ of pain and grief. I say ‘perceptions’ as each of our experiences of pain and grief are relative reactions to our individual perceptions of the sense of loss, hurt, anger, injustice we are faced with.  It arises out of our ‘perceived’ helplessness, a quagmire of swirling emotions at worst. 

I’ve been fascinated the past few days on the evolution of ‘pain & grief’ into ‘peace & stillness’. How is it that for some events, deeply scarring though they may have been at the time, we find it easier to grieve and let go and find peace,  while for others…we think we’ve gone past the worst of it with time… only to have a thought, a person, a song, a word, a smell, a touch trigger the tsunami feeling of rawness, hitched breath, a choked throat, a fist around the heart, heightened heartbeat, tremors in the hands…all over again. Maybe in a different manner and with different intensity, but present nevertheless.

What stops us from letting go of pain ‘painlessly’ at times?

I revisited a TED talk I’ve been greatly influenced by, and here’s what I learnt this time.  Our reactions to perceptions of hurt, loss, anger, injustice are dependent on our perceptions of self. “A feeling of self-worthiness stems from (a) Having the Courage to be imperfect, (b) having Compassion - first to myself and then to others and (c) having Connections as a result of authenticity. In order for connections to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be seen…really seen…and be vulnerable" - Brene Brown.

A few questions to ponder:

1. Do I allow myself to be seen to as imperfect even as I pass through the ravine of hurt and loss? Or do I gloss over and cover the cracks caused by hurt/ loss so that I project a façade of coping well?
2. Am I compassionate enough to myself first and give myself leeway to feel the intensity of pain even if others don’t? Or do I ignore myself while extending myself to others in their pain? How can I be compassionate to others if I’m not compassionate to myself?  
3. Am I content to open up only my shallow self, the surface of me…to others? Or am I willing to be vulnerable enough to expose the depths of my emotions, my insecurities & my pain in a frank manner, while being compassionate to myself and others?
4. Am I content with making connections with people based on what I wish to project/what is expected of me and therefore say or do things accordingly? Or am I willing to experience the risk of uncertainty in establishing connections by allowing my deeper self, ‘the real me’, to emerge – finding expression for my deeper fears & cares - uncertain though they may be?

This journey is very person dependent and no two experiences are the same. Immersing ourselves in genuine feelings, expressions and connections and also knowing when to let go enables us in our journey forward through and past our pain & grief. There is a saying that it takes a devastation to experience and know love. So also it takes the immersive experience of pain and grief to become compassionate and stronger for it. What emerges is love.