I recently signed up for the Daily Grove emails; inspirational emails on gentle parenting. Yesterdays offering was "Unconditional Presence - The Oak Tree". This spoke to me, I have blogged numerous times with the struggles I have remaining present and keeping a check on my frustrations, so that I do not become a barking orders harpie, or a screaming harrigan.
Next time you feel "uprooted" by your child's
behavior, emotions, or any other conditions, remember
the unconditional presence of the Oak Tree. Stand
rooted in the ground of infinite Well-Being.
There is nothing to resist... All is well.
The Oak Tree is helping me to negoiate a couple of difficult behaviours, which I find rather testing. My charge hits and kicks; vastly improved on a "diet" of zero tolerance and removal from the scene, but a persistent behaviour nonetheless. Rye is being very whingy and uncooperative when we go out. So much so, I'm becoming reluctant to take him places.
Yesterday, Rye and me walked down to the village, C was sat in the pushchair. The walk down was lovely. Rye pointing out colours of cars, planes in the sky, and picking dandelion clocks to blow.
It was in the second charity shop he began to play up. I had hold of the reins because he's developed a very bad habit of running off and treating shops like his personal playground, and I've had enough of him ignoring my requests to stay with me. He began to cry that he wanted to push C (in the buggy), I told him he could push C once we were out of the shop. The big feelings started. I'm not the most tolerant of what I consider to be "silly" behaviour. I thought of my Oak Tree, immoveable, present, ever patient. Just thinking of a large oak tree calmed the rising tide of annoyance. I have always had a great fondness for these beautiful trees and they are significant to my pagan beliefs and my art.
I knelt beside Rye and asked him why he was upset. He wanted cuddles and he wanted to sit in the pushchair. Cuddles I could provide. I tried to carry him while pushing the chair; he's too heavy and my chair is rubbish for one hand manovering. I rather suspect, Rye is little a jealous and resentful of C. She is the one who rides in the chair, or is worn in the sling and Rye walks. When I carry her, he wants to be carried, and when she's in the chair, he wants to be in the chair. Bless him, he'd worked himself up in a tizz, so much so a nice fella stopped to try and distract Rye with offering to let him stroke the dog. Rye, while he loves our friends' dog, is still wary and of course the man was a complete stranger. Rye backed away - almost into the road of busy traffic. The man was apologetic and quickly moved on. In the end, I did a swap. Put Rye's reins on C and let her walk beside me for a bit, and Rye sit in the pushchair. Both kids liked the change, and I got through the outing without becoming stressed and fed up.
In my mind's eye, my Oak Tree grew even taller.