It’s 9:20 p.m. and my children should have been asleep an hour ago. Instead, fueled by a Daylight Savings delirium, they remain awake. Not just awake, but bickering. Their voices rise and then lower and then rise again with each new argument. Sleep will be a long time coming for them and for me. Ditto silence.
I started Everyday Namaste with the intention of sharing my yoga practice with more people, and with sharing my journey of bringing more peace and mindfulness into my everyday life.
This is everyday life. Imperfect. Not according to schedule. Wacky and refusing to bend to my control.
How do I find mindfulness in these spaces? I sometimes wonder this on days like today, when I’ve worked all day, cooked dinner, taught a yoga class, and come home to three energetic kids.
This is how: I sit in a chair. I take a breath. I curl under a blanket. I close my eyes. I breathe. I think of my grandmothers, both of whom worked multiple jobs and long hours — much longer than I ever have. What did they do? They took a breath. They thanked God. They hoped. These things, I try to do too.
I find my namaste moment, my encountering of the divine, in the too-late evening when a child’s frustrated cry pierces the silence, yet again. I tell myself that mindfulness isn’t some peaceful retreat we only get to experience at a spa, or when the kids are sleeping like angels, or when the house is all clean, or when everything goes according to plan. Mindfulness — the divine, even — is in the quotidian. Underneath this warm blanket. In my children’s whining. In the rhythm of my husband’s voice as he reads them Bible. In my children’s hushed tones as they finally, hopefully, near sleep.