Sometimes silliness is all the world needs.
Sometimes the cure for the war with the gremlins in your head is a death-match in a moon bounce with 4 mini-warriors (age 4-8) who morph into lions and gods and super heros and tackle you and demand hugs and monster-like growls so they can have the excuse to tackle you again. Eventually the only thing to do is surrender.
Max and I went to a party on Saturday night. A party with a moon bounce. The kids had an hour of hilarity before the sun went down before they tromped in to settle down for the night. After all the kids had settled in in front of the movie, Max came and pulled me from my fire side chat with the civilized adults. He whispered conspiratorially, “Mom, I want to bounce some more.”
“Ok,” I said and excused myself to supervise, even though it was dark. A parked car was providing light Max told me. And the moon too. “Why not,” I thought. How often is one in the presence of a giant castle made of rubber and air.
Max climbed in and turned around. “You coming?” he asked as though the answer was already clear. I shrugged. I took off my grown-up shoes and crawled in after him. A boy can’t bounce alone.
Tumbling, and falling down and getting up and laughing. He is Lord Poseidon, God of the Sea and I am Kronos the Titan king. He is a dog and I am a cat. He is a summo wrestler superhero and I MUST be taken down. He is pure joy. Radiant like the moon that allows me to see him in the shadows as he prepares to bounce once more into my arms.
Later, after dinner he finds me again in front of the fire. “Mom, a bunch of us want to go back outside but we need a grown-up.” There are four shining expectant faces looking up at me. It is mission impossible and I am their last hope. I put down my glass, my plate of finger food and head for the door, assuring the parents that a responsible adult will supervise. I hoist the little ones in, Max crawls in last. He looks behind me with a look on his face I wish I could bottle–I look that says, “I dare you not to bathe in joy”. “You coming?” he says. “Absolutely” I say answering his challenge as I hoist up my dress and kick off my shoes.
The way to tame the gremlins inside is to simply jump. Jump high. Jump until your skirt threatens to fly over your head. Jump until the laughter is so loud that you draw the crowd away from the warm toasty inside, as they all comes to see what is so marvelous that five voices laugh like 50.
Later that night as I was snuggling Max before sleep, he whispers to me, “Mama. That was the most fun I have had in years.” I kiss him on the forehead and hold my whole life made right, made whole, made complete.
It never fails to surprise me. It creeps up on me and shocks the hell out of me. Just when I think that I have become fearless, just when I think I have overcome my deepest darkest fears, just when I think that I have done my soul work and gotten an A+ on the lesson, then I realize how terribly scared I still am.
Does it ever end as we peel away, layer by layer the protective walls we put around our hearts? It seems that no matter, how much work I do, its still there, more and more subtle but there. This fearfulness.
Shortly after my marriage failed, I found feng shui. After suffering such a devestating loss, after feeling so adrift, after realizing there was no security in this thing called marriage, I found a sense of control and order. If I could just eliminate the clutter, if I could place the bamboo just so, if I could figure out the flow of energy in this house I could be safe. I spent long hours, arranging, planning, sorting…and desperately holding on to a vision that my life would be OK.
At other times, it would be my job, my money, my community, my life as a mother, my writing and creativity, my spiritual journey, even this blog… a long line of things that made me feel anchored and safe. One by one I transform each into a security blanket the thing that would keep that fear at bay. The fear of being here. All. Alone.
And over and over again I would learn, the more that I grasp at these things, the more they slip through my fingers like water, proving to me again and again that while each one of these things delights, my security comes from none of them.
They are false idols, lined up in the temple of my heart–I deify them and doom them to failure. They will not save me. Over and over again I learn that really, its just me. And my faith.
Yup… in the ends its just me. As rich as my life is, there is nothing to grasp onto but what is here in my heart and my faith. No matter how hard I try, I cannot be anchored for life is a river and it is sweeping me along and carrying me, pulling me moving me. And that scares the hell out of me.
But make no mistake. This is not a sad or desperate post.
Because I am breathing sweet free air of liberation. I can stop looking for the thing that is going to save me. I can stop waiting for it to delivered and come along. I can stop fearing that it will all disappear if I say or do the wrong thing. I have it, have always had it, will always have it, right here in my heart.
I am the thing that saves me.
I am so unpracticed at this way of being.
So I will stumble along and when I trip, I will reach for something to steady myself but when it disappears into thin air I will not feel the bruising crash of my body slamming down, but the steadiness of my hand against the ground. Catching myself.
