i sometimes succumb to that dreaded homeschool-parent malady known as doubt. the actual clinical term is "oh-my-goodness-have-we-made-a-huge-and-irreversible-mistake-in-our-approach-to-education-that-will-scar-our-kids-forever-itis", but i will stick with "doubt" from here on out for the sake if brevity.
yesterday was one of those days. one failed attempt to play a writing game and i came down with a bad case (sometimes it takes a lot to set off a "doubt flare." in this case, not so much). "are they learning anything?"; "have i helped nourish a healthy love of learning and life-long curiosity?"; "do they know themselves, their interests, their passions?"
one of the clinical manifestations of doubt (for me) is frustration. i don't curl up; i come out in full problem-solving mode. my sweet daughter (who is not a head-butt-er) and i butted heads...hard. i (who am not generally a push-er) pushed...hard. we both ended up feeling battered and disconnected.
what i learned (having a healthy love of learning and life-long curiosity...especially about my own internal emotional workings) is that I needed to get back to basics: breath and gentle communication.
usually, it's a good idea to try this out BEFORE doubt becomes frustration (oops), but it works no matter where i am on the spectrum (doubting, frustrated, downright crazed). sometimes it takes lots (and lots and lots) of breath before gentle communication is available to me. and then sometimes, i backslide; gentle communication starts to move into the not-so-gentle landscape. oh look, I need to breathe again.
so, i breathed. isabella breathed. inhaling and exhaling, we found each other's hearts again. and with my heart opened, i began to look around for signs that maybe, just maybe my doubts are unfounded.
and with eyes open and on the prowl, i saw those signs EVERYWHERE that i looked. my body slowly softened into trust...
dedicated to isabella who has so many interests and passions, talents and gifts (the greatest of which is a heart the size of the universe). i love you, sweet pea.
they didn't want to get out of the car.
"do we have to hike?"
"let's show tormod chimonkey land."
and that sealed the deal.
I wanted to move a bit first, so i guided them toward the short redwood loop. they ran and played, Andre and his best friend, his best friend who leaves today for his home an ocean away.
and then, we arrive....chimonkey land.
chimonkey land where the sun is always warm and the river eases by, where sand buildings must be built and rope swings must be swung. where time ceases and the moment takes over.
and here, we live; we thrive.
in the slowness of the softly flowing river.