Parenthood as a Teacher of Nonduality
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
There is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
The world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
Doesn't make any sense.
-Rumi
In the world of spiritual nonduality, we often hear about the ultimate and the relative. The ultimate being the final answer, the world where all is well beyond the illusion of human limitation. The relative is this human experience, where there is duality - right and wrong, good and bad. Where there is so much to be lost. Another way to say it is, the ultimate is the true nature of things and the relative is how things appear.
I cannot think of a time in one’s life where these two dualities stand out more than being a parent. When my first child was born, I felt the urgency to understand the true nature of things. Time was precious. I couldn’t think of a better gift to bestow upon my child than for me, myself, to understand the truth of things. In return, maybe he could as well. I reached a point shortly after the birth of my second child while working with a gifted therapist and spiritual teacher where I experienced “no mind” as described by the Buddhist experience of emptiness. Other traditions may describe this as the Ground of Being or the Godhead. What a freedom this was. Freedom from the torture of a mind riddled with fear, constant thought, and worries of this human life.
However, being a parent grounds you to the earth in a way that nothing else can. The relative of this world matters so deeply. We care that our children are mentally and physically well no matter how much we trust in a divine process where nothing can be lost. To be a human parent is to give our last breath to protect our children, and there is no spiritual practice that I want to take part in that would exempt me from this beautiful aspect of humanity.
Over the last few years, I’ve found myself farther and farther from this place of “no mind”. The pandemic and social unrest of 2020, homeschooling, you name it. My body, my children, and my life have asked something different of me. They’ve asked me to heal my nervous system, to learn healthy relating, to understand my emotions, and to make the world a more just place. Through deeply engaging in this world I’ve developed the common worries that so many of us parents have now: screens, gun violence, processed foods, bombs dropping. And the stress is showing up in my body.
I reached a point recently where I recognized that my level of internal distress was actually more intense than it has to be and I remembered that there is another way. A way I have touched many times before. I was reminded of the gift of surrender. A place where I don’t have to know answers and where not knowing is sacred and valued. Wendell Berry’s poem, “Our Real Work”, comes to mind:
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
Here’s the thing. I don’t think we have to choose between this place of ultimate peace and relative existence. I think the art of the spiritual journey is to merge these two - the relative and the ultimate. The knowing and the not knowing. Being firmly grounded in this world while simultaneously watching the divine spark woven through every ounce of existence. Trusting that in the seeming chaos is an order that our minds cannot see.
Through being a mother, I get to see how deeply precious this life is. How much there truly is to lose. How as parents we cannot and would not go live in a cave in the Himalayas, though a yearlong retreat sounds pretty restorative. That despite seeing the suffering in this world of relative experience and knowing that through meditation we can go to places where there is no suffering that we would never choose to stay there.
I think the work of this human journey is showing up and living this life in all its pain and glory, knowing that the deepest of love would not be possible if we did not engage in this humanness. That we would be cutting ourselves off from an essential part of why we are here on Earth. These gifts from the realm of the relative - the emotional and physical pains and pleasures of life - they are the seers. The wise ones. They are the ones who bring us to the place of surrender - to the Timeless Now. Paradoxically, life itself is the very vehicle for dwelling in the Ground of Being.
Our children can be these vehicles for us, if we let them. They are our teachers of nonduality. They bring us to the brink of insanity while allowing us to touch into a love and a mystery that can only be described as transcendent. Allowing this paradox is the work. It is the art of the spiritual practitioner. I would choose worry and exhaustion and injured nipples. Stretch marks and stress blisters and chaos all for a chance to see the Timeless Now show up in my four year old with the very biggest of emotions who daily brings me to a place of not knowing. To surrender. To emptiness. To the Godhead.
