I’ve been separated from my ex-husband for five years this month, and have been divorced for almost four years now. Though it’s gotten easier, I’ve adjusted for the most part -- there is still a part of me that lives in inquiry and wonders; was it the right thing to do?

Though I didn’t have a choice -- my husband had an affair while on a three-week business trip to India and left me upon his return when our second son was three-months old -- I still wonder.

We had a good marriage, though people may question my judgment after hearing how it ended. We had a deep love and connection, we liked the same things, we understood each other, we had two children. I suppose there was always this fissure within him, unseen and beneath the surface, which unexpectedly shifted from increased pressure and caused an earthquake in our lives. 

Labels: acceptance, affair, Big Love, divorce, doubts, Lisa Nave, new familial configuration, primitive family systems, two children

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But I am a mom with two children, two boys no less - ages five and eight. Ages that propel boys to run and bounce and re-enact space wars, complete with the high voltage sound effects for explosions and crashes.

Meditation? Who am I kidding?

But what I would like to propose is that it is absolutely possible to have a practice while raising children. Even with two rambunctious boys - especially with two rambunctious boys.

What most spiritual teachers or practices don’t often recognize, is that parenting can be a practice. Like any other formal practice, parenting requires dedication and commitment. When we practice being mindful while parenting, we are given zillions of opportunities to notice how we’re feeling, to be patient and pause before we react, to use our frustrations and preoccupations as signals to come back to the present. And what is even better that traditional meditation, is that when we are triggered by parenting issues, we have an opportunity to resolve our own unconscious issues and negative patterns, and to become a more conscious parent and person.

So for now, meditation may have to wait, and in the meantime, parenting will be my practice.

By Lisa Nave

Labels: good parenting, Lisa Nave, meditation, rambunctious boys

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I was gardening in the backyard one day, picking the dead geranium flowers from the stems of the plant, when I noticed my four-year old son come outside.

He was kicking about on the lawn, lost in his own reverie, the way four-year old children often are.

I called over to him. “What are you doing, Aidan?”

“Oh, I’m just enjoying the journey,” he replied with the calm certainty of a Zen master.

What did he say? Did he just say I’m just enjoying the journey? Where the hell did he get that line? I couldn’t help but turn my head away and laugh to myself.

I imagine he had seen Yoda say it in an episode of Star Wars. Or perhaps he heard a New Age woman in line at Whole Foods say it to the checker.

Wherever he picked up that wise saying, I found myself giving it some thought, and I looked at my little four-year old boy with new respect.

And then I went back to picking dead geranium flowers – and tried to just enjoy the journey.

By Lisa Nave

Labels: geranium flowers, journey, Lisa Nave, New Age, Star Wars, Zen

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I’ve just discovered iTunes.

I’ve also rediscovered the joy of closing my bedroom door and listening to music. Actually, not just listening to music, but singing and dancing around my room to music. I’m temporarily a teenager or a college student again. I’m oblivious to the cares of the world, enveloped in a lovely world of my own making.

As I play various songs, songs that I used to love or that have struck me over the years at one time or another, I open up a lost part of myself. Each part plays to the theme or the mood of the song; I reinvent myself approximately every three minutes when a new song begins. I am bursting with energy -- energy I forgot was within me, and my bedroom becomes a spot of heaven.

It truly does.

The Pretenders are playing, and I’m wearing cowboy boots, driving a rusty pick up truck with a roaring engine through the towns of Ohio. I’m an independent woman; I’ve seen a few things. I don’t take shit from anyone. I drink beer when I feel like it and I live my life as I chose to.

Joni Mitchell is playing now. I change into a long skirt and sit on my bed with poetry books strewn about. I indulge in my moodiness. I reflect on the men in my life, on the meaning of relationships. I am creative and inspired, and know that life is waiting for me to write, to be open, to let my emotions run.

Abba comes on (I know. . . but I secretly love Abba). I am transformed again. I am blissfully clad in a tight jumpsuit and gold platform shoes. I turn up the drama. I spin around, sashay across the floor to catch the waiting eye of my lover (some of this is just in my head, of course).

Do I dare open my bedroom door again to greet my children who have just awoken from their naps, to reenter the world of my daily existence? I do, because I am still glowing from the musical world I just left, knowing it will always be there, and that it in fact never left.

By Lisa Nave

Labels: dancing, iTunes, Lisa Nave

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How surprising!

Today I find myself incredibly happy just cooking in the kitchen. After I dropped the kids off at school, I went to the store with my list of random items -- raspberries, chocolate and pie crust; fontina cheese and polenta.

I have this idea that I’ll be creative and make something new for the kids, something besides chicken strips and pasta.

I’ve worked full time for years, even though I would have preferred to be home with my kids. My boys are now 8 and 4, and I have finally managed to work part time.

And I am amazed at how happy I am just being home today, taking care of the household, cooking, listening to music, and singing along mindlessly.

Something my own mother took for granted.

I’m allowing myself to just go with it, to enjoy the simplicity of this most common of moments – cooking for my children.

I’m not judging myself.

I’m not telling myself I should be doing something more important or more rigorous.

I’m perfectly happy - just cooking.

By Lisa Nave

Labels: Lisa Nave

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This morning my five"-year-old son, Aidan, was rolling around in bed next to me singing Hey Jude," vwhen he unexpectedly tooted.

“Hey Mom, that toot made a rhythm. . . toot, toot, toot.” And I had to admit, it did. It was actually a musical toot. Aidan has always found the musical in even the most mundane. He has discovered guitars in the form of forks, sticks and corn dogs. While Michelangelo brought forth great works of art from within the sublime Carrara marble of Italy, Aidan brings forth music from ordinary household objects.

There was a time, when he was about two-years-old, that I was a bit worried about his musical obsession. One day at preschool, over graham crackers and milk, he turned to his teacher and paused before he spoke -- as if he were about to impart great wisdom.“Tracy,” he said, “it’s a long way to the top if you want to rock-n-roll.”

He is no longer as singularly obsessed with music, but he still hears whispers from a musical muse. He now performs in the backyard on a concrete “stage” and plays golf clubs, or sets up elaborate drum sets of pots and pans, lids, and pillows.

He really does have rhythm -- even if it sometimes comes in the form of a toot.

By Lisa Nave

Labels: Lisa Nave

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I was gardening in the backyard one day, picking the dead geranium flowers from the stems of the plant, when I noticed my four-year old son come outside.

He was kicking about on the lawn, lost in his own reverie, the way four-year old children often are.

I called over to him. “What are you doing, Aidan?”

“Oh, I’m just enjoying the journey,” he replied with the calm certainty of a Zen master.

What did he say? Did he say I’m just enjoying the journey? Where the hell did he get that line?

I couldn’t help but turn my head away and laugh to myself. I imagine he had seen Yoda say it in an episode of "Star Wars." Or perhaps he heard a New Age woman in line at Whole Foods say it to the checker.

Wherever he picked up that wise saying, I found myself giving it some thought, and I looked at my little four-year old boy with new respect.

Then I went back to picking dead geranium flowers – and tried to just enjoy the journey.

By Lisa Nave

Labels: Lisa Nave

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How surprising.

Today I find myself incredibly happy just cooking in the kitchen.

After I dropped the kids off at school, I went to the store with my list of random items -- raspberries, chocolate and pie crust; fontina cheese and polenta.

I have this idea that I’ll be creative and make something new for the kids, something besides chicken strips and pasta.

I’ve worked full time for years, even though I would have preferred to be home with my kids. My boys are now 8 and 4, and I have finally managed to work part time.

I am amazed at how happy I am just being home today, taking care of the household, cooking, listening to music, and singing along mindlessly. Something my own mother took for granted.

I’m allowing myself to just go with it, to enjoy the simplicity of this most common of moments – cooking for my children. I’m not judging myself. I’m not telling myself I should be doing something more important or more rigorous.

I’m perfectly happy - just cooking.

By Lisa Nave

Labels: Lisa Nave

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You never know as a parent when your children’s life lessons will arise. I suppose I should have known this, and perhaps should have brushed up on the big questions that would undoubtedly come up such as the birds and the bees, George Bush, drugs, and homosexuality.

My sister just sent me a free month of Netflix, and I’ve been ordering movies continually so as to see the highest number of movies before the free month comes to an end. I’ve browsed the movies thoroughly, and have rented with the intention of broadening my children’s horizons, and providing them with life themes and challenges to discuss, along with important issues to consider.

I got my money’s worth.

I also wanted to show my children the classics. So we rented The Sound of Music, which my 8-year-old son, Jake, was entranced by. He woke up the next morning singing from his bed, “How do you solve a problem like Maria….” I was thrilled. My 8-year-old boy could appreciate a classic musical, despite the fact that he breathes football and baseball. So we followed with Mary Poppins and Pete’s Dragon - we got on a G-rated Disney kick. Then we delved into the more serious themes of Where the Red Fern Grows and The Pursuit of Happyness, both of which became fodder for heartfelt family discussions about death, the afterlife, God, homelessness, divorce, and such.

I thought it might be time to return to something a bit lighter, we only had a few days left of the free movie trial, after all. So I chose a children’s mystery from 1977 staring Jodie Foster titled Candleshoe. You may remember it as I did. Jodie Foster tends to make an impression on children with her sarcastic confidence and her ability to make adults look stupid while making kids look wise. She certainly made an impression on Jake.

“She sounds like a boy,” Jake said with confusion. “Her voice sounds low just like a boys. She walks like a boy, too, and she moves like a boy,” he continued. “She doesn’t seem like a girl,” Jake observed in his growing suspicion.

“Well, she’s a lesbian now,” I blurted. Shit. Did I just take Candleshoe into Sex in the City territory?

“Do you know what a lesbian is Jake?”

“Yeah, I know what a lesbian is,” he replied with a wince, looking like he expected cooties to advance and attack him momentarily from the shadows.

Jake doesn’t like talking about sex in any form. He turns his head in disgust when people kiss on TV. This certainly qualified as a masters level sex education class for Jake. I had to think quickly.

“Jake, as long as people love each other, it’s okay that they show affection to anyone they choose to. People are born gay or lesbian, it’s not something they decide to be one day. The important thing is that they are good people, and that they act loving towards others. We need to be understanding of them and their choices.”

He nodded and seemed to understand. Lesbians were just kind people who happened to show their love to other women and act a little bit like boys. And that was okay with Jake.

Who knew some 1977 movie starring Jodie Foster could bring about such questions. Maybe I won’t cancel Netflix at the end of the free month. Maybe I should see what Jake observes when he watches Michael Jackson in The Wiz.


By Lisa Nave

Labels: Lisa Nave

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I hear Janis Joplin singing Summertime on the radio….
Summertime, time, time,
Child, the living’s easy.

As I hum the lyrics I look over my daybook filled with lists and items waiting to be crossed off. Tuesday: sign boys up for swimming lessons; sign boys up for summer camp; adjust expenses to accommodate for income over the summer; send in registration slip for kindergarten next fall; send in medical evaluation to school; weed garden; clean BBQ; start watering lawn daily; order new swim suits and flip flops and eye goggles for boys; arrange dates to visit my sister in L.A. this summer; make an appointment to get the car serviced for the long road trip; remember end of year school parties and events.

Child, the living’s easy.

I wait for summer every year. I dream about going to the beach and walking around the house with bare feet and eating ripe peaches and drinking cold beer with lime. The thought of summertime seduces me into thinking about lolling about with a lover in the lingering humidity of early evening with the windows opened to the smell of jasmine.

I think about going away to a quiet summerhouse where I read novels during the day and wonder at the vastness and beauty of the stars at night. I can feel my muscles relaxing, my pace becoming slower. My body holds memories of summer in its cells; it anticipates it.

Summertime may not be what it once was before I had children. It may not be quite as easy as it seemed for Janis, or as it seems in my summertime dreams. But it continues to seduce me, and I continue to wait for it every year.

By Lisa Nave

Labels: Lisa Nave

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