Wednesday 18 July 2007

Meditation for parents of small children


by Gabriel Da Silva

When you have small children it can be hard to find time and space to meditate. Young kids just don't understand why anyone would voluntarily sit still for more than five seconds unless there is something really good on TV.

I remember when my daughter, Sophie, was three years old. We had just moved house and the place was full of boxes and packaging. I managed to clear a space in one of the rooms and started to meditate.

Then I heard Sophie wander into the room and it wasn't long before she started to try and get my attention. She called my name. She tapped me on the shoulder. She tugged my clothes.

I had already explained many times that people need to be left alone when they are meditating. But I would have been crazy if I thought she was going to take this lying down. She wanted to push the boundaries - to see how far she could go before I cracked. So it was important that I stayed still and didn't react to her attempts to distract me.

I sat perfectly still. And, after a few minutes, I heard her heave a sigh and wander out of the room. Yes! I thought, she's got the message. Maybe now she will let me meditate in peace.

At the end of the sit, I opened my eyes and stood up. As I did so, a thousand tiny white balls of polystyrene fell from my head. I realised that I was absolutely covered in the stuff. While I had been meditating, Sophie had wrought vengeance upon me by silently crumbling some polystyrene packaging over my head. I had sat there, deep in meditation, for forty minutes, completely unaware that I looked like some kind of weird hippy snowman.

Once I had managed to stop laughing, I went and had breakfast with Sophie. I didn't mention the incident at all. After that she got bored with the whole thing, and never interrupted my meditation again.

I had made my point. And I guess she had made hers too.

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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

My kids have tried all kinds of ingenius ways of getting my attention when meditating. For a while it became a bit of a game - my oldest son kept repeatedly opening the front door and ringing the doorbell. I would get up and open the door and there would be nobody there.