Rendezvous

I woke up early again this morning, too early. I was stressing about kid-related stuff, which I seem to be doing a lot lately, and this morning my worry was also laced with guilt. Last night my daughter and I had gotten into an absolute screaming match that my son attempted to break up. It wasn't pretty. I wasn't proud of it. But I felt absolutely powerless to stop it. Today when I talked it over with a friend, she said that's one reason why it helps to have two parents. Because usually both parents aren't in that space at the same time, so the other can intervene. I can see how that would be helpful, but I'm on my own for the moment with this parenting gig.

So I sent my son's guidance counselor an email, hoping for some guidance. And then I turned on a guided meditation -- for a little more guidance. When the meditation finished, another one started right after it - usually a song comes on -- so I felt like I was supposed to do that one too. I was less familiar with the second one, but I think it was Jack Kornfield's voice, and he was guiding me through a body scan. I had big tears during the first part, starting at the crown, and then he got to the heart. He said to try to hold whatever pain I might find there as I would a small child, tenderly. And then I had a horrible experience, in which I could see in my mind's eye a cowering, crying child in a corner, but I could not go pick her up. Which made me feel like my mother, who often wasn't there for me when I needed her as a child, and that felt awful.

Lucky for me, the meditation ended with this lovely poem by Lynn Park:

Take the time to meditate, to pray

It is the sweet oil that eases the hinge into the garden

So the doorway can swing open easily

You can always go there

Consider yourself blessed

Those stones that break your bones will build an altar of your love

Give everything away except your garden

Your worry, your fear, your small-mindedness

And remember your garden can never be taken from you

Take the time to meditate, to pray

It is the sweet oil that eases the hinge into the garden

I really like that poem. Especially the part about the stones that break your bones building an altar of your love. That's beautiful.

Speaking of beautiful, after the two meditations, iTunes decided to bring out the Boss:

I had a dream
My love would last forever
I had a dream
Last night she had a dream too
She'll be there tonight
If I'm down then she'll make me feel right
Oohh, rendez-vous

Oh yes Bruce, I had that same dream, and now, instead of that dream, I'm plagued with dreams about trying to have sex with the New Englander but it's always fraught -- there's another woman there, or there's talk about another woman -- it's awful. I wish I could just speed past this stage and not have to feel all this. It makes me really raw, and that doesn't always lead to the best sleep or the best parenting.

Haven't I told you, girl,
How much I liked you
I got a feeling that you liked me too
And if you'll hold me tight
We'll be riders, girl, on the night
Oohh, rendez-vous, I want a rendez-vous

I got a feeling that we should stay together
'cause I think our love could be forever
Because I had a dream
My love would last forever
I had a dream
Tonight my dream come true
And if you'll hold me tight
We'll be riders, girl, on the night
Oohh, rendez-vous, I want a rendez-vous

Yeah, I feel you, I want a rendezvous too. It's been more than four years since I've been with anyone other than my ex-boyfriend:

You deserve so much more than this, girl
'cause I'm running on the power
And living on the promise
In your last kiss
Because I had a dream
My love would last forever
I had a dream
Tonight my dream come true
And if you'll hold me tight
We'll be riders, girl, on the night
Oohh, rendez-vous, I want a rendez-vous

Come on, Universe, isn't it time for a rendezvous for yours truly?