understanding the nature of attachment

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 5:55 AM. It's the earliest I've woken up in the past few months. Most often we're in bed until 7 AM or even later, as there's no more rush to prep for school in the mornings.

When I found myself awake earlier than usual, I decided to head to Paletta. I hadn't been there in a while.

D, who usually sleeps in these days, called out to me just before I was about to leave from home. I asked him to reach out to KrA and I set off.

It was a gorgeous morning by the lakeside. Not a soul was about.

I watched a red-breasted Merganser protect her little ones from a Canada goose that suddenly decided to feel territorial.

I watched two squirrels work in harmony, which was a rare sight since I've mostly seen them on solo trips; if there's two of them, it's usually with one chasing the other.

It was only after a solid hour had gone by, as more people began to turn up at Paletta, did I decide to come back home.

It was such a delightful experience that when my eyes opened a little after 6 AM this morning, I thought it would be a great idea to go back to Paletta again.

Only, my knees and feet hurt from swimming laps yesterday, and I wanted to sleep some more. I got up and went around the bed when D stirred. I sat next to him, waiting for him to go back to sleep.

But he woke up. Opened his eyes, looked at me, and asked, "Mom, why are you sitting there?"

"I was planning to go to Paletta," I said, and in the next moment I snuggled up next to him. "But I'm actually quite tired, so I'm not sure now."

We spent the next hour in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, then chatting a little, until it was finally time for D to get up and get ready to go to summer camp.

For a while there was this undercurrent of dissatisfaction, of wrongness, a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that I ought to have pushed myself to go to Paletta for a morning hour of quiet rejuvenation before getting on with the day.

There was a moment when I was chatting with D and a sudden feeling of FOMO surged within me. Think how beautiful it must be by the lakeside right now?

I shushed that voice by replying mentally — See how beautiful it is to have a relaxed chat with D right now!

The voice didn't shut up, but I was able to ignore it for more confidently for the rest of the day.

I've done this for a long time. Find something beautiful/helpful, and try to recreate it over and over again, thinking that predictable pattern would soothe my anxieties and bring me the joy and contentment I badly seek.

After all, doesn't our culture applaud those with the discipline to write for three hours every morning? Doesn't society look up to those who follow a strict daily routine or regimen in the pursuit of some lofty goal, be it in the field of sports or arts or music?

For years, I've tried to make myself do at least one thing dedicatedly with discipline and regularity. I'd put up monthly calendar spreads to give myself gold stars for maintaining a streak of whatever it is that I was doing. I'd take on challenges of the form of 30 days of journaling or 15 days of practising gratitude and so on.

Every single time, I failed to maintain the streak.

I remember signing up for even 7-day meditation challenges on Insight Timer, but I'd miss Day 3 or 4, and then I'd spend additional time on Day 5 or 6 playing catch-up.

The Universe has been sending me the same message over and over again. It is only now that I can finally receive it humbly and let go of aspirations to be otherwise.

I'm not a creature of routine.

Every day I wake up with a different energy, the night having passed differently, sometimes replete with sweet dreams but more often filled with nightmares, my worries of the day manifesting as bad dreams.

D's moods are different each morning. He used to be very excited about starting the day. These past few months, things have been changing. Disagreements with someone who used to be a close friend at school have been weighing heavily on the child's mind. With bedtimes now filled with our reading of the Wings Of Fire series, it's usually in the quiet of the early mornings that D likes to talk about those conflicts.

I feel blessed that I too can slow down and be with him as he navigates these natural challenges of growing up.

There is no time to rush.

Tara Brach once shared how a new mother, who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, understood the importance of being present with her newborn child instead of rushing through the chores of the day.

There is no time to rush.

These words have stayed with me ever since I heard them. I often forget to abide by these words, but by jettisoning the unrealistic expectations I had been placing on myself and on life and on the people in my life, I'm able to follow this more and more.

There is no time to rush.

Instead, I am consistently working on being aware and present in each moment, responding to D and KrA with kindness and compassion, and trusting that what I do in each moment with awareness and consciousness is enough.

When I release attachment to routine and schedules, I can attend to each moment fully as it arises. Then it won't really matter whether a future moment resembles a past moment or not.

May this be a day
when open hands and open hearts
lead the way to unmapped territory,
for where else can we discover
what we don't yet know?

An excerpt from How We Unburden by Danna Faulds