Every Wednesday for the next 5 weeks (October 23-November 20), my dear friend Amy (of Tao Te Ching Daily) and I will collaborate on a set of essays with a pair of photos. We each are writing on the topic that the photo evokes and then briefly responding to what the other wrote, so you’ll get to read both essays and see both photographs. Neat, huh?
Amy and I recorded a very short audio introduction to our series, which you can listen to here. I thought it would be super weird to listen to my voice, but we sound pretty awesome, I think! Have a listen.
OK, here we go…
Tao Te Ching: Chapter 52
Mother is the beginning of the Universe.
When one understands the mother,
one understands the child.
When one knows the child,
one is also close to the mother
and the spirit will never be exhausted.
Except for those all too few nights when my daughter sleeps the entire night in her own room, if you are looking for me between the hours of 3pm and 9am, you will usually find two people. To the smaller one of us, I am the beginning, the (loooong) middle, and the end. I am safety, love, reassurance, and cuddles. To her, I am as close to the Source of pure Love as if she were still in my womb growing and gaining nutrients. Separation anxiety lingering at almost age 5? This seems to me to be something beyond that cliche of a developmental milestone.
“They” say we never repeat our parents’ mistakes. (Instead we repeat those of our other ancestors, I guess.) Motherhood gives me a lens with which to look back on my own childhood and it also provides a perspective of the future.
As a young child, I was slow to separate as well, nervous to be left at preschool or alone at night. My own mother was also a hesitant child, but her mother did not force the issue, choosing to let her be. It’s not surprising then that when confronting the same behavior in her first-born, she tried appearing unsympathetic and matter-of-fact about separations to encourage me to grow. I remember one image from a new ballet class at age 5 when I was inconsolable and my mother marched me over to the long mirror in front of the classroom and said, “Look at yourself. You look ridiculous.” Did this work to move me toward separation and independence? No. I was ashamed to need her so much but could do nothing to snap out of it. And yet I eventually went (very reluctantly) to sleep-away camps and then (willingly) college and grad school and am now 100% loving and appreciating but not needing my parents. It simply took me a bit longer to get there than they would have liked.
My parents had three children and two jobs (and we always had various pets). 30 years later, I have one child whose month-long inconsolable screaming at daycare led me toward eventually having no 8-5 commitment right now. That cavernous need in my daughter echoes my own childhood needs, and so I feel that I understand it somewhat. I can see how one little person can be all-consuming. But if you don’t have endless hours to pour into that heart, or you just don’t understand or know what to do to fill it, I suppose it heals itself in time.
I’ve been frustrated many times at my sweet girl’s tight hold on me. Maybe it’s genetic. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning behind this need of hers. Maybe I am helping to heal a past life of neglect or abuse. I am hoping that by filling her need of me (within reason, of course) until she feels that the need has been met, I am allowing her to become more self-assured, a girl confident of her abilities and whole unto herself. I can see that her creative abilities are flourishing, her language is exploding at an exponential rate, and she is more and more beginning to trust herself. That blossoming in her gives me the freedom to pursue my own unpaved path, free from whatever shackles remain from long ago and open to a limitless, unhindered future.
* * * * *
Please read Amy’s thoughts here. I love the idea that we are putting our best ideas and selves into our parenting, trying to make each generation better than the one that came before it. Personally, I think of it almost as if I’m baking something that takes 20 years to be “ready.” Every single day, I am consciously trying to add ingredients that are positive and I leave out the little negative thoughts that pop into my head. I am practicing being my best almost every single moment of every single day when I am with my daughter… at least until bedtime!
Please do read Amy’s post and also share your thoughts with us. We will be back next Wednesday with Part 2 of our series!
* * * * *
Amy Putkonen writes regularly about the Tao Te Ching at her blog, Tao Te Ching Daily. She challenges you to reflect on Taoist principles in real life situations and see where it takes you. Stop by and say hello!
* * *
Naomi Wittlin is a photographer, blogger, and artist who lives in Houston, TX with her husband and 4-year-old daughter. She welcomes visitors and new subscribers at poeticaperture.com.
* * *
Our collaborative photo-essay series will feature 10 of Naomi’s photographs, all of which are available for purchase as a pack of blank greeting cards. To see all the images and for details, please click the photo to the left.
Welcome to November!!! Yikes, that’s scary.
