My wife and I had our daughter a few years ago, provoking a massive change in our lives. Combined with shifts in my current job and my wife’s illness, I have been gradually assuming more responsibility at home. I was no longer able to rely on old supports, which gradually kickstarted a process that would put me in limbo for most of the year. Part of this process involved a painful interlude of inner work.
This interlude has immeasurably enriched my meditative practice. Being a parent is in some ways a close parallel for many of the things we can bring about through meditation. It encourages a greater awareness of our connection to our fellow creatures and the reality in which we live. It is also an avenue back to a beneficial perspective that many of us have lost. We can discover this perspective at work joyously within our children.
When I first began spending long stretches of time working at home and caring for my daughter, I noticed an internal resistance begin to surface. I had an immediate recognition of some of the things that had come up in meditation, and an awareness that what I was going through was part of my conditioning. In this conditioning I discovered how many of my personal habits were used to keep personal pain at bay. Long hours of studying, reading, writing, and playing music were all ways of losing myself and escaping. As a child, my days were wider and gentler, and my time was not always linked to the endless rituals of adult life. Being asked to remember this fact and spending hours being present with my own child seemed foreign to me. I could not endure the kind of time that my child inhabited so easily. My inner conversations and reactions hardened into interminable days of struggle.
Given enough time, this inner resistance softened, and parenting became somewhat easier. As this resistance came down, I noticed some changes within myself that correspond to what I have observed in my own child.
Children seem to have a different order of time. The day feels different with my child, and she has certainly taught me an extended sense of that time. Instead of running from project to project, I am learning to slow down and settle into a slower timeframe. Attached to this sense of time is an incredible sense of play that can transform any activity into a game. As I play with her, she comes up with rules that we both follow that create the structure of the game. She instructs me on how this game operates, and if I find myself deviating from the rules, she guides us back. Part of the fun with these games is finding variations on them. She responds to them totally in the moment, being both hyper aware and able to absorb and process large amounts of information.
This sense of time and play don’t seem to be coincidental. It seems that children have a recognition that many adults lose as we leave our childhood through biological and cultural changes. Spiritual practice allows us on many levels to discover what we had lost in this transition and a chance to combine adult and childhood perspectives harmoniously.
Another reference to this kind of experience happens in the writing of philosopher Georges Bataille.
Even thinking generously of this philosopher, the best adjective I can come up with is “fringey.” Bataille thought comprehensively on a number of subjects including taboos, sexuality, metaphysics, and literature. In his book The Accursed Share, Bataille describes how culture mimics the flow of universal energy, and the various ways that culture replicates the squandering of this universal energy. Bataille has numerous perspectives across his works worthy of consideration. In the same book (and in my interpretation, linked to our experience as children) Bataille describes the misguided nature of objects and utility, and how he connects this view with his own theory of energy:
The beings that we are not given once and for all; they appear designed for an increase in their energy resources. They generally make this increase, beyond mere subsistence, their goal and their reason for being. But with this subordination to increase, the being in question loses its autonomy; it subordinates itself to what it will be in the future, owing to the increase of its resources. In reality, the increase should be a situation in which it will resolve into a pure expenditure. But this is precisely the difficult transition. In fact, it goes against consciousness in the sense that the latter tries to grasp some object of acquisition, something, not the nothing of pure expenditure. It is a question of arriving at the moment when consciousness will cease to be a consciousness of something; in other words, of becoming conscious of the decisive meaning of an instant in which increase (the acquisition of something) will resolve into expenditure, and this will be precisely self-consciousness, that is, a consciousness that henceforth has nothing as its object . . . More open, the mind discerns, instead of an antiquated teleology, the truth that silence alone does not betray. (190)
Bataille’s shift is placing our focus on the this momentary expenditure of energy, done for its own sake and not restricting it within any future end. He makes a very profound point here about the typical human way of approaching problems, and the separation that takes place as a result. This approach consists of using the mind to split experience apart into what we call objects, and then constructing additional approaches or realities using those objects. With this ability humans engineer their environment in all sorts of concrete and abstract ways. For instance, the label “house” is a certain configuration of matter. The fact that we ascribe the mental designation of “house” to this reality allows us new approaches to the reality of “house” and have a mental file of dealing with these kind of objects, from intended use to social etiquette. However, we can also break this kind of thinking, and use this “house” beyond its intended use and build something else out of it.
Seeing things from the level of a child is much different. Children do not always limit things to their mental rank and file, and come up with amazing and unexpected solutions. Like the games I mentioned earlier, these changes happen spontaneously. This is also something that adults appreciate, but we tend to often equate survival with repeatability, and can often stagnate if we simply equate fulfilling our own needs with the purpose of our existence. I think this is part of the point that Bataille is trying to make when he speaks in his works about intimacy with existence, although the consequences he draws from his views are taken much further. He is discussing something that many humans no longer pay attention to in their quest to deal with the full realm of their mental objects and survive.
This brings me to my second main point about the spiritual aspects of parenting. It has seemed to me, as I struggled with meeting my own and my family’s needs, that a larger perspective was in play. It does seem that my daughter being born was part of this larger perspective, and that she is now involved in part of this bigger process. In helping her growth and development, I am helping that perspective change into something else. If I pay attention only to what I think are my own needs, I may ultimately inflict some kind of damage on that process.
It is significant that the first Sefirah in Kabbalah is designated Keter (Crown) and associated with Will, which is what initially created the universe. In Sanford Drob’s book Symbols of the Kabbalah, the author discusses a development in Kabbalistic thought called Lurianic Kabbalah. The creation myth of Lurianic Kabbalah details how that in order to create the universe as we know it, God, after a sufficient “will” to create, had to “withdraw” itself and create a space for the universe to develop within its infinite presence. This is called Tzimtzum. In the book, parents also withdraw themselves somewhat from their children, in order to allow their children to become who they are.
The Hasidic ethic, it would seem, implies an admonition that in relating to others, in particular to our children, we must first emulate the Infinite God and perform an act of Tzimtzum whereby our own thoughts and desires are contracted and concealed so that the other may emerge in his or her own individuality. (150)
The challenge to this approach is knowing when to set aside some of our selves to allow our children to grow, as well as providing clear and appropriate boundaries.
Like the religious traditions, meditative and parenting parts of life enrich each other when they are allowed to dialogue freely. Being a parent has given me an entirely new perspective on my practice. The love, attention, and presence that we provide for our children can also be given to the entire world, something that the great mystics and religious teachers have tapped into. This is an avenue for us to enter as well, and an arena in which we can actually become what we have learned.