On Helping My Son Move Thro Fear

Photo credit: Judy Stone-Goldman

It must be because we are weeks away from the darkest day of the year, but both my kids are wrestling with their inner darkness. They have taken on a grumpier, scared-er version of themselves lately. Growing up in Canada, I know all to well the affects of spending too much time in darkness.

One night I was particularly beat, and after my son approached me for the third time after bed, this time about being scared of attacking zombies, (though I might add, he seemed genuinely okay, and more like he was stalling) I responded in humor, "well zombies are not real and I can assure you that they won't harm you in any way. I can also assure you that if your dad and I don't get a bit of child-free time that we WILL turn into zombies and come looking for you."

The next night though, I could tell he was really scared and we had a lovely bedtime talk. This one about the mind and fears. A subject us yogis and mediators love to analyze and explore in order to grow and find peace and truth. And a subject I was so happy to talk about now that my son's a little older.

I distinctly remember the time when I was an adult and I heard this simple message, and took it to my core. Similarly I felt the bubble burst when my son got it too.

You are not your mind.

Nope. You control the mind and use it as a tool. But you are not your mind.

But I am my mind! It is everything I am, he says, shocked.

Your mind likes you to think it is ALL and it is in control. But its not. You have the power to turn it on and off. Sometimes that means to stop listening to your mind even if its still running its mouth.

How do I do that, he asks.

It takes practices for most people, I say. But learning to listen to your breath, meditating. Or it could be doing things that bring all your attention to your body, like yoga or the body-centered meditation we do at night.

I lead him through a nice body-centering meditation and he was then at peace and able to transition to sleep by himself.

That little shift in perspective is sometimes all we need to help us grow or help us find true peace. In this case, stepping a little bit away from the ocean of oscillating thoughts, helps us to calm the innermost self. The more you practice the bigger that "step away" becomes. That is how yoga, or meditation, or any mindful-based practice helps.

As the nights grow long, I hope your little ones find peace this Holiday Season. May all beings in all directions find inner peace.

Namaste

The Domestic Yogi

Using the Poignant Effect of Death

A few months ago, in fact a week before my 35th birthday, I was shocked to learn that a friend of mine, Anna Alexandrova, died suddenly of stomach cancer. We were born the same year; both intense fire dragons.

I used to work with Anna at a children's charity in Toronto. We started around the same time and bonded over yoga, fitness and health. She was a tireless Senior Policy Advisor who went on to be the National Foundation's Director at Soros Foundation Kazakhstan.

"In our memories Anna will always remain young,
energetic, generous and full of new ideas"
Soros Foundation Kazakhstan

I love what her last employer wrote, "we admire the strength of her spirit and dedication to the ideals of open society. Anna had an acute sense of justice, empathy and belief in our ability to change the world for the better. Her passion and incredible diligence always filled us with energy and enthusiasm."

When I found out she had died, it really shook me. And for some weird reason, deaths don't usually effect me too much. I hadn't communicated much with her, other than on Facebook. Maybe I am just getting older, and    now that I have more to lose, fear my own death.

Anna's death was on the heals of another tragic loss to the Toronto community of an inspirational yoga teacher, Jenna Morrison, 38, pregnant with her second child, who died accidentally while riding her bike on the streets of Toronto. I couldn't help feeling such compassion for Jenna's family, or for Jenna for that matter. I also couldn't help thinking that it could of been me. I biked those wild streets in Toronto daily. Even in the snow sometimes.

Jenna and her family

It just makes me so sad to loose such bright lights in this world - we need every single one. 

I know all too well the effort women like these go through to get to the sweet age of 35. All the years since so young putting effort in to making oneself beautiful, presentable, knowledgeable to the world. Then using  their energy to help others and make the world a better place.

It seems like these special ladies were just hitting their stride, and blam. Gone. Did they ever get a chance to really relax and reap the rewards?  Anna worked up until her last days. She probably thought she didn't do enough. But I know everyone else was proud of her and thought she did more than enough in her short life.

For the months following Anna's death, my thoughts kept turning back to her. I kept seeing Anna in my baby daughter's wide-set blue eyes and wide smile. 

As a mother, I couldn't help feeling compassion for Anna's mother for loosing her daughter. For her husband for loosing his partner.

I also couldn't help thinking about my own untimely death should I die soon. I remember nights of singing my son to sleep and seeing Anna clearly pop into my head. I thought it may be a sign I might get cancer and die soon. And it made me really appreciate the sweet moments I have with my kids. Though, made me deeply sad to think they would loose their mom so young, and I wouldn't be able to share so many other precious memories with them.

Lately, I spend less energy consumed by the thoughts of my possible untimely death. I don't want to feed that thought too much. I think it was just my way of processing, grieving, and acknowledging. I do try to stay aware of the reality of impermanence, and acknowledged daily that death can happen any moment.

Buddhist practicioners meditate on death to prepare one for the passage, and to lessen the affect of attachment to this world. They believe it is important to think about the reality of one's death everyday so as to appreciate one's life and to prepare for the event.

I am grateful for the renewed awareness of death. Death is a powerful force. It can bring communities together. It generates compassion from mere strangers.

Death can be used as a tool for self awakening, and as a means of connecting with others. We are all one. We never die.

Moving through Fear and Anxiety to Create a Peaceful Home

A few weeks before the arrival of my first-born we literally had next to nothing for our baby boy. I would like to say that I was at peace with the lack of  "stuff", or the oncoming baby, but honestly I wasn't.

Our  cozy one-bedroom cottage in the woods

The fear of the unknown, the fear of permanent change, the fear of the oncoming lack of freedom, the complete change in my living situation, all contributed to the deep inner anxiety and fear I felt. 

I wanted to be brave and adventurous. Earlier that year I let go of most of my worldly possessions, so I could be one of those spiritual renounciats that I so admired. You know, the ones who get on without attachment to material possession, and seemingly live moment to moment, even begging for their daily food. Heck, I even sat in awe of homeless people who survived without their stuff weighing them down.

I quit my desk job, happy to be free from sitting 35+ hours a week, got rid of my beloved apartment in Toronto and most of my worldly stuff. Then I moved to Costa Rica to teach yoga and live in nature with my then boyfriend.

Fast forward later in the year and the lack of stuff to set up a house and bring a baby into the world created a big enough fear and anxiety in me to fill my whole house over -- twice. So much for the freedom I had set out with earlier that year.

As a meditator and mindfulness practicioner, I would like to say I was able to "sit" through it mindfully. And maybe I did a little. But mostly I remember the acute feeling of anxiousness deep within my core. I will never forget what anxiousness feels to me.

The worst part (but probably the healthiest) was there wasn't anywhere to escape from the anxiety and fear. Now living in the US I couldn't work. I didn't have any friends. We didn't have a computer yet. Or a couch. Or a second car. There I was, alone in the woods, husband off working, facing my anxiety and fear front on while the baby grew inside of my belly.

I couldn't even read any of the spiritual books that I had to lug with me to Central America and back. With the half of mind I had left while pregnant, I was so unsettled that I couldn't even focus on anything requiring much thought.

I remember "sitting with the anxiety" (and the sickness and feeling not much like myself) a lot. I remember the only thing that calmed me in those days was to sing from deep within my heart to my unborn child. Singing was the only thing that kept us both at peace. (That and walking in the woods. But walking in Tennessee in the humid summer and hot early fall while pregnant wasn't fun either).

The anxiety I felt at being a mother for the first time translated to the need to accumulate stuff. 

At that point, I may of not felt in control of my destiny, but darn it, I certainly had control over the physical accumulation of  baby stuff! The more the better in my mind. If I had the "right baby stuff" it would assure that I was at least doing something right.

Lots of colors on our play mat.
Did I mention, we had two!

Never mind the anxiety that we didn't have a lot of money at the time to spend on our child like, what seemed like, the rest of North America did. I didn't want people to see us a poor!

For example, everyone seemed to have an exersaucer for their baby, and by golly I didn't want to be an unfit mother! I didn't want people to think that we couldn't provide for our son, so I stocked Freecycle until I got my hands on one.

Guess what? The thing was HUGE and hideous! So many colors and took up so much space in our little home. AND, my son....hated it! Every time we tried to put him in it, he would cry after about a minute. Looking back, it was more stimulation to an already overstimulating environment. No wonder he just wanted to be held and talked to. Never mind all the crazy colorful toys he didn't want to play with.

That is when it hit me. My mindset about baby stuff was just completely wrong. Sure, I knew it on some level, but it took a "waking up". We had managed to accumulate a very descent amount of baby stuff, consciously or by being privy to a lot of second-hand stuff or gifts. In our small space, it was just.so.dizzying! Not to mention the unsettling amount of bright colors and plastic.

Can't believe I am sharing this. Attempting yoga dodging
my first-born and baby stuff.

Fast forward to the birth of my second child three years later. I was a totally different mother. This time I had long accepted and grown to love my life as a mother, and learned to use motherhood as a way to shine the light on my own dark patches and use it as a tool for my self-development. Not only this, but being a mother has opened many doors for me to connect and help other parents.

With my second child, I mindfully set up our new two bedroom  home to create a place of deep calm, where creativity and spirit could burst forth. I learned my lesson.

I try to be mindful of the amount of toys and clutter in my house. I seek not to overwhelm my children (or myself) with too much visual stimulus. It was a conscious decision to have as much as my house brown and beige, with only the truly special stuff glowing with color. You know, the painted watercolors on the fridge, or the rainbow of silk play scarfs, the string banner on our otherwise bare wall that rotates our holiday or craft creations.

Our play corner now: simple, earthy, organized.
Color catching mystical silk painting on the wall.

For us, it creates a calm and warm place in which imagination can burst out.

It took me a couple years with kids to figure out this balance though. I wish I knew it sooner.

Remember that Ghost We Had?

It has been a year since my first experience with the little girl ghost in our house. Back then, it was the first weeks we had our baby daughter, and I spent the nights sleeping with my newborn babe on our couch. 

I will never  forget that awful feeling of someone lifting my daughter straight out of my hands as we snuggled on the couch in our in-between sleep state. Nor will I forget my "Tiger Mom" unleashing of a blast of white peaceful energy to disarm the intruder.

I am not a fear-based person by nature. I have conquered many fears in my life, but navigating this "in-between" world where ghosts and spirits and other mystical forces exist does bring up my fears. I suppose it is the fear of the unknown. As well as, it's the strange new sensations I feel, perhaps the different energy or vibrations from that "other world" and the resulting sick in the pit of my stomach.

I have much more sympathy for children as they move through life and experience new sensations, as they come into touch or contact with new emotions and energies. It is H-A-R-D. 

In retrospect, I am happy for that little ghost experience. It has opened up my mind, and brought "stuff of the spirit world" more into reality for me.

Most importantly, we helped a little girl ghost, who was stuck in our house, to transition over to the spirit world! How amazing is that!

We haven't seen nor heard her since the ceremony we did. The fellow that conducted the ceremony said that he had a dream where she thanked him and looked happy. He said his spirit helpers were able to guide her back, even though she was scared and ran away.

I hated those weeks of living in fear, suspicion, and wondering if I was being watched. It was so eery! Thank goodness we knew how to get help.

Teaching Children About Ghosts

 Over at my house today, I found myself playing one of our favorite ghost games a little differently. Maybe it was our on year anniversary of the Ghost Haunting at Our House. Or maybe it is teacher in me that wants to empower my children to know more about the world around them. Whatever the case, we basically reenacted what happened at our house a year ago.

The "Pink Lady" Ghost.
Yes, scary indeed.

I became the "Pink Lady Ghost" wearing a pink silk scarf over my head and running around haunting the house. I picked up my 1-year-old daughter and pretended to want to take her back to the ghost realm. The kids ran around in crazed circles trying to battle me with swords but I was ignoring them. Nothing was able to touch the Pink Lady because nothing effects ghosts (so I told them).

But then, they figured out something that would drive the ghost away. My three little people drummed away on hand drums and pretended to do a ceremony. This sent the Pink Lady running for the hills and she never came back. Well, until they wanted to repeat it again with variations, more ghosts, ect.

It was all in great fun. The kids had fun and made a positive connection with h ghosts, and I like to think it empowered them.

Children are so sensitive and pick up on many things beyond our physical world that we as adults don't. Children also have vivid imaginations. Combine this and we, as parents, may find ourselves talking about monsters and ghosts. Their fears and questions are justified. This is just one example of how to creatively answer some of their questions.

Battling the Pink Lady without much luck

Now's the Perfect Time to Remember Ancestors

My little gnome on Halloween

Reading Storytime Yoga's latest Kids Storybook kit, The Skeleton's Ball, it reminded me that "fall is the time when things are dying and passing away. It’s the time to recognize grief, remember ancestors and others in our life who have died."

On this Halloween night, instead of making up a story at bed, I decided to tell my almost 4-year-old son a little about how Halloween started. Then I told him how at this time of year, many cultures honor their relatives who have passed away. He then got to choose a story about one of our relatives who has passed away.

He chose my Grandpa Davey. It was so touching to tell my son about the sweet memories I have of my kind-spirited Grandpa Davey who lived a simple life as a farmer in rural Ontario. My stories led to more questions from my son's curious brain, such as: why did he have no hair? Why did he smoke? Why did he eat a fried egg everyday? Why was he healthy and lived a long time? Why didn't he have fast food where he lived?

Oh my, it was more educational than I thought! My sugar-crashed brain could barely keep up. But it was a sweet way to end a very memorable Halloween night with my family.

How to prepare my little blue ninja for the realities of life and death,
and the art of war that a good ninja must face

I agree with Storytime Yoga founder Sydney Solis that children need to understand that death is part of life. Too often in American culture, we tend to sugar-coat, and not give death and grief the proper acknowledgement and time it may need.

I want my child to be aware of the natural cycle of life and death, and know about the wide range of emotion that life may bring, so that he will be okay feeling those feelings, not repressing them, should those emotions fall upon him. 

I believe that nothing ever dies, because it was never born. I believe we are eternal.

I love the simple metaphors Sydney uses in her follow up activities in The Skeleton's Ball ebook to help children understand more about life and death. Like this one: Our body is like a car, we step inside it and move around in it for a while, then it wears out because it is of the earth, and we step out of it and look for a new one.

Or, we are like a light bulb. We are the light within the light bulb, not the light bulb itself that wears out.

I can't wait to read my son the two short, simple, yet touching stories included in The Skeleton's Ball kit. The stories are about two families that deal with a death. The stories are timeless and magical. They transport children to a different time and space where they are safe to explore the mysteries of life and death.

I highly recommend Storytime Yoga's Skeleton's Ball story kit, especially if you are seeking creative and engaging ways on how to talk to your child about the mysteries and realities of life and death. The Skeleton's Ball kit will be available shortly for purchase for $9.95. Or you can get it now if you sign up for their Kids Story of the Month Kids Club for $69.95.

Or click here for a chance to win a copy of the Skeleton's Ball story kit by simply leaving a comment on my blog!

My Yogi Dark Side

I call myself a yogi, but here, I will say it...I find it impossible to practice at home. Huh? What kind of yogi can't practice by themselves at home? I could give you a million excuses. Too much clutter, too dusty, too much distraction, and on and on.

At first, I failed to develop a home practice because I was so blessed to be in an environment that offered me regular easy access to great teachers. I could just stop by the studio after work for an amazing ashtanga group practice. Or get up extra early, bike to a  mysore practice on the way to work. I could walk to a practice on weekends, or go to a free class in the park in the summer, and on and on.

Then I moved to Costa Rica, where I lived in the middle of nowhere. Now I was ready to go deep and really make waves into my yoga practice.  I remember one great practice I did on the deck amid the trees, listening to the waterfall, surrounded by nature. But then, each morning after I couldn't get out of bed. I was so tired. I couldn't figure out why. I got so mad at myself. Since it is coolest in the mornings, it is the best time to practice.

Soon after, I started to feel so sick in the mornings. What is going on with me? Oh whoops, it turns out I was pregnant.

I continued to teach yoga though. For a month I stayed at an ecolodge on the Osa peninsula. There, I taught twice a day, morning sickness and all. But every time I sat down to practice by myself, nestled in a tropical paradise, I just felt so off and so ill, and so if I did anything, I would just flop into soft stretches.

Finally, I had my baby and my body(ish) back. Joy, I thought, I could finally start to practice at home! No. Sorry. I have the fussiest baby in the world (so it seemed) who never slept and needed me at every moment.

Attempting to do yoga with my three-month old son

  

I remember laying out my mat in our small cabin home in the country next to the wood-stove. My son, just a few months old, sat on his pillow watching me with wide open eyes. It was so cold outside, and the wood-stove helped me to loosen up quick. Not quick enough though. Even while talking to and incorporating my son into the practice, he became weary. I aborted my attempt at yoga, and didn't try again until the spring.

I just felt all too frustrated, and innately sad. Now living far off in the country, I didn't have access to teachers and yoga studios that I once had. I missed my old teachers, my old body, my old yoga practice. Doing my new (pathetic) version of yoga just made me all the more sad. So, excuse #52, instead of dealing with the frustration and sadness, I just choose to focus on my new baby. And that was okay. My practice had just changed for now. I have plenty of time to be practice yoga, but only so much time to have babies.

With my son a few months old, I started teaching yoga regularly again, and it made me happy to at least be doing a bit of yoga. In the spring, I'd try to do a few stretches in the morning sunlight on the porch after my husband left for work. My son would manage to stay contented at my side for a good 15 minutes, if I was lucky. Until he started to crawl at least.

Spring yoga with my five-month-old son

It was in the spring, that I started to fully accept my new path as the fallen yogi/new mom. The less I strived to be the person I was, the easier it was to be happy just being.

In my old life, I was a "doer" who ran herself ragged from doing thing after thing. Now, busy as I may be with the fussy non-sleeping baby, I was also quite isolated in a new place without any friends. This left me a lot of empty time. I went from learning and practicing, to putting it into practice. To my own dismay, I had no mind or will to sit and practice my hatha yoga or my chants or the vajrayana buddist practices I spent so long learning from my gurus. Now I had to be my own guru and live the practice.

Fast forward to now. My son is three. I have a new baby daughter who is two months. Although I didn't get to practicing yoga like I used to, I did get back into decent yogi shape. However, I didn't do any better with practicing prenatal yoga during this pregnancy either. Even though I taught vinyasa yoga well into my sixth month, my body just screamed at me to do less. Having a toddler was enough. And yes, I admit it. I got lazy. I put my yoga practice down on the list of priorities.

38 weeks with baby #2

Although I felt pretty healed up and back to it after about a month post-birth, I have been feeling extremely weak and "empty" feeling. Not the good sunyata emptiness either (the Buddhist view that everything is devoid of any inherent existent). More like the I-have-zero-chi-or-fire-in-my-belly-zombie-no-zest-for-life sort of feeling.

Out of complete fear that I shall remain a zombie the rest of my life, I have broken my old lazy habit and have actually started to practice yoga at home. No excuses.

My little angel girl actually sleeps during the day, unlike her brother. So, while I let my son watch his alloted one-hour or so of video or wi time, I get to indulge in yoga.

The first day back it was completely defeating. Strength and flexibility feeling like they were at ground zero. By day three the flexibility returned, but the core strength was still a far dream away. My mood, however, was starting to improve. Hints of the old bright self are emerging.

I try to do what I can given my circumstances. Sometimes 20 minutes is all I can get. Today, I was blessed with an hour, but as soon as I finally drifted off into savasana, I heard "MOM! I am done! Come wipe my bum!" And I couldn't help but laugh.

House Haunting at Our House

I first noticed our "visitor" immediately after bringing home our new baby daughter. Like a nice wife, I decided to spend the first nights on the couch with the newborn baby. What I didn't realize was that I was being watched.

A month or so prior, I took a trip home to visit my mom. My husband went with my son and some friends to a special native sweat in Kentucky.  They had a fun time, and stayed overnight at the host's house. The host happen to mention that they've had experiences at their house with a ghost. Apparently, the previous owners had a young daughter who had died a few years earlier.

Our friend Mike, a medicine man helper who is very attuned to the spirit world, said he felt the ghost's presence as soon as he stepped outside of the sweat that night. He spoke of feeling her sadness and isolation.

At one point on the way back from the sweat, my son threw a kicking and screaming tantrum until he looked up and stopped crying and laughed. "A pink bunny," he said. Mike and the others looked at each other and thought, uh oh.

"I think that little girl ghost followed us home," said my husband to me one night a few weeks after their trip to Kentucky. "Why," I asked. My husband spoke of hearing strange mischievous knocking sounds. "Oh," I said and didn't think twice about it. Besides, I was the stay-at-home mom who spent most of the time in the house, and I hadn't noticed a thing.

It wasn't until the middle of the night, while sleeping on the couch with my baby girl nestled at my side on the inside of the couch, that I realize my husband may be right.

The last couple nights, my daughter had slept on her boppy pillow at one end of thc couch, and when she woke up, I sleepily nursed her and then put her back on her pillow to sleep. By the middle of the third night, however, the baby has been a little fussy and I have been comforting her back to sleep as we lay on the couch together.

I am in that "in-between" state of half sleep/half wake when I sense a shadow enter the far side of the room and float towards us on the couch. I feel an energy take a hold of my baby and feel her (as clear as day) being lifted up in the air. My whole consciousness jumps awake and I instinctively send huge waves of peace and love to the shadow. I am able to wrestle the baby back to my arms.

I bolt upright, the baby stirs a little, and I put her back to sleep on her pillow where she finally falls into a deep sleep. I turn on all the lights, adrenalin pumping, hands quivering, and light some sage to purify the room.

I manage to calm myself down, trying to reflect on what just happened. I realize that it must of been a spirit or ghost that connected with us. The vibe wasn't bad, nor is it good, it is neutral. But none the less, it was scary. Although, it didn't take the baby away from me on a physical level, I felt the baby being taken from me on some sort of level. I feel sick revisiting that feeling over and over again. It felt as real and potent as if it was my husband lifting her up.

What gets me the most is that I have no control over this situation. Normally, I feel quite safe and secure locking doors, living in a safe place, to make sure strangers don't enter my house at night. But what in the world does one do to keep ghosts out? This is a whole new world for protective services.

As well, I don't like the idea of some ghost stealing my newborn daughter's spirit away! And what for? What are they doing to her? Are they being nice? I am supposed to protect her. I feel so heart-broken that I can't protect her. How many times has it picked her up without me knowing. So many unknowns. I am such a rational person, and I hate the mystery of it all. I start to think that the ghost is stealing her spirit away and then going to enter her body. I think about all I went through the last nine months carrying this little baby just to loose her. I start to think other crazy things too.

Thankfully, not long after, my husband gets up for work and asks why it smells like sage. I tell him to sit down and feel better after I tell him the story. He says that it probably was the little girl ghost, and that she probably just wanted to pick up the baby. Little girls like babies, he said, that is just what they do.

That makes me feel better, but I am still not liking the idea of a ghost in our house.  All day I am a little uneasy about the whole thing. Around ten or eleven o'clock everyone is sleeping and I am on the couch again. The lights are dimmed as usual, and all the hairs on my body seem to stand on end. There is a "spooky vibe" to the whole room all of a sudden. I admit, I am totally spooked out. But I am an adult, and it is silly to be scared. Especially of a little girl ghost.

I start thinking about how sweet little girls are, and try to calm myself down. Then all the scenes from the movie "Exorcism" start to play in my head and I turn to the only thing I know for protection. Softly, out load, I start to pray. I pray to Buddha, the enlightened ones, to Tunkashila, the Great Spirit, Grandmother earth, my guardian angels. I ask them to look out for us, especially to protect my new daughter. My prayer last about a minute, and I finish off with "mitakuye oyasin," the dimmed lights turn up an obvious notch.

That is it. Enough of this toughing it out crap. I stand up and go into my bedroom where my husband is sleeping. He senses my entry and half awakes. I stand there like a scared little girl, and whine, "I'm scared." I tell him what happens, and he says to just sleep in the bed. I grab my daughter and happily sleep next to my husband, baby in the middle. My husband has more experience and confidence in the spirit world than I do, so I am feeling much better.

In bed, it takes me a while to fall asleep. The walls creak, and the tv cracks from time to time. It is not usually this noisy I think. But I am confident that it's just my imagination. My husband wakes up after a load crack a couple times but falls back to sleep quickly. In the middle of the night I wake up and have to go to the bathroom. Hesitantly, I leave the room, and happily note that the energy of the living room is now perfectly fine. No ghost vibes. I fall back to sleep fast.

When my husband and I talk again that evening about it, he mentions that he heard a lot of noise, like creaking and cracking, after I came to bed. I heard it too but it seemed like just the house being a house. No, he said, I was in that "in-between" state and it was intense. He tells me that the little girl was in a wheelchair, and that she probably was still in her wheelchair in her ghost form. "It sounded like she was trying to get into our [small] room but her wheelchair kept hitting against things," he confessed to me. Great, just great, I think.

A week goes by and I learn to fall asleep really fast and not to think about things too much. Until one night, for some reason my daughter and I are sleeping at the foot of the bed together, which happens to be the side closest to the door. Again, I feel the baby being lifted from me. This time I scream my husband's name, but my eyes are closed and I feel more like I am trapped in a dream state. I become a wild women with my screaming and eventually I wake up out of it.

Another week goes by and my husband is talking to Mike on the phone about what to do with the ghost. Mike wants to come to the house and do a ceremony to invoke his helper spirits and other enlightened spirits to come and help "Terry", the ghost, cross over.

That night, after the phone call, my husband is watching television with my daughter fast asleep on the couch wrapped up in blankets on her pillow. Out of the corner of his eye, he  sees the baby flip forward off the couch, pillowing falling on top of her. Luckily, bundled as she was, the baby is fine, and barely stirs.

There was no way for the baby to have fallen off the couch. He said it looked like someone hit the pillow causing it to flip off. He figures, Terry overheard the conversation about trying to get rid of her, and like a little girl, acted out.

"Not cool," I think. No one hurts my baby. Get Mike over here now!

Thankfully Mike does come. He fills his crow pipe, and we all sit down in a circle. He says he senses her presence. There is a chair there for Terry to sit and join us. Mike starts by talking to Terry. He says that he is here to help her, and not to be afraid. This isn't about us wanting to kick her out, but it is about helping her get to where she needs to be. He knows that she is sad, and feels trapped. He understands why she has followed us to this house.

Apparently, Terry's parents were not very nice. The neighbors admitted to finding dead animals, carcases all over their property. Mike thinks that the animal spirits of that land were mad, and could of put a curse on the family for disrespecting the animals.

When Terry saw Mike, my son and the other visitors having childish fun at her house, it was probably the first kid she has seen. She liked their light energy and followed them home.

"I want you to have the experience of becoming a mother yourself," says Mike. "I know you want to, but it is not okay for you to go and pick up the baby." We are here to help. He tells her to please follow the spirit helpers and go to the light. It is a beautiful place, and people who know will meet you there. That is where you need to go in order to be all you can be.

Mike invites her to sit on the chair and be with us, however he senses she is hiding somewhere in the house. He takes the sage bowl and smudges off the house looking for her. He says he finds her hiding in a corner in my son's room.

Back in the circle, he starts to sing sacred Lakota songs which invites in his spirit helpers and tunkashilas. We all take turn saying prayers. We all say that we love her and want to help her. We don't want her to think we are kicking her out. We are not. We are trying to help her cross. Mike also has special protective tobacco we smokes on us to help protect us all.

After, he says, he cannot feel her anymore. He thinks she may have run away. He goes around the house looking for her. He says he doesn't feel her. I don't know exactly how things work, he says, but he hopes the spirits have grabbed her and taken her back. And I hope so too.

And that was that. He leaves us to wait and see.

I hate this not knowing. I am a bit scared of her. If she flipped a pillow then, what will she do to us now? Oh God oh God...

So far so good though...

What to Do About all that Darn Guilt?

Last week I heard about a mother who backed a trailer over her three-year-old son. It turns out it was an old neighbor of mine. My mom and I had tears in our eyes talking about it. Yes, sad for the little boy who is very hurt (though should be okay), but we were even more sad for the mom. That poor poor mom, who accidentally almost killed her child, her flesh and blood. It was just an accident. How many times do we back out of the driveway without fully looking. Of course it is not her fault, it just happened. It is not her fault.

Accidents happen all the time. How easy and clear it is when you are an outsider to say: it was just an accident; no one is at fault. And thus, conclude, no one need to feel guilty.

However, when you are actually involved in the accident, it gets messy. Very very messy.

My old neighbor will naturally feel guilty every time she sees her hurting little three-year-old. She will probably make herself sick with the guilt and have an incredibly hard-time getting over it.

And if she does get over it quickly, and doesn't feel guilty, then people will assume that she is not fully human, and has no moral fiber. Even though they know it was just an accident, and no one was to blame. But as a society, we expect people to feel guilt. It is just normal.

The only way out of "the guilt" it seems is to desensitize yourself, become numb, or .... what about taking the yogic high road?

The other day, my friend's 2 1/2 year-old boy was at one moment, running around like a kid in a candy store, outside playing with my son in our sprinkler. A few moments later, I was toweling off my son, and then wrapping a colorful towel around his friend. "Ohhh, look at the towel monster," I said. Then he took two steps and fell flat on his face.

Unfortunately, being advid gardeners, there was a gardening tool laying on our porch, and his face came down squarely on the blade, slicing his nostril in half all the way from the bridge of his nose to the tip. It was bad.

We spent the night in the hospital, with the pediatric plastic-surgeon doing a delicate job of stitching him back up. Four layers of stitches later, his nose looks wonderful, well, except for the line of stitches. He may have a bit of a scar, but should look normal once again. Phew.

But it was a long traumatic night for both son and his mother. All night, I try to keep present and be there for my friend and help when I can. I try to keep things up beat, if possible. My friend is amazingly positive, saying such things like: imagine how much worse it could of been. Imagine if it was the other side of that tool facing up - the side with the three-pronged-spikes! Imagine if it went into his eye....imagine....

She is just so darn gracious and positive, and doesn't blame me at all. And all's I keep thinking is: oh my god, I feel so guilty. Why did we have that tool out. It was dangerous! Why didn't I put it away! Why did I wrap him so tightly in a towel so that his hands were tied. Why why why! And now, look at all this suffering because of it! It is excruciating!

Of course I keep this to myself because I don't want to even go there. And I certainly don't want to be self indulgent when it clearly isn't my time of need.

But it is only human to feel guilty, even when rationally you know it was just a freak accident.

The world is dangerous. We could house proof outside and in, until we are blue in the face with worry, and yet the child will always find a way to get into trouble or to hurt himself. Sometimes, it just feels like things where meant to happen and out of our hands.

How many accidents happen each day that turn out to be the best thing that could of happened? For example, two people who haven't seen each other in years "accidentally" bump into each other, and then end up married. (Of course no one is feeling guilty for this accident).

I wonder, on a higher level, what is going on?

I have read from several different sources, that we make our own "life contract" up before we come to this earth. We have come here to learn, and in this contract we have agreed on certain life experiences to help us learn and grow.

This makes me feel much better. Not only that suffering has a reason, but that is was also consenting.

I have always known that guilt is a negative, paralyzing, self-deprecating emotion. It can lead to self-hatred, and contributes to lack of self-confidence. Guilt in and of itself does not do any good, or lead to improvement.

The yogi's advise is to focus on recognizing that ones actions were incorrect, and not that the "I" is intrinsically bad.

And Yogi's are all about "getting over yourself." The less you cling to yourself, the more free you are. The more free you are, the more free you are to merge with the divine cosmic "I".

Having some down time, and some sleep to process it all. I still believe it is my fault for having a dangerous tool out on our porch, when it clearly should have been in the garage. We have a 2 year old boy, we should have known better. But still we got busy and the tool was there.

But, what I come to believe is that it was a freak accident. What were the chances of someone falling onto the one thing little thing in our whole backyard that could cause the most harm? And what are the chances of falling so hard onto it, like being unable to brace their fall completely? It is crazy right?

So looking at it. If guilt is just a negative thought pattern, that leads to more self-clinging behavior, it will do me no good. I am working towards enlightenment not the other way. So, I figure I will learn my lesson of being more careful of dangers, especially for my son, and potential dangers at home. And not indulge too much in the what if's, and the why's and the guilt. I am going to let it go, and just accept. learn and move on.