Close your eyes and sit comfortably, spine balanced, arms and legs relaxed, face soft. Breathe in deeply through your nose…and out through your mouth…and again, feeling the breath fill your body.
“Mom, can I have cereal for breakfast?”
Breathe in slowly to a count of four…one…two…three…
*thud* A 45-pound body lands in your lap and starts squirming.
…four…and then release the breath…one…two…three…four…
“Can I go outside and play with my friends?”
Listen to the soft music. Hear the birds chirping
“Stop hitting me!” “You started it!” “Get out of my room!!!!”
and the rustling of the leaves in the trees as the breeze tickles them.
“I was trying to eat the A’Kos.”
Feel your connection with the earth
and with everything around you. Feel the peace
*the alarm for an open fridge door starts beeping*
and energy you share with the universe. Stretch your perceptions and feel your aura, just above
*sirens go by, thankfully not stopping here*
your skin. Take another deep breath and feel the energy of the earth
“Mom! Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mom! Mom! Elayne!”
This is what any kind of working is like in my house, my life. Meditation, devotions and prayers, spellcraft, ritual. Writing a blog post. There is no peaceful place or time in my home. There is no place I can go to and shut the door and be undisturbed. There is no time when the shouting stops. Even when I leave my home, the children come with me. As a mother and a priestess, I have learned to work with this. I have learned to raise energy while holding a beating toddler. I have learned to maintain a chant while chasing a child around the circle. I have learned to follow a guided meditation while holding a four-year-old who wants to alternately sit on my shoulders and hang upside-down from my arms.
I have learned to meditate in the eye of the storm. I set a part of me to watch over the storm around me. It’s the same part that monitors the house while I sleep. It listens to all these noises, holds the child, and evaluates whether anything going on needs my full attention. If I am needed, I can come out of trance and attend. Otherwise, I work in my eye, my bubble, protected by my self-guardian. I hear the things around me, but I do not take them in. They slide off me, and I am sheltered. I begin and end in the storm, beaten by the winds and lashed by the rain, but for a time I find the calm, and I find my peace.