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During a leadership program in 2006, my tribe nicknamed me Waterfall. We had gotten to see each other close-up over the course of the 10-month program. They spoke of my passionate personality, effusive expression of Love and affection, fluid state of vulnerability and feeling. I felt seen. It felt like music to my ears. One of my tribe mates, a man named Scott who I’d grown close to and still stay in touch with 18 years later, then had the courage to elaborate, “When you don't learn to turn down the faucet, you can easily flood the meadow.” That was 18 years ago. I've been working to refine my flow ever since. Paying closer attention so I extend mindfully, aiming to never let my hugs or loving words go beyond the place where that soul can receive them. It isn’t easy. But it’s well worth the work. Just like anyone who’s on the “far end of the spectrum” in one way or another, I want to become skillful in how I blend and engage with others. Is anyone well served by diminishing their authenticity, the genuine expression of their unique soul? No. Should I have just flipped them off and told them I won’t shrink for anyone? No. Because nobody’s asking me not to be me. They’re just telling me how I’m affecting them. Then it’s up to me to choose.  photo: James Barker Every single one of us is always having an impact.Sometimes our impact is intended and sometimes it's unintended. In an emotionally primitive society where we gossip behind each other’s backs instead of approaching each other with brave and honest mindfulness, it was an extraordinary gift to hear, face to face, about my unintended impact on that day. It hurt badly for a couple days, but it was very, very helpful — humbling and clarifying. What did he mean by “flood the meadow”? The intended impact of my ‘waterfall’ way is to leave people feeling radically loved. Aglow in the beauty of Love’s radiance. I thought, How could I possibly be having a negative impact when all I’m doing is extending Love? What I learned is that sometimes people feel overwhelmed by my effusiveness, even violated. Ouch. That is the opposite of my intention. Some of the women in my tribe told me they had been raped before — their boundaries weren’t like mine and they didn’t want hugs from me — ouch, ouch, ouch. Or they didn’t come from affectionate families and simply didn’t relate to hugs and touch the way I did. Are you aware of your unintended impacts? Who in your Life is courageous enough to tell you when you are having an impact you probably didn’t choose? Are you open to receiving this kind of feedback? It’s almost never easy to hear. We all have places where we cannot see ourselves that other people can. If nobody had the courage to tell me about these unintended impacts, I'd be oblivious. I salute the people who are willing to speak the uncomfortable. Scorpios tend to have gotten this memo — and some of them have even refined their delivery so it feels less like a stab and more like a subtle pinch. (Wink wink, gotta love those Scorps.) If I didn't find it deeply joyful and enriching to express my Love for others out loud, I'd stop doing it. As far as I know, that will not happen because the only time I have is now. The only Life I have is here — and it feels really good to be a wide open expresser of the thing we all need and want most: Love. I'm far from perfect in my art here; sometimes I make messes and do my best to clean them up. It has meant I’ve had to let go of wanting people to like me, which has led me to accept that the most important person to like each of us, is ourselves. At the end of the day, if we could die pleased with how we showed up, we can die in peace. Do you like yourself? Where does your joy begin? In the place where we find our greatest passion, there will be plenty of people who don't like us, and there will also be people who admire us tremendously. Joy is our birthright. Just look at the way children and dogs so readily laugh, play, wag their tails and leap off sand dunes.  Where does your joy begin?If you are out of touch with joy today, looking for it, I ask:
Where do you find Light? What are you curious about? What makes you feel alive? Happiness is a range, as conveyed in the gorgeous poem below by IN-Q. My ecstatic mannerisms after brain surgery and a near death experience should not be looked to for comparison, just like we shouldn't compare our grown-up sense of freedom to a child's willingness to skip and frolic. We can be gentle, instead. We can celebrate each other. For enlightenment, you don’t have to be Jesus. You don’t have to be Buddha. You just have to do the things that make you feel Light. - Byron Katie If there is one small piece of joy in your day, give thanks for it. You're on the range. It's always available. Last I checked, the moon and the sun can see each other from a distance and admire one another’s completely unique glow. They are not meant to look the same. There is blessed Light in both. Here’s a piece of IN-Q’s poem on Happiness. “Happiness is not a point. It’s a range. It’s not a goal that you reach because it’s constantly in phase but if you stay inside the margins and you consciously engage, your happiness can find a balance on the razor’s edge of change Happiness is not a destination on the map. There’s nothing that’s outside of you that’s gonna show you where you’re at. Awareness is a conscious act. My happiness is not an accident. I practiced it. I practiced it and practiced it. I tried to master it but life’s too multifaceted. Besides we’d all get bored without resorting to change. What’s my point? Happiness is not a point. It’s a range. If you don’t know what your purpose is, tell me what your passion is.” Hear the full conversation between IN-Q and Commune host, Jeff Krasno here: The Art of Alchemizing Acceptance. Whether all, or some, or none of my loving arms are around you — you are infinitely loved. Jess
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One day after school, my 9-year-old daughter sat in the passenger seat and asked, “Mama, is it true that the future isn’t real?” My heart thumped with intensity as she left me feeling speechless for the 10,000th time. Where does she hear these things? I often wonder.  “You ask the most amazing questions,” I answered, letting my chest become softened by her depth. I spoke the words my heart offered, trusting it would all somehow make sense to her. “Yes, my sweet girl, it’s true.” I told her that we think about the future as something real, but it’s actually just an idea that leads us to another moment of now. I wondered if someone had told me these things when I was a child. Or maybe I first encountered these thoughts in college while reading Ram Dass’ Be Here Now. “All we have is now, my love.” She listened intently as I aimed to speak with brevity rather than waterfalling her with a downpour of passionate Mama philosophy. Then, perhaps unsurprisingly to my readers, I ventured down the Love Sermon path. It is, after all, my religion. On I went, waterfalling. “And in this moment of now — the only time there is — we only have one choice.” She gazed at me with her hazel eyes calmed by our loving exchange and asked, “What do you mean?” “Love or fear. That’s the only choice. We can choose to extend the Love that we are — because in that moment we remember that Love is who we are — or we can reach out for Love in fear, because we forgot that Love is who we are,” I told her in my typical Love Evangelist way. She was used to it by now and she quickly absorbed what she felt, hearing these words. In the week that followed, I noticed how our conversation sweetened my life. When I felt annoyed by somebody honking at me when I was clearly following the rules of the road, I didn’t react from upset. Instead, my heart felt compassion for this man, living in the speed and gruel of a hurried society, which might have led him to behave this way. Was he calling for Love? I made up that he was. It’s all a dream and it’s all made up, this story we now write, called Life. So as he drove by me in haste, I blew him and his wife a kiss. Alright I’ll admit, the air-kiss was topped with a smidge of snark. I am grateful for the moments when I choose Love. I am also grateful, however unpleasant they usually are, for the moments when I choose to react based in fear. These motivate me to, next time, choose Love instead. It just feels better. Love feels better.Right now.
And right now. The only time there is… I am grateful for my daughter. Children are the original gurus. Thank goodness, we all have a child inside. There are many things we can only know when we're "in it." In the experience of it, tasting all its flavors close-up. Parenting has been this way for me.  Without question, parenting has been the most rigorous work of my life. Physical elements are part of it -- the diapers, nursing and social planning -- but the big-huge-colossal-galactic part of the work of parenting isn't tangible, visible, or often even name-able.
It is emotional work. It is spiritual work. It grows us, stretches us, calls out the parts of us that want to emerge. Our greatest learning and growth can live inside our parenting, when we let them. Before I was a parent, I thought a parent could provide everything their child needed in terms of guidance and wisdom. Once I had a child, I realized this is untrue. While much guidance can come from a parent, each child needs more than one parent can offer. I've seen it in my friends' children. Eyes and hearts longing to know love from all the adults around them. I've seen it in my child, her sense of inner trust expanding when she is parented by someone other than me or her father. Once while camping, my daughter was about 20 yards away from me, playing with friends. From where I stood, I could see she needed something but I also knew there were parents closer to her who might help. I felt a longing. Within my chest, I hoped those parents would help. And they did! I felt relieved. My daughter got her need met and I didn't have to meet it. Someone whose values and ways I trusted, helped her out. Through this, my daughter grew more trusting of the world — that people would take care of her, not just her parents. Weight lifted off my shoulders, trust grown in my child, plus a strengthened bond between my child and that parent. Multiple wins! Not all parents are open to letting other parents guide their children. I've had my heart gently broken by a close friend who didn't want me to connect with her child when the connection was "corrective." She only seemed to welcome me when I was coming from sweetness, affirming her child's strengths — not when I saw something unloving in her child and wanted to offer guidance. It hurt. It felt like I got cut off, not being allowed to fully express myself in friendship with her child. It felt like I wasn't trusted, or that she was scared. Some parents want a lot of help from others. Some want none. What I am suggesting is that we open ourselves to welcoming help. Parenting can be exhausting and it doesn't need to be so bad, when we can allow support from those willing to offer it. If someone guides your child in a way that doesn't feel trustworthy or aligned with you, step away from that person's guidance or ask if they're willing to hear input about your values and ways. This dynamic of giving and receiving parental guidance to other people's children is never 100% free of messes — life is messy. Talking with your child about the varied guidance they receive can be a great learning experience too. "Uncle Adam uses fear to try to teach you things. Does that work well for you?" for example. Or, "You feel supported by Grandpa, don't you?" High five to you for opening yourself to receive more support and to let your child grow in his/her sense of living in village. I sure appreciate it, every time one of my friends leans in to guide my child. It's like a relief tattoo on my forehead! Except, it doesn't hurt. (Thanks, friends.) I wrote this poem-like letter in my journal in 2011, after becoming certain I wanted my own chid someday. I had never been pregnant and was starting to feel concerned. Fortunately, in 2012 I got pregnant and began a journal to the life inside my womb. Six years later, I still keep a journal of letters for my daughter. It's deeply rewarding. After I leave this body, my daughter can read her mother's thoughts and stories -- all in my own, real hand writing.  Dear Baby Boy Soul,
Are you calling to me? I dreamt of you last night. Someone in India had asked me to care for you while traveling. For two weeks, you'd be mine to watch and care for. And in that dreamscape where all lines cross and one reality becomes another you felt like my little boy. Then one day our group of travelers went to the mall. I had dressed in a full silk sari fuchsia, magenta, pumpkin colored wide skirt flowing at my ankles. A tall American girl I had befriended walked beside me and somehow she was holding you now. She said, "I'm going to hold him for the next few hours." My heart fell deep into pain. I had loved holding you. It was heaven and I'd waited all day to be with you again your soft brown hair and chubby thighs felt like my hands were designed to hold them as you sat on my hip. "No you're not," I said to the tall girl. "I've been wanting to hold him all day and he's my responsibility. I'm watching him." She said, "Well, too bad because I'm holding him." I stood there shocked, jaw dropped down toward layers of pink and orange floral print silk. Fighting energy does not belong near babies. I would not grab you from her arms She would give you back later but the grief... Baby boy soul are you real? Like in Velveteen Rabbit... are you real because I love you? Will you pass through my body someday bewildering my being with the sheer miracle of yours? I would die with love for you every day. Am I going to have you? And if not, why do you keep showing up in my dreams? Mama This is The Motherhood Letters #11, previously published by Mothering Arts. Dear Matt and Peter, Thirteen days ago, the town where we met back in the late 90’s changed drastically overnight. Up the hill, Paradise roasted in flames from the Camp Fire as Chico sat close-up watching, in shock. Thousands of jaw-dropping stories rolled down social media streams. Friends lost their homes as parking lots turned into donation centers and wind blew toxic smoke to Sonoma County where I live.  After eight days of unhealthy air, I’d had enough. I needed to get my child out. We drove up into the Sierra Nevada mountain range on Friday to find you waiting. For two nights we stayed with you Matt, and your daughter and son. For the next two nights we stayed with you Peter, and your two daughters. I could breathe. My child could breathe. In Tahoe’s fresh air, 7,000 feet above the smoky valley, my heart and lungs felt relieved of the physical and emotional intensity they had been holding for a week. My child and I were gifted “tribe time,” four unexpected days and nights with you and your precious, fast-growing babies, who I adore deep in my Tia Jess bones. I watched my child run, giddy, with your children. My own dull-aired living room more than 200 miles away, I exhaled deeply, gazing out the window at redwood trees as I listened as your child read books to mine, chased her around like a wild tiger, helped her feel like family. And we are. We are Soul Family. We chose each other. And we still choose each other. All three of us know we are fortunate to have had those days together. We all know we are fortunate to be alive, with homes intact. What I mostly want to tell you isn’t “Thanks, Again.” What I want to tell you is that I’m floored by your fathering. I’ve been watching you parent for a decade. As your children were born and grew into toddlerhood, I watched you. You have always been good fathers. Yet this time it was different. Somehow, the beauty of fatherhood has seeped into your skin in a way that’s left me feeling really, really fortunate to know you. You know I revere children. Watching you with yours was like seeing the future treated with the dignity it needs to become bright. You weren’t like a magazine of picture perfect fatherhood. You did your own thing as they did theirs. But all through those high alpine moments, your voice for them was one of Love. Both of you, in your own ways. How could I not notice that, as a result of a devastating fire, I got to witness two spectacular fathers, one after the other, each for two precious days and nights? This isn’t the norm. Great fathers aren’t everywhere. How could I not be head-shakingly grateful that you are two of my dearest friends? In so many ways, you shone the light of powerfully loving fatherhood upon those days. When your children needed boundaries, you set them. You named them, you clarified them, you checked in with your children, you listened with your heart engaged. You didn’t make demands; you made requests. Do you realize you might have prevented a future mean-spirited boyfriend or girlfriend from violating your child, because you’ve shown them that somebody who cares for them will not try to control them? You didn’t use fear to force them to comply; you used a strong, loving voice to show them the limits. We’ve had some wild times together, having known each other since college. The men I see now aren’t the same men I met 20 years ago. Your children have offered you a chance to expand into a fuller, more step-up-to-Love’s-plate place within yourselves and you accepted. You stepped right up to that plate. Far fewer fathers do that, than children deserve. Watching you father your children makes me love you even more — did I just say that? Was that even possible? Deep bow to you both. Thank you for all the stretching you have done over the years to evolve into such beautiful fathers. This is not easy work. Parenting well is high service to humanity — nothing less. What you are doing for your children is the greatest work there is, and I admire you with all my Tia heart for it. Love, Jess Dear Dad, It was evening. We sat in your living room and as you do every day, you watched the evening news. Summer time in California meant every other story was about wildfires. Then came the reports of shootings. When the guns, blood, police sirens and faces of black American citizens flashed on the screen, I asked you to turn off the sound because my daughter, your 7th grandchild, does not know what a gun is and I don’t want that horror present in her awareness yet. You turned off the sound, and then it happened again. Another story about another shooting. This time you were a bit annoyed when I asked you to turn off the volume. You said, “Someday she’s going to have to learn about reality.”  And I get that you see that as reality. I’ve been through this before with another family member. Deep sigh from my Mama Bear heart. This is a letter to you and to millions and millions of people in our culture who would feel the same way you did in that moment. Annoyed, like I am privileged and should be teaching my child about shootings and other violence already. Simply put, and with love and respect for you, I have every right to differ and I do. Just as somebody might choose to use a gun to protect their child, I choose to use my instinct and powerful voice — and my ability to select what she is exposed to — to protect mine. Back up with me for a moment. We all get to choose what we read, what we watch on TV or if we watch any at all, where our information and education comes from… Yes? That’s worth asking. It’s worth considering. Otherwise, we’re just going with the default. Is life meant to be lived by default?  The news most people watch comes from big business corporations. Let’s not get elaborate here, this is simple. I don’t want news that is chosen and delivered by a big corporation and I don’t want my daughter receiving news from a big corporation either. Our news comes from smaller entities that we find trustworthy. It’s a simple as that. We want to expose ourselves to trustworthy information that affirms the life-honoring values within us and teaches us how to create a kinder, more loving world. You choose your news, I choose mine. It’s important to recognize that what you call reality isn’t the reality I live in. Yes, I sound privileged to a lot of people. Yet we do not all live in — we do not all experience — one reality. We all get to make 1,000s of choices daily that culminate in different “realities.” But absolutely, and with great sadness I say, we do not recognize this freedom inherent within us. We see ourselves as imprisoned, each of us in our own way. Life is sad and beautiful, as a dear wise friend once said. I choose to expose my child to the violence in the world in those moments, one by one, when it is time for her. When we are ready. That’s not up to anyone else to decide. How can we dampen the ever-sprouting, sheer joy of a child? Children are here to play, feel safe and loved. My child is not here to fix the problems in the world right now. She is here to grow and blossom as a healthy citizen who will, one fine bittersweet day at a time, get to know the horrors of the human experience in more detail. For now -- and may it forever be my foundation -- I teach Love. I teach her that we all have different skin colors because we come from different parts of this life-giving, colorful planet. I teach her that when she feels pain, and when a friend feels pain, she can show love. I teach her kindness. I teach her how to communicate with her words, not with violence. These are tools she’ll need to lead to a world with less shootings to report on the news. You are a beautiful father and I wouldn’t trade a single thing for the fortune of having you as mine. I’m glad we can share how we feel and see life, and keep showing up to love each other through it all. Your youngest daughter, Jessica Originally published in Natural Parent magazine July 12, 2018 Recently in a greeting card mailed to me by a wise and long-time friend, she wrote that I “more singularly identify with being a mother” than any other mama friend she has. My initial inner response was, Oh great, am I weird in yet one more way in life? Does that mean she thinks I’m boring now? Have I gotten lost in the dance of mothering, and given up on my other passions? Within moments, my little self-doubt voices dissipated. Her words then struck me as a powerful invoking of reflection about the last five years of my life.  Let me call myself out, to begin. Curiosity is powerful in relationships and I have not yet asked this dear friend what she meant by “singularly identified”. Letter writing is a slow exchange, more spacious than talking or texts, and my next letter to her will include a question seeking to understand what she expressed from her bold, loving heart. According to standard definitions, I could interpret what she said as this: I am more remarkably, extraordinarily, and exceptionally identify as a mother than any other mama friend she has. Sounds like a big, kind compliment, right? My friend’s bold way of showing me love in her letter left me with a feeling of pride about how I mother. Her words felt like a spotlight on a stage where I am dancing the awkward, passionate, indescribably rewarding dance of being a mama. So that is what I will respond to here, as I know many of you reading this have your own way of shining in your very own mothering stage. On the surface being a mother is all about playgrounds, naps, tantrums, cuddling and a giving-up of self. Right beneath it, there appears a mountaintop presenting to a mother some of the richest and most fertile personal expansion terrain available in life. It has been said our children are our greatest teachers. To actually experience this in life can be fascinating, blissful and grueling at times. We can pay money for meditation retreats and gurus, yet our children offer astounding spiritual lessons for free on a daily basis. Children are the original gurus.  And I’m up for that. My religion is Love. In this life I want to shed all my layers of fear and bloom open to what Spirit, what Love, has to offer. Bring it on, little guru. So it isn’t surprising that life hasn’t let me detract substantial attention from this opportunity in order to “make” other things happen, since my child was born. While I’ve tried to create a stable income flow, I’ve instead seen a path dotted with seemingly random creative output, unstable income and no clear sign of what’s to come. When we are trying to force something to happen, it is a pretty clear sign that it’s not meant to happen right now. It’s just not time. In a way, motherhood has swallowed me whole. I have allowed it, though, feeling the briefness of this sacred encounter. Years fly. My guru won’t live with me forever. My top priority is being the mother I am meant to be. It appears the priority is my child, but equally the priority is me giving her the all she deserves… Me welcoming the extraordinary and unmatched opportunity of being spiritually stretched and widened, that she presents to me. It is about me being the fullest version of myself that I can be, expanded by the presence of a being who I love as much as, dare I say, God. Or so it feels that way. To the friend whose handwritten words led me to this helpful self-reflection, I extend my deep thanks. You see me from a perspective I value. However clumsy and grumpy I may sometimes be, I like who I am as a mother and as silly ol’, perfectly imperfect me. This is the fifth piece from The Motherhood Letters, a monthly column of letters written by Leaning into Light founder Jessica Rios for Mothering Arts. Dear Nephew, I’m writing to remind you that we’re mortal. (Go ahead, start laughing about your nutty aunt now, I know I toss you some funny curveballs in life.) 😉 We're mortal. Not your soul, not the Spirit you’re made of, not the love in your heart. That’s all eternal. Our bodies, dear nephew, will die. Yours, mine, everyone’s. Ridiculous, right? Why would I take time to write you a letter about this, I mean, come on, you’re 19 years old. You are well aware that every body dies. But are you, really? Let me tell you why I ask. Let me tell you why I’m writing you this letter.  Photo by Avgust Chech on Unsplash Plain and clear, we live in the west where most people pretend they’re not going to die. Living this way is a lie, and I love to you too much to miss this chance to help you live awake to the fact that your body will die. Look around. Most people eat like it doesn’t matter what we put into our bodies, as if their bodies will tolerate crap forever. Most people withhold the truth from themselves and others, and they sit around wishing and dreaming without stepping up to the plate to follow their dreams. Following your own joy will show you this tragedy, because you will have awakened eyes to see how unusual it is for many people to follow their joy, and when you see this it will break your heart. Let’s admit it. Often times, people seem half dead. Eventually they will lay dying in a hospital or sit dying in a wheelchair, and they’ll wish — they will wish — that they could turn back the clock to when they were your age, and make different choices. They’ll wish they had loved more, worried less, and spent more time with people who love more and worry less. The bad news is that living in a culture where people pretend we don’t die means you’ll absorb some of this mentality. The good news is that no one else’s beliefs have power over you. You choose what you believe and how you live your life. In my life of adventure — with all its challenges and joys — I have found that life is most vivid, vibrant and satisfying when I remember I could die tomorrow. It doesn’t make me depressed; it gives me confidence! It gives me courage to take risks that lead to great learning. To say things that are in my heart without walking on egg shells. To follow my dreams even when I’m afraid. It attracts people to me who are truly interesting and alive.  My handsome, kind and funny nephew, you’re there now, in your young healthy body, facing the bulk of your life. What an exciting time! So much is unknown. I’m not your mom; I am your aunt. Still, I love you like crazy. I care for you so, so very much. I want you to love this one life you’re living. And I’m here to support you 100% to make it so. At your age, very few people know what they want to do for the rest of your life. Literally very few. Some people have an idea about what they might enjoy doing, that could earn them money — such as becoming a police officer, nurse or school teacher — but even people who “know” at age 19 might find later on that they were just settling. They didn’t really know. To really get a sense of what you would deeply enjoy doing for work, it takes time, travel, experience and exposure to the great big world. Please don’t rush it. Looking outwardly at what careers are available will give you some insights. It is by looking within your own gorgeous heart -- at what brings you most alive -- that you will find what lights you up. Ever heard this quote? Don’t ask what the world needs. As what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. — Howard Thurman  Photo by Julian Paul on Unsplash Alright. Now that we’ve gotten that out… Will you play a game with me? Every day for one week, starting as soon as you finish reading this letter, I want you to ask yourself this question, and answer it honestly. Write the question and answer in your journal. Journaling is powerful stuff! No need to share your answers with anyone, this is for you. Here's the question. If I knew I had one year left to live, what would I do today? (Then do it.) I’ll step up to the plate to give you an example. If I knew I had one year left to live, today I would decide what three songs are my favorite to sing, and I would sing them out loud, today. Alright, another example. If I knew I had one year left to live, today I would update my Living Will so that all my friends and family hear what I most want to say to them — and where I want my stuff to go, so they don’t have to think about all that when I die.
Game? I know you’ve felt moments of being truly alive in your life. Aren’t they awesome in contrast to those moments when you feel bored or uninspired? This life is yours, bud. Don’t follow anyone else’s truth. This is your one precious life. Follow your joy, follow your heart, that is where your wisdom lives. And as you tell yourself the truth, the path forward will reveal itself — one small step at a time — one day at a time. You are young, and time will reveal what you want to do in life. Travel. Read. Follow honest media sources. Watch people, watch life, listen for clues to the song your soul wants to sing. That is beauty. And you’re up for it. I’ll always be your ally. Love and hugs, Aunt Jessie It's usually when I walk around in my underwear. On occasion my daughter, who just turned five, chases me squealing, "Mama your legs are so biiiiiiig!" She giggles and wants to touch me and play with me. The first time she said it was about six months ago and it caught me off guard. Did she really just say that? It was one of those semi-shocking moments, when a child blurts something you just wouldn't say as an adult. Women don't want to hear that. But plain truth be told, my legs are bigger than hers. She has a slender build and I am almost twice as tall as her. Plus her body is lean and I spent my early childhood snacking on Oreo cookies and ice cream. Mine's not so lean.  So once I got over the reaction I would have had 20 years ago: Whaaaaaat? Ohhhh this hurts, ouch, she's right, I really need to get more exercise or stop eating sugar or... which took about three seconds to move through me, I simply said what seemed true and loving: "My legs are just the right size for me." Frankly I almost couldn't believe what I'd said. Was that really me talking, saying words of self-acceptance about my body? Who was this matter-of-fact-I'm-fine woman that I'd become? Let me answer that question. This woman is a woman who has experienced so much culturally and self-inflicted criticism, yes mostly self inflicted, about my body that I refused to ever, no I have not ever, said one negative word about my body around my daughter. I don't talk about women's bodies as if they are to be criticized. Spending 30-something years in the pain of that world was enough. This is a woman who birthed a girl child, for whom I want as little of that kind of pain as humanly possible. Magazine ads and peer chatter will be enough for her to pick up on society's sick perspectives about the female body. I will not be contributing to that. We all get to choose our parenting style. We all get to choose what we say to our children. So many of us want our children to be free of the wounds we lived through in our own childhood. Will we teach our daughters to focus on their bodies' strength, on how they feel? Will we teach our sons to respect girls' bodies, by respecting our own in front of them? As for me, the best I can do is let the outrageously big love I feel for my daughter escalate my own process of accepting that I am fine. I am just fine, just the way I am, whether it's summertime and my skin is glowing, or a long dark winter where I'm pale as a pigeon plucking snow from the curb. At age 14 I had magazine covers plastered on my walls because I thought supermodels were it, and I wanted to be like them. Now, things are different. Age has freed me up. Something like that. Yes I know full self acceptance is a tall order. Yet I know it is worth wanting. Thank you, child, for calling forth my wiser self. May you always know your legs are just the right size for you, too. May you have no idea how many thousands of hours I've spent criticizing my own body, and especially my legs, until someday by the fire while we're camping, it feels like time to tell you that story. Dear child, may your life show you a way that is glorious galaxies beyond the wisdom of mine. as published in the Natural Parent magazine, New Zealand  Idealism can be a blessing and a curse. To be at peace we must surrender our ideals at times rather than clinging to high dreams. Yet the imagination is a gift, and if we are in love with the human spirit — as I am — we ask ourselves which elements of society best honor the human spirit, and which do not. In this article I will leave out criticisms of school, its original design, and how it fails young humans and our future. Those critiques are not the best use of my writing. Sharing what I believe does serve life, is. What I will assert is that all children are naturally curious. All children are born ready to learn, and homeschooling is a brilliant way to honor a child’s inherent beauty and wholeness.  Photo by Senjuti Kundu on Unsplash Once led by religious families who wanted God to be central in their education, the homeschooling movement is now comprised largely of families who simply want their children’s learning to be natural. Less forced, more free. Consider 30-year-old Tiffany Smith, who was homeschooled from 4th-12th grade and completed all her degrees, Associates through Doctorate, online. “My mom paved the way for child-led learning for me. She let me choose what I wanted to learn. I graduated two years early, valedictorian out of a class of 600 in our homeschooling program, then went on to achieve awards and graduate with honors for every degree. I am very grateful for my mom’s faith in me.” On average, two hours per day are required for a homeschooled child to learn the subject matter. In school, this is found to be the actual amount of time spent learning subjects. How about socialization? The myth that homeschooled kids are largely under-socialized is amusing to me at this point. Homeschooled kids overall do not lack social skills in contrast to schooled kids. In my experience, homeschooled kids often possess unusual levels of maturity in social scenarios, including a noted ability to interact with adults.  Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash My own self-directed learning journey began in college when I stepped into a professor’s office in tears about something disturbing I had learned in his class. He listened attentively, said I’m not an average student and that I might want to write my own major. We opened the Course Catalog, I chose courses that were highly appealing and spoke to my strongest curiosities, and two years later I graduated with a BA in Social Ecology and Personal Ethics. No, those two years weren’t easy. Charting a homeschooling path for our own children isn’t easy, either. Most parents who homeschool their kids find themselves asking, every so often, Was I crazy to do this!? Yet quickly they bounce back to being 100% convinced it is the richest and most joyful educational path, worth all the time and heart, courage and vision it entails. As with any rich topic worth exploring, it’s wise to keep an open mind and trade defensiveness for curiosity. Conversations about parenting and how we educate our children can lead to divisive degrees of blame and other negative emotions and communication dynamics. School teachers and parents who feel judged or threatened by the idea or practice of homeschooling are a prime example. Yet it is possible to find teachers and parents with open minds, who accept that we don’t all need to see or choose like each other. Chances are, you will find open minds when yours, too, is open. That said, don’t expect to find these conversations easy at every turn. This is not the easy path. I don’t want to paint an excruciatingly rough picture, and I also don’t want to portray homeschool life as “eating Bon Bons on the sofa all day.” One defensive school teacher mom voiced this remark and I mention it as a reminder that those who choose to homeschool are in the courageous minority — fast growing, yet requiring maturity to face ignorant perspectives like this, and then move on. Thank goodness we are well supported by our own primal instincts and maternal intuition, by studies, and by a blossoming number of well informed leaders and organizations.  Photo by Tina Floersch on Unsplash Turning to other moms is my Step Numero Uno when facing a tough issue or decision. Half of the time, that’s all I need. Where I live in coastal Northern California, there’s an abundance of homeschooling and the well informed open-mindedness required to do it well. When a mama friend isn’t enough to solve my problem, I reach for movement leaders and organizations with deep wells of wisdom and resources to share. Wild + Free began as a small community of Instagram’ing mamas on the U.S. east coast and grew a ton in recent years. At the heart of W+F is the desire to give children a quality education while preserving the wonder, freedom and adventure of childhood. Recent articles released by W+F include Shaping Souls that Break the Mold, The Lost Art of the Family Walk and Nature Journaling the Human Body. “For as long as humans have lived on this earth, children have been schooled at home. Still, we homeschooling mamas often feel like pioneers forging a new path for the next generation,” writes W+F founder Ainsley Arment. Feel the spirit? Pioneering requires great courage, so having a supportive community is essential. Self-Directed Learning advocate Blake Boles quit his college astrophysics program to design his own degree in alternative education. Blake leads teenagers on international self-directed learning trips through his company Unschool Adventures, and is the author of three books including The Art of Self-Directed Learning (2014) and College Without High School (2009). He also wrote one of the most compelling pieces I’ve ever read on education: What Does it Mean to be Educated? Thirsty for a deep critique of school? Turn to one of the greatest minds in the homeschooling movement, former New York State and NYC Teacher of the Year John Taylor Gatto, who wrote Dumbing Us Down and The Underground History of American Education. Speaking in London on The Purpose of Education in 2012, Noam Chomsky rolled out genius reflections that may be tough for some to swallow yet will thrill anyone who is open minded and interested in the brave pursuit of an authentic life for self and child. School reformer, youth rights theory pioneer and former classroom teacher John Holt (1923-1985) published several books including the popular How Children Fail and How Children Learn. Numerous groups are available online for homeschooling families. Laura Grace Weldon’s Free Range Learning Community is one of my favorites. For bedtime reading without the glare of blue light escorting your dream state, her book Free-Range Learning beautifully explores the meaning and importance of natural learning. Unschooling is a form of homeschooling guided by the learner, where self-chosen activities and life experiences of the learner lead the way. The Alliance for Self-Directed Education created a fantastic short video for those curious about what self-directed education means and why it’s beneficial for learners.  Most of the homeschooling parents I know are far-out passionate about providing a rich educational life for their children, one rooted in the most natural way young humans learn — based on interest, with freedom to play, non-coercively. Yet for many parents who want to homeschool, it just doesn’t work out. For many families, school is an easier path for one reason or another. Lifestyle and income play a huge role. Often in homeschooling families, Papa works at a paid job full time and Mama leads the homeschooling journey (on top of her other unpaid jobs). But this recipe doesn’t work for everyone, and it doesn’t work for my family. As with any path worth walking, this one requires a willingness to explore possibilities and see what works for you. Buying less stuff? That helps. Spending more time with our children sometimes asks that we be willing to downsize, live minimally. Parenting is the big work of life. We are all doing our best. A mother’s intuition is one of a child’s greatest allies. After all, as Laura Grace Weldon wrote, Mother and Child are Linked at a Cellular Level. Humanity will become more clear of this in time. Be honest about what you want. Find community to lean on. In the words of former Waldorf teacher and homeschooling mother of three Melanie Heysek-Macdonald, “Do what feels right for you. There is lots to consider, and there are so many options for what’s right out there.” |
AuthorJessica Rios, Founder of Leaning into Light, was born with a divine pen in her heart. Love is her 'religion'. A lifelong letter writer and a thought leader in Love, her blog is devoted to her greatest passion: illuminating the beauty of the human spirit so we all move closer to remembering that Love is Who We Are. 
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