Peace isn’t a word usually associated with two energetic young boys. Cooped up inside, during a northeastern February–literally bouncing off the walls is more like it. (As evidenced by one hole in the drywall, 2 broken doorknobs, and many other more minor casualties around the house…)
Even the 2 year old has taken to greeting me with a snarl, a growl, or a “let’s fight mama!”
Flash forward to today: family yoga class, the boys and me, on three blue mats, in a warm, wood floored room, with a few other (more well behaved) families. Erase from your mind idyllic visions of me and my boys quietly and harmoniously moving through a series of centering and calming poses. There was very little listening, there was a lot of rolling on the floor, and riding mama like a horsey, and throwing a big pile of yoga blocks in the center of the room and building a tower, and other forms of mayhem.
So at the end of class, when my 6 year old raised his hand to answer the question: “what is peace?” I wasn’t prepared to hear his answer, clear and strong, and full of hope: “peace is when there’s no war, and everybody gets along.” And just like that, everything stopped. And there it was, for a fleeting moment, with him in my lap, and his brother leaning against me. Peace. It’s in there.
The past few months have been, how shall I say, challenging. I have been learning a lot about acceptance and understatement. And patience. And most of all, about friendship. The images below are from the homes of two of my inspirational friends, who have nurtured me with food, and tea, and open hearts. Lovely ladies, you are amazing.