When he naps, I meditate.
I nurse him down to sleep. Milk and song mingle together and soon his breath moves into the rhythms of dreamland.
We breathe together as a calm, holy, wonder moves through the house. Toys are still. Dishes are done and the leaves outside dance in the wind. I stay home with this boy and offer my light to him. I know that this is sacred work.
Naptime is particularly precious. His little form needs the rest. The majesty of billions of cell divisions, physical growth, and the complexity of his 18-month-old brain development require deep restoration mid-day. As a mother of an active toddler, I also need the rest and renewal of sitting in silence.
I slowly move as to not to disturb the small form of my son who cuddles into the curves of my body. I transition from the queen size mattress on the floor and sit nearby the bed. Legs cross. Back straight. Deep breathe. Meditation.
Years before I became a mother, a daily meditation practice anchored me. The techniques of calming my breath, watching my mind, and softening my heart have transformed me. Like water washing over rocks, taking the time to practice sitting in silence helps soften the rough edges of my past and brings renewing clarity to my present. A daily practice of meditation opens the doorway into the refuge of being at peace within myself. This was true from the first time I formally sat in stillness twenty years ago. It remains true today.
A soft and holy quiet fills the room. My boy continues to journey into naptime mystery. I know he travels into sacred spaces. I imagine he dreams of sunshine on water and his father’s wonderful laugh. I imagine he takes time to talk with God about this amazing world full of pain and wonder, heartache and song. I pray for his safety in this world. I pray he always lives true to the light within.
I rest in the wonder of silence. I press pause on the cacophony of modern life and make time to dive into the inner sanctuary of breath awareness.
He naps and I meditate.
All is well.