Grieving that which goes unnamed

I thought today was the first pizza day at Montessori School for my son. Apparently, it starts next week and I did not bring him a lunch. I pulled one together from thin air and dropped it off a few minutes ago. I gazed in the window to watch Birch and see what he was up to. He was standing at the door to the outside, looking out, and occasionally looking around. He looked a little lost. Leaving, I felt profound sadness about the loss of community that we cannot see.

In the school they talk to us about practicing separation for the children and trusting that parents always come back. I am practicing getting behind that, but I do not find it natural.

I recall just a few weeks ago being at Dance Camp and camping with dear friends. They have two children who are close in age to Birch. We, the parents, collaborated in a way that felt natural and easeful, in the adventure of caring for our collective three children. All of the children feel safe and comfortable with one another and all of the parents. It was easy to walk away for a few minutes and go to the bathroom alone, or prepare food for the children, knowing that someone else is caring for them and trusting that deeply.

Birch’s school is wonderful and the teachers are fabulous. They are worthy of our trust, yet it feels unnatural to drop him off with a room full of strangers, and leave peel him off of me crying so I can “make a living”. When I do this, I feel the ridiculousness of the way our societal structure has evolved. Everyone has to work, “to make ends meet”. We work more to pay for childcare.

The experience at Dance Camp was an unnatural microcosm of what used to be. We lived tribally, with parents, grandparents, sisters, brothers, friends and lovers. Now we live in our respective, separate, isolated homes, without the structure or support we actually need to raise children and care for ourselves.

We do not talk about this, but organ prolapse for mothers is at an all time high. The energy of prolapsed organs is all about a lack of support. Time and time again, I work with clients who have organ prolapse, and in their stories they talk about feeling exhausted and needing more support.

Often my blogs and newsletters contain tips and wisdom. The wisdom here is simply naming that if you, as a mother or father, are feeling grief that is not rooted in any thing in particular, I believe your soul may be yearning for something that is so natural, but not in existence anymore.

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