Moments in Mom-vana

December.

I have such a love/hate relationship with this month. When I was a kid, back in the day when my parents were still married and my family was all heavily involved in our church, and my sister and I were both still in grade school, December was always filled will goings-on. Days were filled with the Hanging of the Greens and school Christmas concerts and church pageants and candy making and delivering cookies to the fire stations and choir practices and Advent calendars and caroling and "light-seeing" and all of those many things that lead up to the magic that is a candlelit midnight Mass. I've always been incredibly moved by this season in the traditional church... there's something intangibly special about it.

But over the years, the magic has gotten buried in the hustle and bustle. Trying to be Mom and make the holidays as magical for my son as they were for me as a child seems dauntingly important and challenging in the face of adult responsibilities. The demands of school and work and running a household alone pull at me from all directions. The memories of so many heartbreaking events that happened somewhere around the holidays gnaw at my mind... we lost my grandmother, my soul mate, in January of 2004, and I still grieve for her, especially in light of the fact that our enormous, loud, warm, happy family gatherings have all but disappeared since she left us; my husband moved out in November of 2007; our divorce became final in December of 2008; next week marks the 3rd "anniversary" of my sexual assault.

So nowadays, December leaves me conflicted. Dark memories bite at the edges of my mind while I put effort into enjoying the sights and smells and sounds all around me. I put enormous amounts of pressure on myself to make my Munchkin's Christmas special (at age 8, he shows no signs of figuring out who Santa really is, so I am relishing this time while I still have it!). Combine that with the regular pressures of work, finals, housekeeping, etc., and the stress has really been getting to me the last week.

Last night, after I submitted my final paper (I still have a couple smaller assignments due, but that was the last big research assignment), we took a break and went into downtown Indianapolis. There was a Christmas street festival going on, and we thought we'd check out the arts vendors. At one end of the festival, a Catholic church had a live nativity in their parking lot, and were inviting people inside the building to warm up. It had been so long since I'd been in a big traditional church like that. We walked up the aisle to admire the ornate frescos on the walls and ceilings. Candles burned, the altar was covered with pine boughs and the purple tapestries of Advent, and the smell of incense filled the air. Small chapels containing prayer votives and even a few columbaria lined each side of the sanctuary. People milled about, some going about tasks, others just conversing softly.

But then a rather surreal moment began to unfold. As I reached the transept, the pipe organ roared to life. I briefly glanced back to see a choir assembling in the gallery behind me. As they began to sing, I turned forward again. A large creche adorned one side of the bay, an enormous Advent wreath lead up the steps to the altar, the ornately carved dark-wood sedilla sat surrounded by white poinsettias. My eyes took in every inch, memories of my childhood flooding back. I let my gaze travel up the buttresses and into the vault, upon which danced intricate angels painted in rich hues of blue, gold and purple. I was completely absorbed in the moment, so moved by the essence of the place in which I found myself, and the time of year. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I was suddenly filled with a peace I hadn't experienced for a long time. Every other person in the room disappeared, and I just stood there, face to the sky, crying, for what seemed like an eternity.

I don't know how long I stood in that moment of bliss. I gradually became aware of my surroundings again. I smiled at the homeless man who came up to say hello, though my tongue had no words for him or my companion. We walked silently back down the street, just taking in the lights and music. Eventually conversation about dinner and what-happens-next overtook the silence. But that moment of pure holy stayed with me for the rest of the evening.

So this morning, as I yawned myself awake, I let that feeling linger. Instead of jumping out of bed trying to see how much I could accomplish, I decided in that moment to take a different approach to my meditation practice, and just absorb the quiet. Before my mind became fully alert and started racing with to-do lists and homework assignments and fighting the crowds of holiday shoppers, I just let myself be. I was warm and safe in my bed, but more than that, my mind was quiet. I don't remember the last time I felt such a tranquility. Maybe it's the season. Maybe it's the memories of my grandmother nudging me to stop being so hard on myself. Maybe it's God. I'm not sure. But I have to say that this morning's "meditation" session was, by far, the most successful I've ever had.

Do you know that scene in "Eat Pray Love", where Liz is in the meditation room in the ashram of her guru in India, and she is struggling to clear her mind?

I feel like that just about every single time I sit down to practice.

My inner monologue always goes a little something like this:

Okay, I've got twenty minutes or so. Let's meditate. 
I should really change clothes. You're supposed to wear comfortable clothing. Where are my yoga pants? 

Okay, *NOW* I'm ready. Should I lay down? If I lay down I'll fall asleep. But if I sit in lotus position for too long, my feet will fall asleep and that will distract me. Maybe I'll just sit on the bed and prop myself up with pillows. Yeah, that's it. Okay. 

Clear your mind. Ommmmm...what was that noise? Oh, refrigerator. Okay. Ommmmm... am I allowed to say "om"? Does that make me look silly? I don't know if a beginner is supposed to say that. I wonder what "om" means, anyway? Maybe I need one of those meditation phrases like Liz talked about in "Eat Pray Love". What was hers again? Om namah shivaya? Something about honoring the divinity within... I'll have to look that up again... STOP IT, LINDSAY, FOCUS.

Okay... let's just sort of "mmm" for now. Silently. Right, okay. Mmmmmmmmm... when the thoughts come, just register them, and then push them away. Mmmmmmmmmm... speaking of registering, I've got to figure out next semester's cla...oh crap, push it away, it can wait... Mmmmmmmmm... Mmmmmmmmm... Was that my phone? Oooh, text message! Maybe I'll just... NO, it can wait. Focus! Mmmmmmmm..... Mmmmmmmmm...

And on and on, until I either fall asleep or get interrupted.

*sigh* Oh well. I'm trying. That's the important part, right? Not giving up?