Discernment

 

 

As a spiritual practice, discernment asks us to consider why we act the way we do and what effect our actions have in the world. Are we unleashing confusion, discord, separation through our actions or solidarity, hospitality, and caring? 

Discernment often requires a holy grace of pausing before reacting so we have a chance to consider things from a larger perspective and can act with more wisdom. In the pause, we might find layers of complexity that we did not initially see, depths of emotions and feelings that are not easily understood, confusion and grief. Pausing requires sitting with difficulty before acting which can be hard when we are in pain and fear. When pain arises, lashing out can feel easier if it numbs pain even if it does not resolve the root cause of the pain in the longer-term.

There is so much that I cannot control now with my mother.  Her mind has been weakened by dementia.  It has taken her short-term memory, her depth of emotion, her freedom to move effortlessly through the world.  When I call her each morning she reads to me the schedule for the day, “Bingo soon and a movie later” without sadness or regret from all that has been lost to her.  And she has lost so many dear ones now.

For all the joy, gratitude, and freedom my life gives to me now, I am also carrying a tender heartbreak for my mother's vulnerability and the overwhelm of caring for her.  I often think that I cannot bear this burden of caring and want to give it up.  But of course, I cannot give this up. I need to take the next step in figuring out the finances, the healthcare plans, all the things needed to keep her safe and comfortable. When a family member has time and again interceded to seed disruption and more confusion, and carve a wedge between my mother and me, I have wanted to lash out in anger.  Anger at how they have made things more difficult for my mother but also for me.  When I was counting on them for help, they let us both down. But through the grace of discernment and pausing in the midst of the overwhelm, I found a way to continue to walk with my mother, to care for her, to protect her from these disruptions in ways that lashing out in anger could not have accomplished.

Yoga practice has prepared my body for this caring and courage by strengthening my nervous system, softening my inner body, firming the muscles and bones that keep me standing.  With practice and devotion, I have more capacity to metabolize the grief and overwhelm, to pause when I feel anger at what is happening and figure out what is the next sane and right step rather than collapsing, hardening, numbing, or fighting against what cannot be fixed.

But that isn't all.

In the holy pause of discernment, there is the possibility to resurrect what has been lost. In the pausing, I soften and come, with grace, to surrender what cannot be changed and find the courage, firmness, and faith to help what I can help. In the quiet still place, I feel the presence of the divine and the ancestors with me on this path. When I allow my heart to soften, a flow of love opens up between my mother and I that guides us together.  Beneath the confusion and words no longer spoken, I find the ancient and deep mother daughter connection.  Then the burden becomes a gift that brings us closer in the ways I long for. Walking beside my dear mother on this path towards her dying is how I am learning to let her go and keep her close in my heart.