It’s already Friday and most of my plans for the week fell through. I have been feeling really nauseous, I guess it is a just recurring morning sickness but strange to experience so far along. And next week I enter my third trimester so I shouldn’t be surprised to be feeling so tired again, now comes the homeward slog. I love so many things about being pregnant but I don’t have easy pregnancies. This week I have been grappling with all those now familiar to me feelings regarding being sick and needing the help of those around me and how difficult it is for me (being hyper-independent) to experience that kind of need. I always fight it and resist and make things harder for myself than they need to be.
I put a lot of effort into meal planning and then was unable to follow through every day, we ended up eating take away. That being said, I have been substituting hemp seeds for burghul and couscous in salads and I’m really happy with the result.
The best thing about this week is that our garden bed has been weeded and filled up with soil and is now ready for planting. Plus we have another in the process of being built. All three of my homeschoolers have either gardening or botany components of their learning to be done so this is going to work well for us.
As a perfectionist and an idealist I struggle when things threaten to taint the bubble of beauty that I have built for myself. I build and then my relentless intellect finds ways to tear it all apart. It’s just a little idiosyncrasy that I have slowly come to tolerate in myself, I am endlessly hard on myself and on the things I choose to be close to, always striving after some kind of unreachable ideal. There is a great irony between my spiritual sense of knowing truth and beauty lies beyond all frameworks and conceptions and the constant striving I find myself performing in order to capture and compartmentalise. It’s an endless tension and a futile one because the very nature of the thing I seek is beyond all forms, it is not in the nature of form to be perfect.
It is also a tension between my creative/spiritual self and my rational/analytical intellect. Waldorf attracts me because it speaks to the first aspect in me yet I cannot help dissecting it with my mind. I have learned to live with Islam despite my mind shredding things continually, learned to recognise what it contains of truth and to leave the dogma to those who need it so it is foolish to be dogmatic in my interpretation of Steiner education. After all my children are not in a school, they are not at risk of being indoctrinated into some reductive cult vision and I doubt really that this is the reality of most of the schools anyway.
I am a product of a generational cynicism raised to distrust religion, to hate dogma and to be suspicious of all spiritual leaders and yet as a young person I never realised the strong dogma’s of my secular humanism and now middle aged I have learned that there are spiritual truths that require leadership and directive to move towards.
But the distinct lack of this kind of leadership and directive in my immediate physical sphere and geographical locality has forced me to always be interpreting with my mind making my mind the site of practise. The gentleness of Waldorf as something reorientating myself into my creative being is something I consider a gift to come across because it is all interconnected, faith, education and family culture, the tone and spirit of the house.
So I am leaning back towards what attracted me towards Waldorf education in the first place, something beautiful and whole. Does it matter if I call it Waldorf or Sufism or Zen? I watched this lovely short video this week and it struck me that this is what Waldorf education is all about really…or at least this is what it is about for me….
H just came in and said ‘Mum, you said fuck today!’ and it’s true, I did. Life moves on.
So after a week of take-away and television we will simply get back on the horse.