Leting Go of "the" Truth

"The problem created when you decide the 'truth' of something is you've cut yourself off from the greater 'truth' of infinite possibilities."  --Temple Illuminatus (@Illumine_Nation on Twitter)

I have been on a search for "the truth" lately. 

The truth I have been searching for is, "What is wrong with my son's stomach?" and "What should I do about it?" I have thought about it. I have meditated about it. I have talked about it. I have consulted experts about it (two doctors, one naturopath, a psychic, a massage therapist and many, many other moms).  And yet, the "truth" has alluded me.

I have gotten some answers. Some that seemed to help; others that didn't. But no one has given me the "truth," in its unadulterated and completely recognizable form.

Is it physical? Is it metaphysical? Is it mental? Is it emotional? Is it stress? Is it a virus, a bacteria, a parasite, or something we haven't yet considered?

Last Thursday he was back in school, although not happily, and not without a lot of trepidation on my part. Still so many questions: Would he be okay? Would going to school make his stomach aches worse again? Was he "supposed" to go to this school anymore or were these stomach aches "a sign" that it was time to move on?

My monkey mind latched onto this one and held on for dear life. I was in a complete tailspin without even realizing it.

This quote brought me back from Crazytown.

My search for "the Truth" with a capital T was as futile as not doing anything at all would have been. And the answer lay, where it always seems to lie, in the present moment, in the knowing that comes with not-knowing, in the greater truth of infinite possibilities.  

How ironic then that this would be the week that I learn to access the Akashic Records and give my first reading? 

If you think the Universe doesn't have a sense of humor, I am here to tell you otherwise. 

All the time I was monkey-minding and hand-wringing the situation with my son, the Universe was calling me to even greater knowing that comes from not-knowing. It was a gift that helped me get through the week and one that I can't wait to share with the world. I don't know what form this work is going to take, but I am looking forward to all of the infinite possibilities.  

[If you are interested in an Akashic Records reading, send me an email and let's chat about the (infinite) possibilities!]

The Gift of Truth

"The greatest gift we give to anyone is our honesty..."  

--My friend Cindy

For the past 29 days, I have been participating in the 29-Day Giving Challenge. You can read all about my experience with the giving challenge by clicking here. 

The hardest gift to give - by far - was #27: The Gift of Truth. Here's the post I wrote about that gift:

For more than six months my son has been getting invited on playdates with another boy from his class. At first he wanted to go, but over time he began to say he didn't want to go. I tried to encourage him to go, thinking that perhaps he just needed time to get to know this boy in order to appreciate his virtues, but the more I encouraged, the less he wanted to go. 

Things continued to spiral downward with this kid asking for more and more play dates and my son becoming more and more insistent on NOT having play dates. We tried having them at our house (my son made it clear by his behavior that he did not want the other boy to be there and I felt bad), I tried going along to their house (my son played, but without enthusiasm). Finally, summer arrived and I was grateful for the chance to take a breather from this situation. 

But the first week of school this year it started again. Boy wants a play date with my son; my son does not want a play date with this boy. Boy insists. Son resists. I tried to put it off. "It's the first week of school," "We're busy," "Sorry can't today...." but the more I tried to put them off the more insistent both mom and boy became. 

I was beside myself. So torn between wanting to be a good member of my community and wanting to teach my son that he has the right to say "No," something I did not learn as a child. 

After receiving requests three days in a row I worried and worked over the problem all weekend long. Writing speeches about love and inclusiveness and making excuses and coming up with reasons. It was exhausting. I talked about it. I thought about it. I wrote about it. And finally I just had to do it: What I would tell anyone else to do. What I want my son to someday be able to do for himself. I spoke the truth with as much love as possible. 

I wrote the other mom an email and explained that my son just did not want to have a play date, that I was sorry if this was hurtful and that I hoped given time and space they could forge a friendship that worked for both of them. And then I hit send.

I don't know what is going to happen. I gave her the gift of truth. I hope she can receive it.

UPDATE: Less than five minutes after I sent the email I got an email back from this mother thanking me (with an exclamation point!) for telling her the truth. She was kind and compassionate, agreeing that this friendship just wasn't working for either of our boys and allowing that to be okay. 

All of the upset and worry and hand-wringing had been for nothing. My monkey mind got me again. Doh!

Circle Slash Santa Claus

"There's a precise moment when we reject contradiction. This moment of choice is the lie we will live by. What is dearest to us is often dearer to us than the truth."

--Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces

I have a confession to make: I hate Santa Claus.

Not the man himself, but the subterfuge, deception and confusion that go along with the myth.

This is the year that my kids have finally realized that there is no Santa Claus. And I am kind of relieved. I never wanted to do Santa in the first place.

From the time my older son was a toddler and first starting to hear about Santa Claus I told my husband that I didn't want to do the whole "Santa thing" because I didn't want to have to tell lies to my child.

I know this is going to push buttons for some people, calling  the perpetuation of the Santa myth "telling lies." I want you to know that I do not judge anyone for doing this, I just didn't want to do it myself.

For one thing, I am a terrible liar. I have about a million "tells." I pause, I look away, I punctuate my speech with "uhs" and "ums." I am sure my face lights up with a big neon sign that says, "LIAR!" I am just not good at telling untruths.

And I have made a right mess of this Santa business.

The first few years I did okay. A big Teddy Bear around year two was well-loved. The Polar Express train set in year four was a big hit. Then things kind of hit the skids.

Three years ago the boys wanted a Wii.

This was 2008. We were living on half of our previous income. We didn't know if my husband was going to have a job come the new year. Business had ground to a halt much earlier than usual and predictions for 2009 were grim.  We just could not afford to buy a Wii.

So I got online and found what I thought was the next best thing: Swing Zone Sports. It had the same games as the Wii (albeit with inferior graphics) and was on sale for $25.

I was so excited. The kids were going to get what they wanted and we didn't have to go into debt to pay for it.

The excitement lasted one day.

The kids were happy when they opened it and played it all day long. It was fun. It worked like the Wii. It was a win-win!

The next day my older son came to me with a confused look on his face, "Mommy, why didn't Santa bring us a real Wii?"

Shit!

My heart sank as I scrambled to come up with a plausible story. "Uh, well, um, huh? I guess-s-s....Santa must have run out. Lots of kids wanted a Wii this year and he must have just not had enough so he brought the next best thing. Swing Zone is fun isn't it?"

"Yes, but....I really wanted a Wii."

Double shit.

I apologized and said something about Santa doing the best he could and we moved on.

The next year things were a bit better for us financially, but we still needed to be careful around the holidays and we had started to fight the video game fight in a big, bad way.

Besides a Wii, of course, both boys really wanted a Nintendo DS. We gave each of them a bad habit challenge: if they broke their bad habit, they got a DS. Our older son met his challenge in 4 weeks, so we had to pony up and we became a DS household.

After about two weeks I was ready to throw that thing in the garbage.

Although it belonged to our older son, both boys got to play it and there were rules about how much time they had and who got to go first and when it could be played, etc. All of which caused more fighting and anger in our household than we had seen in a very long time.

So when Christmas rolled around again, I was not inclined to add another video game system to the mix.

As "luck" would have it, someone had given us an Xbox earlier that year that we had yet to be able to use (it had come with the wrong cables) so we decided that for Christmas this year we would get the Xbox working and get the kids a whole bunch of new games.

It went down pretty much the same way as it had the previous year. The Xbox was really cool for a few days and then the question came, "Mommy, why didn't Santa get us a Wii? I hate Santa. He never gets us what we want."

Triple shit!

I thought about it for a moment and then I decided I had to take one for the team and let Santa off the hook, so I said, "Honey, it's not Santa's fault. I told him not to bring a Wii this year because we already had an Xbox."

The look on his face was priceless. It is the exact look a child gets when told that their parent has gone behind their back to kill their dream. My son ran out of the room, crying and screaming, slammed his bedroom door and threw himself down on this bed to weep.

It cut me to the quick, but there was no backing out now. I had to stick to my story or kill Santa forever.

So I wiped his tears and soothed his hurt and apologized profusely for interfering in his relationship with Santa and we moved on.

Which is why it came as something of a relief when this year, a few weeks before Christmas he came to me and said, "Mom, does Santa really exist?"

I looked at him and I realized that I just did not have one more believable lie in me and I asked him, "Do you really want to know the truth?" And he said, "Yes." So I gave it to him straight.

He said, "I thought so, because we never got what we wanted. And anyway, last year I got out of bed and saw you and dad putting the presents under the tree so you didn't fool me."

This is the story he is telling anyone who will listen, and his younger brother has adopted it as well, since once the news was out there was no stopping it from spreading.

(I did ask them not to ruin it for kids they know who still believe, but I have the feeling that sometimes they just can't help themselves from spreading the word since in elementary school knowledge = power.)

I feel a little bit sad about the end of Santa at our house, although I am not quite sure what I am sad about. Am I sad that they no longer believe? Am I sad because I totally botched it? Or am I sad because I spread the untruth in the first place, against my gut feeling that it was not a good idea?

I am not against magic and wonder. I want my kids to have that and to have it in spades, but I am just not sure the whole Santa myth is the best way to give that to our children. The whole thing seems set up to wound and disappoint.

Most kids are never going to get everything they want so there is disappointment built-in. On top of that we tie the disappointment to their behavior - Santa would have brought you everything you wanted IF YOU WERE GOOD. Even though this is completely irrelevant in most cases. (I don't know of any parents who give presents based on behavior.)

Why not just tell the story of Saint Nicholas and his good deeds, or the birth of Christ and his life of service, and share the spirit of giving with our children in a way that does not commercialize or stigmatize or disappoint?

I am not sure what I am going to do this year. 

Part of me is tempted to hide all of their gifts, pretend not to get them any and then have Santa come through in the clutch with a bevy of gifts. 

Another part of me is tempted to throw in the towel on the whole Santa thing (no Santa photos, no Santa talk, no Santa books) and try and create our own version of Christmas that includes lots of love and a little bit of magic, but no untruths.

In any case, this year the kids are finally getting a Wii. I hope that feels at least a little bit magical (until the fighting starts).

The obscure we see eventually, the completely obvious takes longer.

Edward R. Murrow

"Truth without love is incomplete and will not convert the heart."

Father John Adams, Blessed Sacrament Church