I'll meet you there.

One of the best pieces of advice I received when I was a new parent was: "You have to meet your child where he's at, not where you want him to be." A few months later, I read this piece when our friends' daughter was diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder. The advice and essay resonated deeply, striking chords of universal truth that went well beyond the realm of parenting.

In the documentary, The Wisdom of Trauma with Dr. Gabor Maté, which we're discussing in our Blue Light Discussion next week, I was reminded of the advice I received all those years ago when we're introduced to Joey Carter, a beautiful poet and recovering addict. Joey recalls Maté picking him up off the street, providing him with a room in a hospital, and "as much morphine as was in his pocket." The gestures of comfort and acceptance sparked Carter's capacity to heal. Maté claims that when we meet people where they are and treat them like human beings, we open up the possibility for transformation.

When a loved one is suffering (or causing us to suffer), it is natural to want to mitigate their pain and/or our own, but too often this translates to us trying to deny or fix/change them or their situation. The frenetic "denying" and "fixing" only depletes us and our loved ones. When Maté accepts Carter's need for morphine in the present moment rather than trying to take away what feels like his lifeline, he respects Carter's humanity and dignity, he affirms his pain and suffering, and he retains humility with his helping hand. His humble generosity bypasses the feelings of shame, loneliness, and worthlessness that keep Carter in the throes of addiction. In the language of recovery, we call Maté's act "detaching with love."

Imagine a world where we could meet dis-ease, suffering, or pain (big and small) with a tender heart, a curious mind, and a helpful hand. Imagine if we could detach from our fixed ideas about a right or wrong way to be. Although we are compassionate beings, we are judgmental too, not great at minding our own business, especially with family, friends and foes. We need our capacity to judge to survive, discern, and thrive, but it would serve us well to hone and harness our judging minds--to exercise our brains not to default to judgement in uncertain, uncomfortable or unknown terrain.

Every day, I witness Pip and Phoebe's pains and struggles; it is a daily challenge to validate their pain and resist any impulse to argue their pain away. How easy it is for me to assume that as the older child, Pip "should know better", or that Phoebe should dress like me or have hair like mine. How hard it is, when they have tears streaming down their sweet faces and share with me that they felt ganged up on at the family dinner table, not to say, "no, no, no, that's not what happened." Again and again, I witness my children fight with one another; as they tell their versions of what happened, there is no space for their sibling's experience. Again and again, I remind them their sibling's experience is as valid as their own.

Imagine a world where we can bear witness to our fellow human beings' suffering and pain, especially those we are intimately connected to or have been charged with their care, without judgement or personal agendas. Imagine a world where we could meet ourselves where we're at without judgment or a fixing mind. Imagine accepting yourself fully and completely--wholly and entirely, right now. What if we said to our loved ones and ourselves in times of pain: I see you. I hear you. I love you. And if appropriate, how can I help you?

As always, thank you for reading,
Georgia

P.S. In case you missed the memo, there are no LIVE classes this August! It's time to rest. Classes will resume in September.