My Daughter, My Teacher

February 13, 2024

My Daughter, My Teacher

By Amba Gale

Four Sundays ago, I came to my office early, before my family was awake. 

Seeing my desk cluttered with papers, I passed right by the meditation corner where, every morning, I meditate, write poetry, or frequently read Mark Nepo’s Book of Awakening before tackling anything.

I saw all the papers on the desk just begging to be sorted into notes that, if touched one by one and placed on a calendar, or a list, or committed to, would provide me with clear openings for action for my life. 

Since having gone to Indonesia for the month of November and having used December for some necessary inner work, on behalf of creating some new space for myself to complete a portion of my past that was incomplete and had gotten triggered, I am just now “catching up.”

I started touching, arranging, and re-arranging the papers one by one into some sort of recognizable form that I could act upon when Cruz, our daughter’s Great Black German Shepherd, bounded in to say hello. Exuberantly. (My daughter visits us a few times a month from her home across the Puget Sound, and she was here last weekend.)

Next came my daughter, who always has, and in different ways, through my life, been my teacher.

We hugged. We said good morning. She asked me if I needed anything. I said, “No—look!” And pointed to my papers. Upon doing that, I easily and unconsciously put myself into a state of overwhelm, feeling sorry for myself, obligated, and victimized by all I “had to do. “

I told her I hadn’t even meditated yet as the assorted pages on my desk were so overwhelming. 

Of course, my daughter, who is no dummy, recognized this immediately.

She pointed to my meditation chair and said, “Well, you should probably do your meditation, and then you won’t be so overwhelmed!”

I was shocked.

I came to a full stop after that.

Then, I remembered Mahatma Gandhi said, “I have so much to accomplish today that I must meditate for two hours rather than one.”

Sometimes, it’s time to stop.

Sometimes, it’s time to retreat.

Sometimes, it’s time to meditate.

Sometimes, it’s time to breathe. Deeply.

Sometimes, it’s time to go into silence, where new thinking can rise to the surface, thinking that clarifies and allows us to recognize new possibilities.

Sometimes, it’s time to “let our souls catch up”, as Noirin ni Riain, our Irish Celtic Singer and Guide, used to say at the beginning of the “Journey of the Soul” – or, in Irish, “Turas D’Anam,” that my husband and I participated in, twice, in Ireland.

I, myself, will be going into retreat for the month of February as I lead, and participate in, The Joy of Being, a conversation that allows for a profound and resourceful re-design and reimagination of our lives, where we can hear the new future calling us, and our heart is clear enough to follow.

I look forward to re-emerging in March and being in touch with you, once again contributing to you through my writing. The appearance of the Blog will look somewhat different upon the re-emergence of my writing voice into your world.

Look for me in early March; I’ll be with you then!

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