It’s supposed to be Yin/Yang. I feel like my life is Yang/Yin/Yang. There’s a whole lotta Yang with a little Yin thrown in sometimes. Yin and Yang being abstract concepts, I’ll offer my own interpretation here. I have always learned that Yin is the softer, more feminine, receptive and passive side of experience. Some say it is darker. Yang is the active, strong, masculine and productive side.
To me, meditation feels more Yin and prayer feels more Yang. When I pray, I talk to God, often out loud. When I meditate (far less often these days) I am quiet and still.
With my two young sons and my boisterous husband, I feel like I am constantly surrounded by the Yang element. So far, I am also an aunt to boys only. I grew up with sisters. Fortunately one of them is pregnant with a girl! Until I was 15, I saw my sisters part time since they have a different Mom. When I was not at their house, I was living with my Mom. I had my own prissy little room. I daydreamed a lot. I spent time by myself. My life was more Yin than Yang. When I was with my sisters, we were active and playful…but we were girls.
This past weekend one of my sisters visited me (the unmarried one). She arrived with her little white Maltese dog. She stayed to help our family celebrate my son’s third birthday and Father’s Day. With all of the Yang that surrounds me, I was very grateful to have that extra Yin thrown into the mix! Interspersed with the excited squeals of boys running up and down the house and yard, the excitement of a kid’s party, the presence of my two year old nephews—I got to enjoy talking with my sister about hair, clothes, shoes, men from a woman’s perspective, memories of our teen years and the crushes we had then…it seemed magical. We did yoga in the living room, oblivious to the shouts of my sons. We sat on a blanket outside drinking rosé and listening to women folk artists sing about love. Some of that may sound active to you, but to me it was blissfully Yin.
This week I am back to my familiar Yang fest. Just today, I took my boys out for lunch at the local diner. It wasn’t much of a lunch for me. Just after we sat down, my youngest asked me in a loud, screechy voice, “Mommy, do you have a tiny penis?” Of course my other son found that riotously funny and laughed his new hearty, guttural laugh that he uses to impress his friends. The remainder of the lunch I heard a number of loud penis jokes and was repeatedly asked why I do not have a penis and told that I must have a very tiny one. Of course, the table was a drum and when they weren’t talking about genitalia they were banging on the table with the toy cars they brought inside. When I took those away, they used their forks. When I took those away… you get the picture.
I know they love me, these males who share my home. They can be sweet. The little ones are affectionate. But all three of them are loud. Their humor doesn’t always suit me. And while 90% of the time it’s funny to see them running circles around my bed with my underwear on their heads and dragging my sundress behind them—10% of the time I really wish they had vaginas. Then in a few years we could really share the dresses…but probably not the underwear.
I’d like more Yin, please.
No comments:
Post a Comment