The Connection Compass
Here is an example of a note I wrote to one of my kids, that increases my patience and deepens my perspective whenever I read it. You will find an explanation behind this exercise in your Week Four audio.
29.3.23
Every week you stay home from preschool for a day. We don’t plan much; we play, read, laugh, draw under trees and talk about the beauty of the smallest moments.
Lately I’ve been introducing you to different musical instruments, to see if any speak to you. So yesterday, on your day off while you were eating breakfast, you asked me to play some cello music on the speaker. I found a playlist “40 most beautiful cello classics”. When the first piece started to play, we were silent. We looked at each other while you were eating, and suddenly you put your food down and your arms up. I picked you up, and you put your face into my neck.
Things have been hard for you at pre-school lately; there have been times when you have felt quite alone. It kills me sometimes that I can’t be there every moment that you need me to hold you like I am right now. But you’d never guess: Because to let you know would be to imply that you do need me. And I don’t want that. I want you to find comfort in teachers and friends who love you. I want to take the comfort you find in my neck and I want you to find it in yourself. I know that will come through connection, deep love, and until you’re ready, through dependence. My neck will be yours until you let go.
Still both of us silent, I held you as we moved slowly to the music. The cello was like magic and we had no where else to be. After a couple minutes I sat down and you faced me on my lap.
“That was one of the best moments of my life, mama. Let’s make it never end.”
“Mine too. But it’s not gone - that moment is in your heart. And you know what you can do? When you’re at school and something is hard, or you feel lonely, you can take a piece of that moment to hold.”
Later that evening, as you do whenever Aba and I hug, you and Emi ran to sit between our feet. “Our little house! Our little house!” You both exclaimed. My hope is that this little house will make you feel so loved, so safe and so seen. Not so that you’ll always want to stay, but so that when you leave, you’ll always feel at home.