This is such an inspiring piece, Tamy. I'm truly humbled by the learnings you pulled out of this very painful experience. They've opened my eyes to some things in my life, too. For that I thank you. 🙏 I wish you so much strength and love on your ongoing journey through this experience. 🩷
Dear Soleil, your words warm my heart. Thank you for reading and feeling my share. And mostly, thank you for opening your eyes to something new within.
I receive your well wishes open-heartedly. Glad you’re here on my journey. 💙✨🥰
this brings a wholeness to the first part. there is so much wisdom around love, motherhood and life in here that there is nothing i can write here to do it justice.
i was absolutely in love with "i no longer live in the wound. i live in the wisdom that came from it" - mamma mia, that hits like a freight train.
and not only that one, but the whole piece, it carries soul-level presence. these words have you in them. you can feel it when you read it.
you are a phoenix, Tamy. 🐦🔥 (and i was very happy to see there is a phoenix emoji)
Tamy, so well written. You are strong, you are a warrior for your soul snd what you love. I too have learned that the things I want most are not always what I get…but maybe some day I can have them and for now as you said, what are these things telling us? We can be patient and kind and love in different ways. Namaste.
I happened to reread Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha recently and, as a parent, the ending resonated with me so much more now: having learned to let go of all other worldly desires in his lifelong search for enlightenment, Siddhartha’s last and MOST AGONIZING lesson was letting go of his longing for his son.
“How could I part with him?" Siddhartha said quietly, ashamed. "Give me some more time, my dear! See, I'm fighting for him, I'm seeking to win his heart, with love and with friendly patience I intent to capture it…”
His wise friend Vasudeva replied: “But aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him…?Don't you shackle him with your love? Don't you make him feel inferior every day, and don't you make it even harder on him with your kindness and patience? Don't you force him, the arrogant and pampered boy, to live in a hut with two old banana-eaters, to whom even rice is a delicacy, whose thoughts can't be his, whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his?…”
One day, the boy lashed out at Siddhartha: “You want me to become like you, just as devout…But I, listen up, just to make you suffer, I rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer, and go to hell, than to become like you! I hate you…” He stole Siddhartha’s boat and money and ran away.
"I must follow him," said Siddhartha, who had been shivering with grief… "A child can't go through the forest all alone. He'll perish…”
…But he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. Nevertheless, Siddhartha ran without stopping…just to satisfy his desire, just to perhaps see him one more time…
For a long time, the wound continued to burn. Many a traveller Siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was accompanied by a son or a daughter, and he saw none of them without envying him, without thinking: "So many, so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes--why don't I? Even bad people, even thieves and robbers have children and love them, and are being loved by them, all except for me."
…longingly and bitterly Siddhartha thought of his son, nurtured his love and tenderness in his heart, allowed the pain to gnaw at him, committed all foolish acts of love. Not by itself, this flame would go out.
…And one day, when the wound burned violently, Siddhartha ferried across the river, driven by a yearning, got off the boat and was willing to go to the city and to look for his son. The river flowed softly and quietly, it was the dry season, but its voice sounded strange: it laughed!
…He listened… and he remembered how he, a long time ago, as a young man, had forced his father to let him go to the penitents, how he had bid his farewell to him, how he had gone and had never come back. Had his father not also suffered the same pain for him, which he now suffered for his son? Had his father not long since died, alone, without having seen his son again? Did he not have to expect the same fate for himself? Was it not a comedy, a strange and stupid matter, this repetition, this running around in a fateful circle?”
This is so full of golden moments Tamy. Thank you. Especially the bit about stopping asking why and starting to listen to what it was telling you. I stayed in the grief of my husbands death for so long because i kept railing about ‘why?’ Not helpful. The whole both pieces I have found so inspiring.
And thank you for receiving some of the messages and looking at your own life and how you are living INTO THE PAIN.
The ‘why’ can keep us stuck for a long time. Not asking ‘why’ requires some trust in the unfolding of the Universe. Feels like you’re on the cusp of a fresh way of engaging with your pain/suffering.🙏
Would love for you to join me in my new intimate space C.O.R.E. Circle of Radiant Expansion, where we dive deeper into all of this in a wonderfully interactive group (of whoever shows up).
Here’s some more info in case you feel curious or inspired to join. Next meet-up is Sunday May 4 at 3pm EST. 🤗✨🌺
I loved how you wrote about motherhood. It’s a breath of fresh air. I feel the same way and yet I didn’t m know anyone else who felt the same. I liked this part:
“What I didn’t know was that mothering my five kids would be my wildest, most humbling spiritual teaching - a full contact sport in awakening. It’s like living in a monastery, if monasteries were loud, sticky, and full of tiny humans demanding snacks while teaching you patience, presence, and the art of surrender.”
I have diagnosed CPTSD and parenting though the kid screams have been some of the most reckoning experiences—facing my own inner child!
Thank you so much, @Alice Wild for reading and reflecting back your feelings of this piece. I can only imagine how difficult it is to parent with CPTSD. It’s hard enough without it. I feel for you. I hope you are finding the support you need.
And, bc of my HSP sensitivities, I also carry my amazing ear plugs everywhere I go ! 😅
This is such an inspiring piece, Tamy. I'm truly humbled by the learnings you pulled out of this very painful experience. They've opened my eyes to some things in my life, too. For that I thank you. 🙏 I wish you so much strength and love on your ongoing journey through this experience. 🩷
Dear Soleil, your words warm my heart. Thank you for reading and feeling my share. And mostly, thank you for opening your eyes to something new within.
I receive your well wishes open-heartedly. Glad you’re here on my journey. 💙✨🥰
this brings a wholeness to the first part. there is so much wisdom around love, motherhood and life in here that there is nothing i can write here to do it justice.
i was absolutely in love with "i no longer live in the wound. i live in the wisdom that came from it" - mamma mia, that hits like a freight train.
and not only that one, but the whole piece, it carries soul-level presence. these words have you in them. you can feel it when you read it.
you are a phoenix, Tamy. 🐦🔥 (and i was very happy to see there is a phoenix emoji)
grateful to be here on the journey with you.
Thank you for seeing me and joining me on the journey @Oliver N Mark
Phoenix Rising🐦🔥🐦🔥🐦🔥
Tamy, so well written. You are strong, you are a warrior for your soul snd what you love. I too have learned that the things I want most are not always what I get…but maybe some day I can have them and for now as you said, what are these things telling us? We can be patient and kind and love in different ways. Namaste.
Thank you for reading, Alex. ✨🥰
I happened to reread Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha recently and, as a parent, the ending resonated with me so much more now: having learned to let go of all other worldly desires in his lifelong search for enlightenment, Siddhartha’s last and MOST AGONIZING lesson was letting go of his longing for his son.
“How could I part with him?" Siddhartha said quietly, ashamed. "Give me some more time, my dear! See, I'm fighting for him, I'm seeking to win his heart, with love and with friendly patience I intent to capture it…”
His wise friend Vasudeva replied: “But aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him…?Don't you shackle him with your love? Don't you make him feel inferior every day, and don't you make it even harder on him with your kindness and patience? Don't you force him, the arrogant and pampered boy, to live in a hut with two old banana-eaters, to whom even rice is a delicacy, whose thoughts can't be his, whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his?…”
One day, the boy lashed out at Siddhartha: “You want me to become like you, just as devout…But I, listen up, just to make you suffer, I rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer, and go to hell, than to become like you! I hate you…” He stole Siddhartha’s boat and money and ran away.
"I must follow him," said Siddhartha, who had been shivering with grief… "A child can't go through the forest all alone. He'll perish…”
…But he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. Nevertheless, Siddhartha ran without stopping…just to satisfy his desire, just to perhaps see him one more time…
For a long time, the wound continued to burn. Many a traveller Siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was accompanied by a son or a daughter, and he saw none of them without envying him, without thinking: "So many, so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes--why don't I? Even bad people, even thieves and robbers have children and love them, and are being loved by them, all except for me."
…longingly and bitterly Siddhartha thought of his son, nurtured his love and tenderness in his heart, allowed the pain to gnaw at him, committed all foolish acts of love. Not by itself, this flame would go out.
…And one day, when the wound burned violently, Siddhartha ferried across the river, driven by a yearning, got off the boat and was willing to go to the city and to look for his son. The river flowed softly and quietly, it was the dry season, but its voice sounded strange: it laughed!
…He listened… and he remembered how he, a long time ago, as a young man, had forced his father to let him go to the penitents, how he had bid his farewell to him, how he had gone and had never come back. Had his father not also suffered the same pain for him, which he now suffered for his son? Had his father not long since died, alone, without having seen his son again? Did he not have to expect the same fate for himself? Was it not a comedy, a strange and stupid matter, this repetition, this running around in a fateful circle?”
Beautifully written 💕
Thank you so much for reading.
And thank you for your reminder of Siddharta and his path🙏✨🕉️💙
This is so full of golden moments Tamy. Thank you. Especially the bit about stopping asking why and starting to listen to what it was telling you. I stayed in the grief of my husbands death for so long because i kept railing about ‘why?’ Not helpful. The whole both pieces I have found so inspiring.
Thank you so much for reading, Jane.
And thank you for receiving some of the messages and looking at your own life and how you are living INTO THE PAIN.
The ‘why’ can keep us stuck for a long time. Not asking ‘why’ requires some trust in the unfolding of the Universe. Feels like you’re on the cusp of a fresh way of engaging with your pain/suffering.🙏
Would love for you to join me in my new intimate space C.O.R.E. Circle of Radiant Expansion, where we dive deeper into all of this in a wonderfully interactive group (of whoever shows up).
Here’s some more info in case you feel curious or inspired to join. Next meet-up is Sunday May 4 at 3pm EST. 🤗✨🌺
https://open.substack.com/pub/tamyfaierman/p/join-our-core-community-zoom-tonight?r=eg9g9&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=false
I loved how you wrote about motherhood. It’s a breath of fresh air. I feel the same way and yet I didn’t m know anyone else who felt the same. I liked this part:
“What I didn’t know was that mothering my five kids would be my wildest, most humbling spiritual teaching - a full contact sport in awakening. It’s like living in a monastery, if monasteries were loud, sticky, and full of tiny humans demanding snacks while teaching you patience, presence, and the art of surrender.”
I have diagnosed CPTSD and parenting though the kid screams have been some of the most reckoning experiences—facing my own inner child!
Beautiful post, Tamy!
Thank you so much, @Alice Wild for reading and reflecting back your feelings of this piece. I can only imagine how difficult it is to parent with CPTSD. It’s hard enough without it. I feel for you. I hope you are finding the support you need.
And, bc of my HSP sensitivities, I also carry my amazing ear plugs everywhere I go ! 😅
Ear plugs are such a good idea. I have noise canceling headphones and those are a life savor but look a bit silly in public 😂.
We’re getting by as far as support goes. I’ve got a decent therapist so sometimes it’s just one day at a time! ❤️🩹
🙏✨🤗
Loving this article, Tamy. Many thanks for the call out too!
Warm regards
My pleasure, Steven, thanks for reading and thank YOU for supporting me in this experience ! 🙏✨🤗
Thank you for being so honest about your journey.❤️ I know it will help some people who really need it.
Thank you for reading, Ian and for your kind words. 🙏✨💙