‘Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?’
(Glinda, the Good Witch of the North)
‘I’m not a witch at all.
I’m Dorothy Gale from Kansas.’ (Dorothy)
–The Wizard of Oz
I lost it with my seven-year-old daughter yesterday. It was just one of those moments that happen quicker than thought, and before I knew it my anger had a hold of me. I don’t have an issue with my anger or with my children sometimes experiencing it, but this time I could feel that my reaction was inappropriately overblown. I can always tell when I cross that fragile emotional line with the ones I love — and no matter how I try to justify it, deep down inside I know.
Last night I went into her bedroom after she fell asleep and was overwhelmed by the tenderness I felt towards her. Her soft breathing, Murphy the bear tucked tightly in her arms, the dimpled fingers and a curled lock gently falling over her round cheek — the sight of her pulled hard at my insides as I reflected on my unskilfulness earlier that day. I whispered to her how sorry I was and after tucking her in, walked out of her room vowing to do it differently in the future.
As parents we forge our way forward with our hearts. Our hearts gently but clearly tell us if we are off track, if we’ve made a mistake, if we have overstepped the bounds or if there is another direction to go. The beauty of being human is that we have the ability to be deeply intimate with another — whether it is our children, our family, a partner, even another species. We enter the domain of the heart, and whether we realise it or not, we agree to heed its instruction.
Like a heat seeking device, it consistently signals (usually through pain or discomfort) when we are off the mark. Should we choose to ignore those signals, life can become pretty painful. This is how human evolution happens and what makes us different from the rest of life on the planet. We have a heart that drives us forward, and ultimately keeps us on track.
The heart’s domain is no place for the mind, but to make sense of this journey we often resort to the mind’s reliable structures and formulas to help us map our way. This can often be a good thing and results in social, cultural and political policies that serve the new frontiers of human evolution. The World Health Organisation’s new policy that supports full-term breastfeeding of two years and beyond, and Sweden’s legislation against corporal punishment of children (along with 14 others countries) are two cases in point. Additionally there are dozens of progressive initiatives bearing manifestos, philosophies and mission statements reflective of our newfound understanding of children’s needs. It is exciting and empowering to witness the unfolding of humanity’s collective heart. We are making huge evolutionary gains over time. A brief look at the history of violence over the ages shows clearly that we are indeed moving forward. And as we can see, the journey has nothing to do with the Hallmark version of sentimentalism and heart-centred cliché. Rather, it is robust, spirited and intelligent.
The trouble starts when, out of fear, such structures and formulas are followed in lieu of the heart. Dogma is born. We’ve all seen it — when a local attachment parenting support group alienates the mother who walks in with a pacifier, when a pregnancy support group at the local community centre turns a cold shoulder to the couple who chose a scheduled c-section or when an alternative school alienates parents because they don’t ‘know the philosophy’. In the world of natural parenting, with all its brilliant progressive ideals, there can be dogma by the bucket load! Every theory, though presented with the best intention, can become a new religion.
Natural parenting dogma is where, in the name of love, a lot of separation takes place. Are you a good witch or a bad witch? Are you playing by the rules or not? If you’re a bad witch, how bad are you? Maybe you’re really really bad in which case you are excluded from the club. You are the bad apple. Such is the language of dogma. Dogma, just like every other move made away from the heart, indicates itself by the pain of separation that results.
But the tricky thing about dogma is that it pretends to be ‘of the heart’ by upholding the values of the heart. That’s why dogma is so hard to recognise when we are enmeshed in it, and equally hard to move away from. Dogma tricks us that life can be lived by a formula, and that if we stick to that formula, we can avoid making mistakes and therefore the often uncomfortable honing device of the heart. It promises to protect us from feeling lost and insecure. It gives us a false sense of security, by pulling in others to follow that formula also. With dogma, it seems, we need never feel alone and need never face the consequences of our mistakes. We can safely travel in the herd and never be excluded. We then trade our evolution for something dead.
Dogma is easily spotted by the good / bad language that accompanies it, along with the implications of sin, wrong-doing and evil (thanks to thousands of years of religious enculturation). And as long as we believe in sin, then dogma has us by the tail, threatening us to obey or else we will be cast out of the garden.
We think of sin as some horrible evil, connected with endless guilt, eternal damnation and a host of other associations that are equally unpalatable. Interestingly, the word sin means nothing of the sort. Sin comes from the Greek word hamartia meaning literally, missing the mark. And one of the most commonly mistranslated Hebrew words is chait, which is usually translated as ‘sin’ often with the same misunderstanding. In both cases, the context is important to determining the meaning. In some texts it implies missing one’s potential in that moment, and in others, it is about missing the goal or destination. Either way, sin is nothing to fear, and everything to respect and trust because it shows us how to hone our skills to move forward. Imagine the implications over the ages if the word had always been translated correctly; no more guilt, and a lot more trust in our own personal process!
With parenting, because we want to be the best parents possible, we can easily fall into the guilt trap, not wanting to make a mistake, making us easy prey to dogma. And we might find ourselves on the serving end of dogma too — using our wisdom and insights to criticise and separate from those who might not fall in line with them. But if you think about it, such separation is hardly a tempting invitation to those who we are inviting into the natural parenting world. Why would they want to join? What’s so good about it when everyone’s so inflexible?
But when dogma is seen for what it is, the mind’s feeble attempt to claim for itself the heart’s domain — just a missed mark — then we are free again to be the living embodiment of transformation. It requires that we let go of formulas, even the best ones, and be willing to free fall, all alone, into the next moment. Maybe it will hurt, maybe we will make a mistake, or maybe we will succeed — for this moment. And then it is on to the next, because we recognise that there is no arrival, there is no stopping point. There is only the free fall.
Parenting really makes us face the free fall. We have to be willing to abide there, in all its scariness and isolation, while simultaneously being open to wisdom from outside — but ultimately walking our own parenting walk with our own values, our own way — and trusting that our hearts are big enough to see us and our children through. When we rely on formulas, or put the dogma down on top of our heads, we are instantly compromised, not to mention unhappy.
It is interesting to note that the alternative movement often finds itself continually splintered by its own dogma. The camps seem to multiply by the minute, so much that I begin to wonder how on earth such a worthwhile movement will get anything accomplished. It never seems to happen in mainstream. Just down the road, a wonderfully innovative self-sustaining, organic permaculture farm is being heavily criticised by some local environmentalists. The crime? They are using a wind turbine to power the farm instead of the usual fossil fuel option. They fear the turbine will be noisy, and will look ugly. Hmmm.
But perhaps the splintering serves as its very own homing device, constantly testing and refining all those who play in its arena. I know that it works that way on me and in my personal life and business when I am faced with similar dogmatism as the permaculture farm down the road. When seen in this way, even the dogma and its resultant splintering is nothing to fear. In fact, to have dogma about dogma is even too much! Indeed, it seems, the heart is having its way with us and perhaps we can just relax and enjoy the ride. Thank God.
So what do we do with all our values and ethics as conscious parents? What do we do with our stacks books of how to parent non-violently, birth our children blissfully at home, feed them with the best organic vegetables and tandem breastfeed our twins? We take what our heart says ‘yes’ to, we leave what it says ‘no’ to, and we listen when it tell us we are off track. And we don’t stop there because collectively we have only just begun. We continue to move and grow and be open to the next learning opportunity that comes along no matter how much it might hurt.
And we remember, above all, that there is no sin that dogma can protect us from. That we are free to make mistakes, in fact we are obliged to make mistakes on behalf of our species so that we may evolve.
Are you a good witch or a bad witch? You’re neither. You’re perfect, perfectly playing your part in the great collective story of mankind, the story of the heart. You can relax, there is nothing to do or be. The heart will have its way.