Presence & Self-Compassion
A few months back, I wrote about the importance of being present with your children.
Recently, I've found myself relying on public transport and others to help look after my children. On one particular day, I was in my usual rush to catch a bus with Oz. Interestingly, Oz wasn't in any rush. Instead, he was more interested in noticing details around us that I had never really paid attention to before. Here's how our conversation unfolded that morning:
Oz pointed out, "Look mama, a castle.”
I replied, "Ah, I can see that.”
It wasn't actually a castle; he was referring to a gate known as 'Bargate'.
Lacking any background knowledge about this structure, I simply acknowledged Oz's observation. What truly surprised me was what Oz said next.
He continued, "It’s got lions on top of it.”
I responded, "Err yeah, you're right, one lion on each side of the gate.”
In that moment, I was struck by a realisation. Despite having lived in this city for several years and walked past that gate numerous times, the discovery of the lion stonework was new to me. I felt a sensation I can only describe as something akin to embarrassment. It reminded me of how often I’m focused on tasks rather than observing my surroundings.
Reflecting later that day, I was reminded of my previous post on presence. Children explore the world with fresh eyes, noticing things we adults often overlook. Oz had inadvertently invited me into a moment of connection. Regrettably, I missed the opportunity until much later, when the chance to engage in a meaningful dialogue had passed. In hindsight, this could have been a gateway to discussions about art, craftsmanship, and history.
Now, I eagerly anticipate walking past Bargate again, ready to delve into a conversation about those stone lions with Oz in the lead. After all, the curiosity of a child is boundless!
I realised, after processing the earlier moment, that my embarrassment was rooted in knowing the importance of presence and missing a cue for connection. I chose not to dwell in guilt and self-blame, commonly known as 'beating ourselves down'. Instead, I focused on practicing self-compassion using Dr. Kristin Neff’s three core components: self-kindness, common humanity, and mindfulness.
If a friend shared a similar story, I'd offer patience, empathy, and gentleness. I decided to extend the same kindness to myself, encouraging a return to Bargate for a richer future conversation. Reminding myself of our shared human imperfection helps me connect and avoid isolating in destructive thoughts like 'this makes me an absent parent'. Lastly, I practiced mindfulness, acknowledging my sadness over missing a connection moment. I envision a triangular relationship between these components, where mindfulness aligns with self-kindness and both relate to our shared humanity, particularly among parents.