Yoga and Becoming a Father
If we fail to recognize the ways we jump out of the moment we’re in, we’ll fail to access the moments that make our life.
Everyone told me that meeting your child for the first time would be indescribable. I can indeed confirm. I can’t accurately describe that experience. Not yet. My wife labored for hours to produce our little girl, which required a will and strength I’ve yet to approach in my life. I can’t describe her experience either. I can offer only how yoga practice, learning, and teaching prepared me for that labor and the first month of my daughter’s life.
How has the yoga toolkit prepared me for fatherhood?
Yoga taught me to stay present and pay attention. Making small talk with the nurses and midwife as we waited for active labor to start, I learned that many dads disengage from the labor process. Some watch TV and scroll their phones or may even coach from the couch as the labor team holds and coaches mom. They told me stories of some dads eating their lunch during labor and of a couple dudes bringing their Xbox to play games. (I’ve come to learn how little we expect from fathers. Another topic for another day)
I recall saying to our midwife—who was excellent as a coach and professional— that so many men miss this experience, the experience of seeing their child born and more interestingly for me seeing their partner meet her finest hour. Holding my daughter the next morning, I was struck with a moment of deep presence. We’ve all been struck with that moment of, “Holy shit. I’m alive right now. This is intense.” It manifests differently depending on the situation. It could be holding your baby for the first time, it could be a job interview, or it could be a tragic event. What’s for certain is that the present moment will intrude into your life at some point. You will be struck with, “Wow, it’s now,” with our without being prepared for it. Yoga has trained me to sit in that moment.
The present moment fades quickly, and we often look for something to distract us from it. We allow it to fade and we work to distract ourselves because it’s intense. The intensity of present moment awareness evokes a feeling we all unconsciously wish to avoid: this won’t last. That fear of the things we love falling away and dying encourages us to become distracted. So we hide from now. We tuck it away and try to find happiness in jokes, entertainment, and other pleasures. We search for these pleasures as a way of saying, “Life is good.” We miss the truth of the present moment: it is now, and I can find peace here. But if we haven’t trained our mind to stay in the pocket, we’ll jump out and scramble to find something that distracts us from the intensity that reminds us that we will lose everything we love.
It’s dark, but it’s true. My daughter and I will be parted by death. There’s no way around that. But the only true way to find peace in that truth is to accept it, avoid hiding from it. That’s what yoga has given me.
Often when I’m teaching meditation, I cue my students in the final minutes of a session to let their mind wander. “Let go of trying to meditate, and follow the thoughts that pop up… Notice where your mind tends to go when you let it go where it wants.” Letting your mind wander like this can show you a few things: 1) you tend to ruminate on things that worry you, 2) you tend to distract yourself by seeking pleasurable memories or future plans, 3) you’re too busy and try to effectively organize a perfect to do list when meditating. This is what we do. If we fail to recognize the ways we jump out of the moment we’re in, we’ll fail to access the moments that make our life. Presence will intrude on your life, and if you’re not prepared for that, you’ll hide from it. Hiding will disable you from acting to make a bad situation better, and it will disengage you from something as transcendent and beautiful as the birth of your child.
The world needs you here, in this moment. The people, the situation, the problem, the triumph, we need you to be engaged, present, and operating with a clear mind. Yoga gave that to me and my wife. We’ll see if our daughter can pick that up, too.
We miss the truth of the present moment: it is now, and I can find peace here.