How to live with your parents...again.

So you're back "home" again after living on another part of the globe, living in your own place, traveling around the world for a year or... whatever. After about one full day together, you start to realize that the parents you had idealized and missed so much while away, are the same ol' folks you left behind, just how they were when they raised you, doing the same things that annoy you and get under your skin. So how do you manage to live with them again now that you've tasted independence and had your own space? I am in the midst of this very situation, and I am treating it a) like an experiment, b) like a learning experience, c) like a practice in gratitude and d) a chance to practice all of the four agreements.
Let's start with a) like an experiment:
What I mean by this is that you need to be very scientific about your parents when they start to annoy you.
You can almost analyze them in your head like a specimen, remembering that you both share the same genes, and have shared for a large chunk of time, the same environment. A question of Nature vs. Nurture? Or Nature AND Nurture - whatever way you approach it, you can then see if you can see yourself in their annoying actions or see why you do the things you do that have been said to annoy others. For example, if your mom often plays the victim in conflicts, instead of judging or getting angry, step back out of your emotions and get objective; perhaps this is why you've always been the opposite of a victim - sometimes overbearing, strong, forceful and even aggressive, as a counteraction or reaction to the way you saw your mother allow herself to be victimized and play the victim. I am learning a lot about myself by trying to be analytical about my parents instead of letting my emotions get all bent out of shape when they "try to push my buttons" so to speak.

b) a learning experience - again, allow yourself to learn through your experiments and observations about what has shaped YOU -what characteristics and habits have you picked up from your parents (or as naturalists would argue, INHERITED from your parents) that you can allow yourself to be aware of and choose to change or grow from?

c) a practice in gratitude - if you have parents who are anything like mine - loving, accommodating, generous, and accepting, then you have a LOT to be grateful for. Come to think of it, if you HAVE both of your parents, that right there is something to be thankful for everyday. Many have lost their parents to cancer or heart disease or rarely see them because of divorce. Try to think of the GOOD things about them every day instead of dwelling on the things that "get to you" about them. Let them know the things you love about them - be specific - everyone needs praise, even parents^^.

d) a chance to practice the four agreements - Ahhh, well! The Four Agreements of ancient Toltec Wisdom that can change your life if applied whole-heartedly. These require a whole blog entry to themselves, but for now let me just name them briefly: (in no particular order)
1) Always do your best. 2) Don't make assumptions. 3) Be impeccable with your word. 4) Don't take anything personally.
Living with your parents allows you to put ALL of these into practice, just as everyday life does, but you can make a special effort with your parents since you owe your life to them;o)
Each day, do your best. Only you know what your best is or how to measure it - it's very subjective - but at the end of each day think how great and regret free you'd feel if you could look back on the day and honestly say you did your best!?
Don't make assumptions about what your parents are "trying to say" or what certain things they do mean - have the courage to ask and communicate clearly and openly so that you don't misconstrue their actions and cause misunderstandings. This can eliminate a lot of conflict.
Be impeccable with your word. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Be clear. Be gentle. Think before you speak. Remember that your words have immense power to either make or break your relationships with people. Let them be a force of unity in this world and with your parents.
Don't take anything personally. Remember that your parents are people too, just older people, but they've been where you've been and that MOST of their words and actions - 99.9% are about what's going on for THEM, inside of THEM and are not a direct attack on you.

This is what I am learning, how I am managing to have a great time while at home for 3 months. I hope it helps you too!

Missionary Kid continued...

When I was growing up, there hung in my family's kichen a frame,
with 8 photos inside of it.
The eight photos were of families in India who we were supporting
so that they could buy a goat or go to school or have enough food
so that they were well nourished. One in particular stands out in
my mind - a photo of a boy named Jarin Kumar, who had braces
on his legs and used crutches to walk.
We would get letters from Jerin every few moths, telling how we
were helping him go to school and get the medication he needed.
These photos hung above our kitchen table and we would remember
the families in a prayer, each time we sat down to eat.
This had a lasting impact on me and I am proud of my parents
for setting this example for our family. It brought the world and
some less fortunate people into our home, into our lives, and
was a daily reminder to be grateful for all that we had.

Her name is UA check out her amazing voice

Sharing stories

Just a brief disclaimer - although perhaps blogs don't need 'em,
after all, what is a blog for but to write about yourself and your
experiences?
Anyways, I wanted to state my intention for writing these stories
about my life. I have lived a normal life, I'm not famous, nor
have I saved money to build a well in Africa, however whenever
I tell people stories about things I've seen and done or people
I've known, experiences I've had, places I've travelled, I hear over
and over "You're a great story teller! Why don't you write these
stories down?" So I am doing it! I am trying to ignore the
voice of my super-ego shouting "you're so full of yourself
thinking people want to read about your life" and just
WRITING, getting it out, sharing about my life, and hoping that
it adds a bit of extra colour and life to the world.
Feel free to post comments, and if you have a blog, let me know
and I'll link to it!

Missionary Kid

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a missionary.
And a comedian, artist, actress and singer, but on
and off for most of my childhood, I wanted to be a missionary.
Not the kind that converts people, no, the kind that clothes,
heals and hugs kids in Africa and India, you know, like in the
gutters of Calcutta, really in there with them.
I also had aspirations of being a saint due to being read stories
of the saints for bedtime stories from a ridiculously early age
(those stories are SCARY!) But I digress... back to wanting to be
a missionary.
My parents had weird friends, like people from mental hospitals
who hitch-hiked naked and owned bulldogs and who had no other
friends BUT my parents - friends who would spend what seemed
like hours meticulously picking the pulp off of their tongues
if dad forgot to buy the pulp-free orange juice.
Among their weird friends was a missionary family. The mom,
the dad and all the kids (about 4), were ALL missionaries in Africa.
They visited us once and did a slide show on our living room wall
about their work and life in Africa. I was maybe 6 or 7 at the time,
and being a very visual child, the slides I saw that day became
permanently etched onto my memory. There were gross
slides of the dad missionary doing operations on
African people's eyes, probing around in their fleshy tear ducts
- I was horrified but couldn't look away.
He was a surgeon, helping to prevent blindness and eye-diseases around
different countries in Africa. Imagine taking that in when you're 6!
All the missionary kids were strikingly blond with blue eyes. There
were slides of these really really white kids playing with these really
really black kids and they were some of the most amazing, beautiful
and unbelievable images I had ever seen.
I remember after the slide show, trying to play with the missionary kids
but not really being able to do or say much except stare at them in awe.
To me, they were like little movie stars I'd just seen slides of playing in
Africa, and now they were playing in my bedroom! Or maybe it was more
that they were like little angels or saints, but I was scared to move or talk
around them for fear of revealing my utter humanity and sinfulness.

This experience - having the blond missionary family in my living room -
was so bizarre and fascinating that somehow, soon afterwards I think I
tried to block it from my memory, or perhaps i decided I'd dreamt it.
But I knew I hadn't because every now and again we'd get a family
Christmas photo from them, all smiling and blond and in Africa.
Sometimes when I would pass the photo of them magnetized to our fridge,
I'd get this queasy feeling - the way you might feel when you
imagine your parents having sex. You know it must really happen -
you are physical proof, as is the picture of the missionary
family stuck to our fridge - but there's something impossible and bizarre about
it because it is not part of your living reality. It's weird to the point that it
creeps you out.

But on some deep level this family really inspired me.
There are a few other interesting things that lead me to want to be a missionary...
to be continued...