Finding a third way

what it means to choose

Partial Solar Eclipse on March 29, 2025

My true test of spiritual practices are the ones that help me navigate daily life with a little more grace, ease, and joy. I think a good practice works similarly to how an herbal tea dissolves its properties into water. We are the water that absorbs the composition and benefits with each repetition. Spiritual practices are training wheels to guide us toward embodiment.

The spiritual practices that have lasting power for me are the ones that have supported my transformation—so that the actions I take in daily life, especially in messy, painful, or hard moments, come from that muscle memory. The muscle memory is the energetic address I have visited consistently, repeatedly in my body with each meditation, each practice.

Parenting and grief, both separately and synergistically in combination, are the places that continue to show me how I am able to embody my spiritual practices. And by embody I mean meet life in the sweet spot of sturdy and fluid, trusting not only my own inner guidance but also in the intelligence and Divinity of life force energy present in me and in the natural world. Sturdy and fluid because my practices have helped create inner spaciousness that helps me hold polarity and be present.

Grief and parenting intersect in moments like attending my son’s science fair—knowing it will always and only be me, the solo parent, witnessing and celebrating his milestones. Aware of my presence, Andres’ absence. Feeling Andres close by ever present but not being able to experience his physical form. The moments when fluidity looks like a really good ugly cry. And when accessing a third way first meant reaching out to one of my most trusted people, someone who has witnessed my messy doubt and held compassionate space for my tears, sadness, confusion so I was not alone.

Parenting constantly requires me to choose one thing and communicate it—clearly, in rapid succession, endlessly, consistently, constantly. If you have ever been responsible for the well being of a small child, you are likely intimately familiar with how they need simple, clear, direct communication. I am someone who sees the big picture, all of the possibilities and does not measure things in terms of black and white.

One of the hardest polarities of parenthood for me has been supporting my son in exploring and trusting his inner guidance while also setting boundaries and limits. This is choosing in the moment clearly so my son’s eyes do not glass over as I explain all the possibilities and how I came to my decision.

Opening one door means closing another door. Life offers us countless moments where we have to settle on one thing, focus our energy on one thing. Because in real life we have to decide, one or the other, to make a choice. Because there are oh so many times when we literally can not do both.

Like staying up late on a school night means not getting enough sleep for the next day. Skipping lunch means lacking the focused energy to complete the day. Saying yes to something we do not want to do and feeling resentful as we do the thing we agreed to. And on and on it goes.

Recently at morning drop off for my son he announced he did not want to go to school right before we turned into the school parking lot and entered the drop off line. He explained why which made sense. And I had a busy day of appointments that would be challenging to reschedule. The first layer of my practices allowed me to stay calm and centered and say what matters most is how you feel, not whether you go to school or stay home (in the roughly 3-4 minutes available to me as we inch our way through drop off line).

I gently walk him through some qi gong practices that help, and he no longer wants to go home but does want me to walk him to school. Right at this point our car door is being opened by the school staff person who is trying to help him get out of the car. A split second of indecision—before telling her, “No, please close the door. I’ll walk him in.” It sounds so simple but those are the choices that are the hardest because they require split second thinking (especially for someone who is weighing every possible outcome of every possible decision). And sitting with the messy companions of confusion, uncertainty, and being deeply uncomfortable.

Because I want to honor my son’s feelings, keep an open heart, keep the drop off line moving. Which is a pretty big deal to the long line of cars behind waiting to drop their child off to start the day on time. But for me it is not simply honoring my son’s feelings but supporting him in honoring his own wisdom and guidance while also (and probably the most important for me) not pushing him to quickly get to the most convenient easy course of action for me and for the drop off line while bypassing his own voice and his own body wisdom.

And yet it’s these moments—when a choice feels important but can’t be deliberated—that remind me why I love Daoist inner alchemy so much. When I discovered them, over 17 years, I experienced a moment of feeling like I had come home, as if I was arriving at a predestined meeting spot and finding your beloved waiting for you.