Enter Label: Meditation, Matrophagy, and the Long Middle March
Dear Companions,
Older parents often urge new ones to cherish parenthood—it goes by in a flash, they say. I read in The Atlantic this week that the best most parents can do is notice the precious moments and hold them like small gems to return to later, when life slows down.
But so much of the day-to-day is just—hard. I wake up like a beleaguered crane traipsing through the house, getting caught on door handles. I essentially have to ignore how I feel for a full hour. Yes, there are wonderful moments—like a spring sushi trip—but they can feel like fleeting interludes in the Long Middle March.
The idea of not having a second child is terrifying, a surprising discovery for someone who was still booking one-way tickets to China at 35, all-nighters included. The dread of defeat at the hands of the uncontrollable is only comparable to the exhaustive effort to fight it.
I often dream of when this phase will end. I know—this wish feels like an affront to life itself, and yet that’s what this five-yearlong beating dancing from Long Covid to multiple cycles makes me feel: an unnatural, self-emulsifying desire to fast forward.
Like a shark embryo devouring its siblings.
Like a spiderling consuming its mother.
In nature, matrophagy is when offspring consume their own mother to survive. Some spiders do this—liquefying their internal organs to feed their young. Scientists believe it increases survival in harsh conditions. It’s also seen in caecilians, where babies eat their mother’s skin, evolved to regrow for this purpose.
I think about that a lot. The desire to escape time—and the toll of being the thing consumed by it. Surely we wouldn’t just tell these creatures to be mindful, and yet…
When I meditate I focus on the breath—not to access some cosmic expanse, but to block everything else out. In a strange twist of neuroscience, that narrowing of attention—just the inhale, the exhale—is what allows me to expand in the good moments. In other words, I might exhale hours later.
Most days, I still prefer a trance—podcasts roaring, books, writing, shows, research—just to keep things moving, a biome of the mind exuding motility.
I recently bought a rock tumbler for my daughter. We sit together, waiting for the spin filled with water and sand to turn rocks into treasure. On good days, I’m half awake with a dopey smile. I’m still collecting gems.
With much love from the Healingvrse,
Rebecca
Other things I enjoyed this week:
• Shawn Ryan’s conversation with Dino Mavrookas — all about his company designed to rebuild the U.S. Navy. Drones, autonomous ships, BUD/S training… riveting.
• Mountainhead — was great. Starts out weird but did not disappoint. And I don’t care if people think it was the first movie written by ChatGPT.
• Awareness — just the right spiritual book to read when you want to wake up. There’s no perfect set of circumstances, you either want to wake up or not.
Some photos of my intermission:
