Part 2 of the magic of Lulling is over. I continue to learn, diving into the depths of the mystery of healing family stories. This stage was about pregnancy, childbirth, and the first year of life. A trip, by and large, for two (mother and child). I am sitting, cradling the baby. Letting there, into the hammock, a sea of ​​love that rightfully belongs to her. By right of birth, by the right of not accidentally coming into this world. I convey what was not received. And I myself tremble from tenderness, from intimate fragility and the unrealistic power of the process. A feeling of almost trance in the role of a parent, and a real trance in the role of a child. It turned out that there is a huge number of decisions made. About the world, mother, about me, about dad. I’m reconsidering, reliving, I learned to build relationships again, say no, and ask for what I want. The experience is still unfolding, but already now I feel smoother, softer, and, surprisingly, stronger. So you can congratulate me, I am now a master of soothing! Let there be soothed ones more! Once upon a time, back in 95, I learned to cradle my daughter. I sang lullabies to my beloved little one. Cradled, rocked in her arms. Then I didn’t yet know how important this was. They pushed Spock on me, demanded a feeding schedule by the hour, and not to pamper her with my hands. They say he will lie down in the crib, cry, and pee less. I didn’t know then that, as a psychologist, I would hate Spock. For me, he is on a par with the “gentlemen from the SS”, only they burned people in ovens, and Spock made the souls of millions of people suffer from a feeling of abandonment, internalized helplessness and loneliness. I have long been looking for a way to add. Give to adults who were deprived in childhood. Love, openness, happy anticipation of his birth. With words of delight and tenderness, permission to show up, to live with pleasure and much more. Spock robbed several generations, and God bless him, if only for money, he robbed us for love. My clients are adults, accomplished people with great pain in their souls, with a lack of self-acceptance and self-love. Now I lull them to sleep, returning to them the sweetness of the first innocent hugs. Allowing you to get what you need that you were deprived of. To fill that crushing deficit. The music sounds quietly, intertwined with the sound of the heartbeat and the noise of blood that the baby hears inside the mother. The hammock sways, and mother’s warm hands and voice barely audibly accompany her, humming, purring, comforting and resolving. Be. Be in love. To be loved. Living. Sacrament... Perhaps yes. And although there are several mother-baby pairs, they seem to be separated from the whole world, by depth and co-direction towards each other. Somewhere there is a quiet conversation, someone is crying, and someone is grumbling. There is still a lot going on there, but this feeling of pain being discharged (after all, you can only take it by emptying it, freeing up space) and filled tenderness is amazing. In my work another love has appeared. In February I am recruiting a group for Lulling. If anyone is interested, write +7(977)398-91-30. Or here in messages.