Taking a walk on Mother’s Day

I am grateful for mothering love that knows cherishing, comforting, holding space, healing, and believing in. The love that has taught me I am whole and more than enough. The love that has taught me joy in another’s success, faith when the world is a mess, virtue in curiosity and kindness, and bear-like loyalty. The love that knows in the marrow of our bones – the very lifeblood of what it means to be human. That love is bigger than gender and biology. That is the love I celebrate.

Celebrating Mothers Day is difficult. My own understanding of mothers and mothering love has deepened over the years. I have arrived at what I understand as my mothering truth. Somewhere nestled in my mothering truth is relentless forgiveness. Somewhere nestled in my mothering truth is a love of tradition and ritual. Somewhere nestled in my mothering truth is a respect for story as something that connects and makes compassion possible. Somewhere nestled in my mothering truth is love for other people’s children as if they are my own. My mothering truth also holds our earth in a loving embrace. When I think about mothers and mothering love that way – when I forget labels, heal a few wounds, extend a few olive branches, and drink from the fount of humility and grace – it becomes something I celebrate.

I thought about living big and crazy wisdom this week. I thought about my experience at the Women’s March this week, too. It all seems connected to my mothering truth. All of it reminds me of the need for women to lead, the power of a majority, the importance of shoulders to stand on, and love changes things for the better. That gives me hope. We all need to be reminded of all that, especially mothers. In this time of chaos and isolation, holding tight to all that might be the best thing we can do.

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Mother’s Day Counsel From My Ultimate Teacher

I took a writing course a few years ago, and one of our assignments was entitled “Counsel From Your Ultimate Teacher.” Martha Beck, the course’s teacher, views our ultimate teacher as our inner truth. This assignment is a universal invitation to celebrate Mother’s Day and remember my NEEAAReSt and Dearest posts.

Read the post here.

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“B” (If I Should Have a Daughter)

If I should have a daughter, instead of mom, she’s going to call me Point B,

because that way she knows that no matter what happens,
at least she can always find her way to me.

And I am going to paint the Solar Systems on the backs of her hands,
so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say ‘Oh, I know that like the back of my hand’

Sarah Kay — “B” (If I Should Have a Daughter)

This poem reminds me of the work of psychologist Martha Beck. Beck writes about finding our North Star and steering our lives by starlight. We must paint our solar system. We must find our North Star. We must steer our lives by starlight.

In this way, a Point B is part astronomer mapping constellations to keep us from bumping into things, part artist creating a solar system from start dust and scar tissue, part chess master moving pieces with logic and precision, part cheetah equipped with fierce courage.

We all need a Point B. We all need a mom, by any name that fits, to help us learn and grow, fail and reconfigure, dream and achieve. If mom, or Point B, does their job, we arrive to life ready to handle the falling apart and coming together. We arrive to life understanding birth and death. We arrive to life welcoming impermanence and flow, rather than insisting on certainty and singular truth.

Perhaps we even need a lot of moms, by many names, to be many Point Bs. In the way that a constellation needs many stars. In the way that a community needs communal wisdom. In the way that truth, and self, and source are all multitudes.

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I am the Apsara’s Daughter

for Soriya

I wander in her forest / hearing ankle bells jingle with each step,/ the universe at her feet and hands./ I want to touch her./ She flies in my house in paintings/ with petals of orange blossom raining from the/ ceiling./ With her base-relief tattooed on my skin/ I worry I have offended the deity.

from “I am the Apsara’s daughter” by Sokunthary Shay

I met Ganesha, the Hindu guardian of beginnings and remover of obstacles, in 1998. My search for Ganesha has continued ever since. My trip to Bali. My wedding. My home. Ganesha is part of my everyday life.

I understand Shay’s connection with the Apsara through my connection with Ganesha. The Apsara is the embodiment of beauty, music, and womanhood. Her rhythm is that of a mother and muse. Beauty, music, and womanhood are fluid and complex. Beginnings and obstacles are fluid and complex, too. Stillness and knowing are required to find joy in it all.

My mind returns to Ganesha and the promise of beginnings and obstacles. There is beauty, music, and womanhood — the divine feminine — there. We are daughters of the divine feminine.

Thanks for taking a walk with me on Mother’s Day. Subscribe to the Wide-Awakeness Project for more walking, words, and connection.Subscribed

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