Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

The Time of the Mother

A mother is someone who, using the wise words of Oriah Mountain Dreamer, "can get up after the night of grief and despair weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children".

For some it is a role taken on initially by choice.  For others, it is an unexpected gift.  Regardless, once we are placed into the role of Mother, we are blessed with responsibilities that promise to break us open.

Our eyes and hearts and hands are opened to ways of being that we never before considered possible.  When the smiles are wide and the giggles are flowing, we feel blessed.  When hearts are breaking and sleep cannot be had, we ask why and cry ourselves into a dark oblivion to try to escape it all.

Women, I'm talking to you.

Men, I'm talking to this part of you that is stirred by the recognition of this within you.

On mother's day, we tend to celebrate with a visit to mom or perhaps only to her memory.  Restaurants are filled, flowers bought in dozens.  Tomorrow, we will wake up - a Monday morning - and return to what needs to be done.

Mothers are called to return.

Every single one of you who reads this, you are being called to respond. Your children need you.  We are all weary and bruised to the bone, aware of the clutter hidden in our closets, the to-do list that will never get done, the bullying in our own schools, the sex trafficking across the globe, the wars that continue seemingly without any more desire to fight.  Mothers no longer have the luxury to indulge in escape.  We shall do what needs to be done and, through the process, delight in the awareness of what this means.  

Every single one of you who read this, you are being called to surrender.  All of our hearts are breaking.  A mother who is not healed cannot heal others.  We must surrender to the pull of our heart, the choked breath, and cry until what is no longer needed inside has flowed out into the universe that can release it.  

 

Today, I celebrate the mother in each of us.  I acknowledge the pains and delights and challenges and celebrations that biological and adoptive mothers take with so little recognition.  I acknowledge the single fathers and grandparents and caregivers who do what needs to be done though they, too, are weary and struggling to move on.  

I invite us all - YOU - to spend even one moment in silence and to honor that within you that feels the suffering of your children, your loved ones, your neighbors, those you will never meet.  I invite you to honor that mother that sighs and, with a knowing smile, takes the next step and offers it all through love.

It is time.

 

Namaste. 

 

p.s. After posting this, I came across this wise post by a dear friend, Hali, on her site, LilyWheelSlide.  She puts the same idea I discussed above into such poetic and artistic expression...please take a look.

p.p.s. It seems we are all on the same vibe here: January Handl shared a very touching poem, titled, "Women-You Are Called" today over at Bliss Habits.  Synchronicity??