Sometimes I feel lonely. -Or unimportant. -Or absent. It has something to do with being a mother, and me, and, I am pretty certain, it has to do with every single one of us. In yoga it is said this is our "gift" (ha-like coal in the stocking, at first consideration) to discover--that the Universe has chosen to pare down its' Greatness in order for us to remember from where our Potential comes. We are embodied Divinity! -Once the simplest organism grown into unquantifiable dimension, of which huge parts of our formation not only do we have yet to still understand, but of which parts are still manifesting, continuing to evolve. Elizabeth Gilbert says it like this, "The Universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them.” With this depressing intro-atleast there is the hope that we are a TREASURE TROVE!
In regards to the mother piece, I hardly want to admit the feelings of inadequacy, not-enough, absence, triviality even. -For I want to be totally 100% in love with the role; present all the time; relishing and rolling in every sweet moment. I have smiling deeply contented vibrant totally loving boys skipping along in my wake, or in front of me, leading me back Home; journals; homemade and handcrafted signs of love; snuggle fests; nature walks; all the "I love yous" for this and next lifetime; cherished family reading time, game time, meals, vacations, poignant conversations; laughter and silliness; piggyback rides; swinging marathons; to-die-for hugs and kisses...and still.
And as a human-wearing-yogi's clothes, and vice versa, I practice and study my yoga, live my life as sadhana. -Loneliness, smallness, disconnection will find anyone with a heart and head!
Even when I know I have great friendship, HUGE love, and a deliciously loving family who I am enfolded into, embraced; never a single beat skipped in the pulse of "be you, be you, be you" that heartbeat of encouragement and support from my parents. -But still that little girl of seven or eight or fifteen or sixteen (is that when I/we first recognized those feelings?) chimes in with any possible and pragmatic reasoning...the reasoning is in vain.
Then I start to remember how I am building something incredibly important-monumental really. A foundation of ever-lasting love! A treasure trove of experience and possibility, to carry me as I walk, and as I pass on and to others. In me, around me, with others.
As a Mamma, I am sewing silken strands of Love into the soft soles of my children's shoes, many stitches into the earth. Just taut enough, and also ready to gently break away at just the right time when just the right kind of wearing, and hopefully not tearing, allows their steadfast tread to walk in the marginal space between This Kind Of World, we are all living in now, and the One Full of Real Hope, Authenticity, True Fearlessness and Awakened Folk. -Which my children will help uplift out of the Upheaval, usurping the Crooked Queen, for real liberation for all! *(Please excuse the allusory voice, akin to Jabberwocky talk-y. I will indulge in this tangent, however that this banter is relative to the blog entry here, as in my role of mother, I have been reading "The Jabberwocky" each night with my children, exciting all kinds of adventure and importance--the little boy DOES save the day with his vorpal blade and makes grand connection with the proud speaker of the poem, and even the slithy toves, borogoves and mome raths seem to rally in community around the hero-getting a glimpse of his Granduer. All these positive aspects of what it means to be a human are alive through this poem when one may be in the doldrums as alluded to in the beginning of this entry!)
Alas, I SHOULD also say that most of the time for me, I am growing love out of every pore. -Especially as a mother. Right in front of me-these little folk yearn for my love, as I do theirs! And they are asking for what they know I can already give, and that’s enough! I don’t need to give more than that. Brene Brown talks about how you can’t love your children more than you can love yourself. This lesson became so apparent for me recently. A friend and colleague of mine, Livia Shapiro, said recently that "being a mother is both the most isolating place one can find themselves and the most profound connection to Real Love," grounded in the form of this little charge you hold and guide tenderly to know and understand these same things that you are trying to remember.
As a yogi-practicing-human, and vice versa, I am committed to my inner work, and I walk the bhakti path of the heart. Each yellow brick of the way gets easier as I follow the road to my own inner Awakening. Most of my days are filled with light. Most of the tougher moments from which this blog was born, are filled with the light of consciousness, where I have the innate knowledge that the connection to my heart AND those around me AND to our highest purpose is greater than the simple sum of my parts-especially my dark parts. The shadow exists because there is light. As Leonard Cohen says, "Ring the bells that still can ring/ Forget your perfect offering/ There is a crack in everything/ That's how the light gets in."
So, ultimately, at the end of my frabjous day, I can, I do chant, "Callooh! Callay! and chortle in my joy.**
I share this little piece of my heart, my writing, this blog, because I must in order to crack wide open so the light gets out... and it is my tiny HUGE hope that in the sharing, you also will remember your perfect offering, and to shout it to the rooftops, chortle delightedly at the thought of it, or give it away to someone else who might need it, trusting the Universe will again bring solace in the remembering if you forget!
**More borrowed words/lines from Lewis Carroll's "The Jabberwocky."
