"The love of the Mother"

I have been writing about motherhood as a spiritual path in many iterations over the years, beginning with my first pregnancy twelve years ago. This work has been submitted to graduate school faculty, to my journal, to my computer, but never to my sister-mothers. It's not my intention to move back and chronicle all of those feelings, events, moments.  But, there are some memories that surface again and again as I consider this path. Here's one of my favorites.

 

I was blessed, I tell you, blessed to have one week of teaching with His Holiness, The Dalai Lama, several years back. His Holiness is delightful to experience and I never walk away from a teaching unmoved. And, although I have been in His presence on many occasions, there is always, for me, something a bit untouchable about his instruction. In some instances, one can feel as if all that enlightenment might just be reserved for men in saffron robes, ones that live in compounds or monasteries or caves, for that matter. The enlightened ones, well, they definitely don’t unload the dishwasher or use the bulb syringe to squeeze snot out of a wee nose. Nevertheless, His Holiness has been notably open to the inclusiveness of women.

 

Personally, I still have trouble shaking the stigma.

 

Until this day, when His Holiness took a question from the audience. This event happened not long after a mass shooting occurred on an American college campus. The audience member used the event to query His Holiness, yet again, with this perennial, heart-rending, wonder: “What’s up with all the bad stuff? And what can change this?” Part of the delight of His Holiness is his wandering and robust answers, hopping to and fro from English to Tibetan with his translator (a world-renowned scholar himself) scampering behind him in the glow of rainbows. His Holiness breaks all of this up with the most joyful, in-spite-of-himself, peals of laughter you could imagine. It’s no wonder his moniker, Kundun, translates as “the Presence.”

 

However, to this deeper, desperate question, his response was just five words:

 

“The love of the Mother."

 

I can’t remember whether he had more to say after that. I was kind of anchored right there. The ship had been sailing about in the night, going for an adventure cruise and skittering over the depths.  But “The love of the Mother” – well, the anchor sunk through all that deep, dark morass and just got me and my little boat real, real still. Real still.

 

So, here we are. 2012. Two things are probably true: there is probably a really good argument for an inverse relationship between the bad stuff of the world and the love of the mother. And, the mothers that I know are generally feeling a bit (or a lot) overwhelmed, under-energized, and tragically underappreciated. By both others and ourselves, sadly.

 

Basically, then, what we need is a really good way to soothe some nerves, clear some hearts, and juice these mamas up! And then, maybe then, we can start to save the world: one mother, one family, one child at a time.

 

xoxoxom

Amy