Mother’s Day. So many whisper’s tease my heart. With stubborn persistence one whisper prevailed. Which mother do I celebrate? The mother I knew growing up? Alternatively, do I celebrate the mother I’ve come to know since her death nineteen years ago? There are very few pictures of me growing up. A curious discovery made after her death.  Fewer of my mother and I. This is one of the few pictures. Have looked at it often and each time it seduces me to answer these and other questions.  I don’t even remember the picture or when it was taken. I know it is very very old.  Yet another question. Another mystery is captured by the photo. I did not express affection for my parents. My face mastered the awkwardness of the intimacy required when near and in photos. For both of those confessions my heart continues to grieve. Yet here I am, my arm around her and an obvious happy countenance. An enigma. Another question.

Which mother do I celebrate? Are they different? Oh yes, most assuredly. Are they the same? A definitive and resounding yes.

And that is the whisper I would leave for all mothers, daughters, and sons who might stumble upon my simple ponder. We will never truly know the one who gave us birth. She could not and cannot truly know us. Our DNA may share similarities but the fingerprints of our bodies, hearts, minds, and experiences are irrefutably unique. Like the single spark that created the infinite diversity of our universe, we share the origin but not the manifestation. Unity’s perfection. Separation’s imperfection. Judgement annulled. The fecund soil of unity, imperfection, and non judgement embodies rooted mystery and love. Whatever our experience or manifestation the mystery of unknowing and love are the umbilical cord that can never be severed.

Yes Mama, your little hobbit daughter tends to ponder a lot. You knew that in my silence. I guess, on this Mother’s Day, I just wanted, for a change, to let you know what I was thinking.  Just wanted to let you know you were, and are, the kindling of this heart that yearns to write and ponder. Just wanted to say thank you. Just wanted to give you a hug with something stronger than my arms- my heart and my scrich. Happy Mother’s Day Mama. With my hands to my heart, the Spirit within me, gifted by you, bows to the Spirit within you. To the unchangeable oneness of you, Namaste.