I can focus upon the mountain and the wall between its reality and my sight. I can focus upon the cloud that has decided to sit on the earth for a while. I can even focus upon the flat and barren mesa and the tree line of demarcation. I can see only the sun trying to stream through and the little portal opening in the sky. So so many ways to look at the image. Which is truth? Which one offers the essence? And what of essence as the image is only a snapshot in time that will quickly change.
Holidays that honor parents are like the image. So many ways to look at our parents. And what of those whose desire to be a mother has not been answered? Does not their heart count? What of the hearts who see only the imperfection….or the ache of loss? We cannot detract from the celebration of one nor can we be blind to the others. It is like the image.
As I gazed at the image I pondered that on this day may we mourn, weep, celebrate, rejoice, and perhaps even be angry. And then to pause and give thanks to the Mother that defies even the title…our hearts. That we all may know the nurturing love for ourselves and our perfect imperfection. For if we could truly realize that Love, then perhaps the image would not be a snapshot in time. Instead an image of the infinite expanse of forgiveness requiring no apology, celebration without ceasing, and gratitude for what was, is, and yes, will be. Then we shall be all be Mothers of the world.
Recent Comments