Mothering as a Spiritual Practice

I recently spent an evening with two other friends of mine who are beautiful, smart, warm, caring individuals who also happen to be mothers too. We talked about a lot of things. We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant. Finishing dinner, still deep in conversation and not ready for our evening together to end, we took our "party" to Graeter's for a treat.

While immersing my taste buds in the frigid sweetness of a blueberry sorbet and allowing the stress of the day to melt away in the summer heat we chatted endlessly. The discomfort of the hard bench against my backside completely vanished the more shared and I began to realize just why I needed to be right there in that specific place at that very moment. We talked about our kids, our struggles in parenting and home education, we revealed some difficult truths about ourselves and made ourselves vulnerable with one another with humor appropriately sprinkled throughout. Through our discussions, I realized that we had each helped each other along our paths of discovery in these moments of sharing. We were simultaneously giving birth to new parts of ourselves as we reached new levels of understanding. While each of us labored in our own birth processes, we were also midwives for one another, supporting and encouraging one another. This experience, while it sounds so powerful and special...a sacred moment between friends is not unique in my life.

Since becoming a mother, I have often lingered in a place of doubt, wondering why I ever took on such an impossible task. I must be crazy to have asked for this and then to have taken specific actions to make it happen. Insane...see previous post. "I'll never be able to do this." "I am not strong enough." "I am not good enough." "I am not loving enough." All of these internal struggles and fears giving way to actions I often regret. Doubt...Regret...

Getting stuck in doubt and regret leaves us where? Stuck in labor...suffering. A good midwife will know what to do at these times to help us along until we finally give birth to a brand new outlook and understanding of ourselves. It is this deeper understanding that helps us not to repeat the same mistakes thus perpetuating our own suffering. It is from this place of deeper understanding that compassion is born...and wisdom. The same compassion and wisdom you will call upon when it is your turn to assist the laboring men, women and children in your life.

I realized last Thursday evening, while eating blueberry sorbet with only two of the very special women that I know, how very fortunate I am. I am blessed to be a part of the group in society called Mothers. We work in the trenches as trash pickers and shit cleaners. But we are also vessels of light juggling the orbs of human experience and spinning them into a golden thread that connects us all. I am grateful for every single mother I know. I learn from you all, I share with you all, I laugh with you and cry with you all. It truly does take a village and each of your fingerprints are on the hearts and minds of the children I am raising whether you know it or not. This has been my experience. Thank you.