Tag Archives: motherhood

Am I My Mother?

Am I my MotherI look in the mirror. My hair has turned almost white. I remember my mother with her white hair blowing in the wind, framing her face. She looks like she is seeing into another world. She’s looking pensive, with a half smile on her face. I have a friend who would always tease me about coloring my hair and asked me why I did it. And I replied, so that I would not look like my mother. And now I do.

My mother wore her gray hair proudly and used to brag to us children that she’d have people come up to her at parties and ask what hairdresser had given her the gray streak. She’d had a gray streak since her early thirties.

I look at photographs of my mother at her wedding and I do not know that person. I know the person who was my mother, the woman who was in her thirties and forties and early fifties. If I look like my mother does that mean that I am my mother? Of course, I know intellectually that I am part Mom, part Dad and part me, which all goes to make up the unique me. But still, what parts of each of them have I inherited, the good parts or the bad parts? When I was in my twenties I was terrified that I had inherited all the bad parts of Mom. And then in my thirties, I thought maybe I’d inherited only the good parts. And then I just quit thinking about it.

I am my mother’s daughter. I have followed her patterns. I have changed her patterns. I have her patterns inside me. I want to clear my energy field of her patterns, the old patterns of self hate and self loathing. I want to release and let go of what does not serve me for my highest and best good. I want to clear my fields of energy. Let the darkness go, let the dark water flow out of me, the dark misty fog and have compassion and love for myself. Light in my being. Fill up my being with light. Spinning twirling shadow, light, shadow, light, we are made up of shadow and light, but if we spin fast enough, at a higher vibration, then we are filled with light, and spin and spit out rays of light. We are a spinning top of light and love. The rays come out of the top of our head and throughout our body. I didn’t know that I still held my mother’s pain. I thought I was clear. If I replicate an old pattern of pain, then have I acted out of a perverse sense of following the leader, the one who went before me, my mother? But I do not want to follow that old pattern, that old pain. I want light and love and compassion to fill my being.

And now I look in the mirror and I am passing into the age that I remember my mom being and I remember her and wonder.


Paean to Parents

parent paen-1Paean is a song of praise or tribute, an ode. It’s a very old fashioned word, derivation Greek, first used in the Iliad by Homer in reference to singing a song of praise to Hector at his funeral.

I don’t know how this word came to me. It just did. It wasn’t while I was reading old literature, but rather while I was wandering through our local park to get some fresh air. I was watching the tree branches move in the wind when I saw a young parent in front of me on the path. His new baby was in a stroller and his toddler walking beside him. They were having a discussion about the grass and trees, but the toddler needed his shoes tied and the young father bent down, patiently and carefully, and retied his laces. And I thought about how one needs so much patience, love, and concern to bring up the next generation to become caring, kind, and aware individuals.

Parenting is a real art form, one that is learned with the doing and practicing. OJT-On the Job Training. I wanted to go over to that young father and say thank you so much for being gentle with your child, for all of the time and energy that you will be spending as you reach forward into the future and teach your children how to become compassionate and conscious beings. Our biology depends on us to procreate, to have young to replace the old who die. We, as a race, need the young to continue our human endeavors. You may not be a parent but collectively we will always rely upon the young for their fresh focus and new ideas. So I did not say anything to that young man. I felt embarrassed that I as a stranger would be too intrusive on his time with his children. But I wanted him to know how thankful I was of his efforts. And when I see the mother in the market, with the three year old, who is just too tired to go on, lying face down in the aisle, and the mother scoops up that child, and wipes her eyes, and offers her a piece of bread, I want to say thank you for teaching care to your child.

So if we could all say thank you to our parents, and hold the door open for the mothers who have their hands full of groceries and children, or offer a seat on the bus or subway to the pregnant mothers, who are tired and aching, then wouldn’t we too be helping the parents raise the young to become attentive and true and thoughtful.