A boy whose mother has died is calling me Mummy
He has done for months
But now that she is gone, I feel the weight of this differently
Life is teaching me that to be as kind as possible is all there is
Everything else takes care of itself after that
I cry, often
Look at the way that leaf moves
Jiggering : jittering : jiggling : quivering
One of so many Yet it caught my eye
Where is the face in the tree I used to fancy I could see
Oh Nature
You move and change so radically and yet so subtly
How do we fall so easily into the arrogance of certainty?
The certainty is that we are part of you.
To stay attuned to this is satisfaction
Contentment
Connection with ourselves in this moment
We are in you and you in us.
It’s going to be ok.
It already is ok.
Feeding this moment of noticing how ok it already is.
Feeling this ok moment.
Soothing my nervous system As the rhythm of my breath Synchs with the pace of nature
I find that now, here in this new moment, things are still ok
Maybe even a little bit more ok
Thank you Mother Earth For holding me so safely
I know I am at home in your embrace
I will care for you sincerely All the days of this life.
I love you.
Against my will, my loyal will
The small dog, semi-orphan, ill-trained, cuter than I could wish for
Has bonded to me
I see our similarities, and surrender to her tender sweetness, softening my heart to allow her silver fluff to soak up the blood still pouring from the gaping wound left by the death of my longest love
Good girl to come
Good girl to sit
Good girl to stay
The household toddler has had a visit from gastro this week. That meant being woken every two hours for two nights in a row by a fevering child, living in a blur of repetition of toilet checking, bottom wiping, hand washing, administering water and offering dry foods, and surrendering to dropping all plans. It has meant losing wages whilst still paying for unused daycare, and having the tv on way more than usual.
On the back of all this, yesterday I sat 2 adult naplan exams, complete with overcoming the stress of the power point not charging my lap top, my mouse stopping working, and the remote proctor not being able to access my camera, resulting in a 45 minute delay to my exam start time. Somehow managed to get a delicious evening meal on the table, and little one is on the mend today.
Yet the biggest challenge for me was helping her to put on the tiny gardening gloves that she was insisting on wearing for our walk this morning.
She also brought a cushion “in case I fall over”.
So of course one block into our walk, I’m carrying a pair of gloves rolled up, a cushion, a hand full of lillipillis, a few flowers, a bagged dog poo, and the lead of our 40kg old man. All in one hand to keep the other hand free to hold hands with little to cross the road.
A young woman jogging freely in the other direction with both hands free and ponytail swinging, smiled at us.
I thought, maybe she looks at us and wishes she could have this moment.
I am having this moment. This is what life has given me right now. What a joy.
I would like to offer more from Love Letter to the Earth (2018, Parallax Press) this week.“ Citizens of the Earth
We tend to think of human beings as falling into two groups: those who are similar to us, and those who are different. We allow political boundaries to obscure our interconnectedness. What we often refer to as patriotism is actually a barrier that prevents us from seeing that we’re all children of the same mother. Every calls its nation a motherland or a fatherland. Every country tries to show how it loves its mother. But in doing so, each country is contributing to the destruction of our larger mother, our collective mother, the Earth. In focusing on our human-made boundaries, we forget that we are co-responsible for the whole planet.When we see that we are all children of the same mother, we will naturally want to cultivate and strengthen our sense of being part of one large family. When we speak of protecting our planet, we often speak of finding new technologies. But without real community, technology may be even more destructive than constructive. Real community, built with our practice of mindfulness, enables us to act together. When we can communicate with ourselves and the Earth, we can communicate with ourselves more easily.”A pause for breath here, and contemplation on how we strengthen our own practice of communicating with ourselves and the Earth, and how valuable it is to water the seeds of this practice as often as we can.A moment too, to make acknowledgement in the season of NAIDOC celebrations here in Australia, of the wisdom in Aboriginal culture of deep respect for the Earth that was practised throughout this land for many thousands of years.Thay continues: “Every one of us, regardless of nationality or religious faith, can experience a feeling of admiration and love when we see the beauty of the Earth and the beauty of the cosmos. This feeling of love and admiration has the power to unite the citizens of the Earth and remove all separation and discrimination. Caring about the environment is not an obligation, but a matter of personal and collective happiness and survival. We will survive and thrive together with our Mother Earth, or we will not survive at all.” (pp 81-83).I find it so helpful, in diluting the despair that is surrounding our collective thinking about the climate crisis, to touch deeply the word of Thay here, about how our courage and strength in staying with the practice of feeling love and admiration for the beauty of the Earth and cosmos can contribute to our survival and thriving.Staying in gratitude, when we notice the wonders of our precious planet, and making our daily choices based on what is best for our Mother Earth are powerful things that we can all do in our daily lives that make important contributions towards our happiness and wellbeing as one big human family.A bow in gratitude to you for all that you do to preserve peace and love,
Joyful Mindfulness of the HeartA Ghandi-Mandela Peace Prize – Inaugural recipient, guess who?
These are the first words I heard this morning.
Followed by “there you go Mama, so lovely”.
I say ‘this morning’ in reference to the time after birds had started.
All the talking in wake and sleep that happened between 2:00 am and the birds shall be known as night talking. Night talking is not to be encouraged, as cute as some of the stuff is (Mummy I draw a beautiful pitcha on your aaaaaaaaarm); and shall not be spoken of again.
But that morning invitation to smile. Oh!
Thay makes the same invitation in the morning prayer:
Waking up this morning I smile
Twenty four brand new hours are before me
I vow to live mindfully in each moment
And to look at all beings with eyes of compassion
The beautiful hand made poster of this recitation that I used to have stuck beside the bed was long ago removed by a curious baby. Some days I remember to start the day with a smile to this poem, many days I’m swept up with the earliest demands.
Today they synthesised and my smile was so big, my presence in the moment so true; my gratitude for the life I have so visceral. Whatever the day brings, it started with a smile, and a smile to the invitation to smile.
Being awake since 2:00 is going to be ok…
“Mummy I get pants for meeeeee”.
Long little legs go running down the hall, with the pitter patter of new red leather shoes beating out the allegretto of a single-focused mission.
I gaze in wonder at the space before my eyes where she passed by with her announcement. Those little legs. Strong and certain, holding her to the earth; lifting her to the sky, where she was once a star.
A star, waiting for just the right time to take up the long-extended invitation to come and be loved by us.
And here she is, full of life, full of words. Full of erroneous requests at 4:00 am.
And as she is full, so does she fill me.
With a love so heart-expanding that I too, grow taller. With a joy so face-opening that my smile lines stretch further. With a giddying glow so all-encompassing that I’m sitting here in the kitchen, awe-struck.
That those little legs are the result of an orgasm.
Mind. Blown.
Spritely Musings 