Motherload
Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
This Mother's day our family of four returned to the Vineyard, where, with the exception of last year, we have spent every Mother's Day since Pip was born. (I wrote about this tradition in a 2016 entry of Into the Blue when I shared Anna Quindlen's Essay "On Being Mom".)
The weekend was sweet: the candy store was open, Pip and Phoebe made cards, Roo serenaded me with a cup of coffee. The weekend was tender too: holding Roo's hand, walking down to the water, sitting silently in the ray of falling light over the bay; hugging our aunt's slighter-than-the-last-time-we-saw-her frame; dressing a skinned elbow. I was soothed by the return of our tradition and the familiarity of things: the view from the toilet, the smell of the towels, the texture of the sheets, the tinny sound of the halyard hitting the flagpole, tuning into WMVY. But there was a feeling of rawness too, like Phoebe's elbow: red, puffy, and slippery.
In 2016, I was intent on embodying gratitude and presence in motherhood. I put my whole being into embracing the small joys in our lives: the sweet breath, the wet kisses, the little fingernails, the loose teeth, the funny voices, the toddler run, the sucking sounds, the sweaty hairlines, the naked bodies immersed in bubble baths, the easy laughter, the awe of all things. Bathtime, bedtime, storytime, breakfast time, dinner time, snack time, lunch time...again and again, I embraced these moments. I was like a superhero with gratitude tucked into one pocket and presence tucked into the other.
Today, I remain armed with immense gratitude, but the past year has bruised my presence. Like so many of us, I have been severely distracted and exhausted by mother stories around the world. Surfing, scrolling, listening, reading, watching in front of a screen has left little room for fingernails and sucking sounds. My maternal presence has shifted to a collective one that includes not only my slice of motherhood and the slice of mothers I am in contact with, but the whole wide world of women mothering parallel to me. Processing so many more experiences of love and suffering, of losses and wins, of joy and pain can overload me. On one hand, the greater exposure to our collective experience and shared suffering has brought a sense of solidarity, purpose, and radical empathy; on the other, it has brought a sense of powerlessness, exhaustion and vulnerability.
The passing of time evident in the fleetingness of our children's childhoods is bittersweet; and the past year, witnessing so many mothers lose their children and so many children lose their mothers has compounded these feelings, for many of us to the point of grief and despair. Like the raw skin and deeper bruise under Phoebe's band-aid, we have some healing to do. And what better place to begin than with our mothers.
On Sunday, I hugged a mother who just finished 5 weeks of chemotherapy and radiation. I hugged another mother who had just put daffodils on her sister's son's grave. I spoke to a new mother who was fretting about her 2-year old acclimating to social situations after a year of isolation. I spoke with another mother celebrating her first Mother's Day after traveling to Africa and returning home with her adopted 4-year-old son. I texted with a mother who flew to North Carolina for the weekend to be with her recently widowed mother-in-law. I texted with another mother who was being celebrated by her new blended family for the first time in 17 years of motherhood.
The collective strength, love, joy, pain, and support in this small slice of motherhood is mighty and profound. Today I understand, the only way to bear the motherload: the sweetness, tenderness and rawness of raising our little beings is together, with gratitude in one pocket, presence in the other, and a cape of radical empathy around us. Oh, and we must not forget to stay vigilant in keeping plenty of room for the small joys that make this job so divine.
As always, thank you for reading,
Georgia
P.S. Three Things for you to get on your calendar this week:
1) This Friday is our first Blue Light Classroom - a 50-minute class that teaches tangible tools and strategies to help individuals and communities live more mindfully. We will be focusing on how to Befriend Time- you will learn new perspectives and tangible tools to help you transform your relationship to time: rather than feeling like a victim to time, you will feel empowered to be the creative author of your time. PLEASE SIGN UP AHEAD OF TIME.
2) This Saturday (May 15) I'm teaching a special 9am Blue Light Yoga class. I'm hoping to see all of you who can't make the 9am weekday classes.
3) Have you signed up for one of the introductions series yet? Both introduction to CAKE series and an introduction to Blue Light Yoga series are 3 weeks long and happening next month. These are perfect entry points for you to start a practice on your mat. Neither assume any prior experience.
P.P.S.
Our January retreat in Peru Vermont at Seesaw's Lodge is SOLD OUT! Would you like to join me in Costa Rica next spring instead???!!!! Email me if you're interested.