Motherly Love

No doubt, as much as I think I know or have experienced Love, truly, my journey has only just begun. A few years ago I experienced a series of mini-crises. The climax of them spilling over into healing once I realized and felt love for those whom I was in conflict with, once I realized (not through intelligence, but through need) that removing the conditions of my love for them was what I needed to do in order to let go of my position and just love. Somewhat embarrassingly, the majority of these conflicts weren't with those whom are my significant others, but just others: people in my extended community that I had the opportunity to collide with. At the time, and still now, I didn't totally understand what was happening; but, once I had this sense of needing to let go and practice unconditional love, it then felt like the top came off of the volcano and it could simply erupt, not in a destructive fashion (as we often perceive a volcano), but instead as a releasing opportunity for transformation and growth. It was such a relief when I let go, and I let go simply because it hurt too much to hold on any longer. Which brings me to my current experience and contemplations of love.

Also a few years back, a friend by chance referred to one of my sons as a volcano, painting this beautiful image of his heat as lava paving way for new life (what a lovely way to describe a hot-headed tween). It is with this son, in his tweens, that I am feeling invited to re-investigate my practice of love. Coincidently, and gratefully, I am reading Erich Fromm's "The art of loving", and in his book he describes motherly love of a growing child, not that of an infant, as one of the most challenging love experiences and practices. When compared to brotherly love, or the love between husband and wife, motherly love is an experience of two people, who were once one (pregnancy), pulling away or separating from one another. With brotherly love, and the love between husband and wife, two people are moving together, in an attempt to experience oneness and union, but beginning as two. Fromm reckons that motherly love of an infant is easy, as it is instinctively driven, and the infant does not challenge the mother psychologically, unlike a growing child (except of course for the psychological ramifications of sleep deprivation). This, I can attest to, especially as my current experience of motherhood is simultaneously that of both an infant and of tweenagers. Although my infant is a source of physical outgoings: breastfeeding, co-sleeping, lots of holding and carrying; my two tweenagers are a source of psychological outgoings: them striving for as much independence and autonomy as possible, all the while trying to get away with as little responsibility as possible, with me struggling to hold my post as captain of the ship (a shared post of course with my husband/their father:-) ). Anyhow, I'm not going to blog on end about exactly why and how I perceive my experience of motherhood aligning with Fromm's explanation of it, it will simply have to be suffice to say that, for me, it does.

So, between my eldest son and I, there has been this cap and blockage on our shared volcano, and the heat has been rising. As it builds, my perception and experience of him has become less and less ideal, and more and more painful. In fact, the more I try to hold my position at the helm and steer with authority and certainty, the more and more I perceive him as a challenger, an upstart, and generally a pain in the butt. Fromm talks about a child ideally needing to experience not just loving milk from their mother, but also honey: not just security of place and care, but also the sweetness of life. He talks about milk and honey only flowing freely from a mother who is genuinely happy, who knows the value of loving herself, so she can truly love others (also sounding like: one can only give from a full cup....good for the goose is good for the gander...hmmm, seems this principle has been around). So, to truly love my children, the hot-headed one in particular, I need to practice the art of loving myself. Although I, like I'm sure so many others, have heard this concept of self-love time and time again, for some reason it has never taken root. Something Toni Powell said recently in a workshop provided a clue to why I think I've struggled with self-love, she mentioned that once upon a time she considered happiness to be self-indulgent. This is it, this is what gets in my way, maybe yours too, of self-love. For what ever reason, I have been convinced that being happy is a privilege that I don't deserve. But how impossibly impractical, and illogical, to try to give that which I have no concept of. There's no relishing of the sweet stuff together if I deny myself a bite and lack relatedness to the lovely taste. If I am not truly happy and able to practice self-love, then I will not be able to love anyone else...including my three children and husband whom I so desperately want to love in the most complete way possible. Finally, it feels as if these intersecting perspectives, for what ever reason, have fruitfully created a rich bed of context for the principle of self-love to be sowed and sustained. With practice, patience, faith and a little good weather I truly feel and believe that the a seedling of self-love will take root in my heart and blossom fully into unconditional love.

Now, I can't say that the top has blown off at the same rate and with the same instantly satiating feelings of relief as per my previously described mini-crises climax and healing...no such instant gratification here. However, perhaps it is that, with the experience growing pains from conflict with significant others (especially those you live with), relief is more gradual and slow going. Nonetheless, my previous experiences, paired with the insights I've gathered from Fromm's book and Powell's talk, as well as with the relentless nudgings of pain from my relationship with my eldest son, are all helping pave the way towards a deeper loving experience. I am truly grateful for these close relationships that in turn push me to dig deeper and reach higher in life. Isn't it funny how pain often leads the way. Pain, I am starting to see, is life's way of not letting me down...with out a solid whack upside the head, my apathetic qualities would likely allow me to simply drift numbly and listlessly through the current of life. Instead, pain thankfully drops solid boulders, or builds hot volcanos, for me to crash into and erupt with, waking me up and inviting me to live, learn, love and grow.

Of course, I don't really KNOW it, but I FEEL that unconditional love is THE practice: the one that'll not only teach me to swim rather than sink, but also to eventually fly (or levitate for you/us yogis). Maybe someday I'll have more insight about the techniques and/or practical tools of loving, but for now all I know is I need to let go of trying to steer and rear my son and instead practice enjoying him, and myself more, sharing in the sweeter things of our life together.