Gratitude For My Mother

Most Sundays I hop onto Zoom to join the Friends of Awakening Sangha, a Buddhist spiritual community based in Indianapolis. I joke that I'm Buddhish, enlivened by that tradition's  philosophical inquiries & spiritual guidance, though not particularly all-in on any religion's metaphysical or theistic requirements. In my six or so months attending these meetings, I find it a welcoming space to reflect on my own journey & to gleam some wisdom from the experiences of the other members, as I'm often the youngest in attendance. 

This past week's group, falling on Mother's Day, was no exception. For our Dharma talk, following our meditation, we focused on the idea of mothering, from our literal experiences as / with mothers to our relationship to Mother Earth to our own attempts to nurture other life-forms I was touched by one member's assertion that though her mother is physically no longer present, she has been able to connect with her mother in equal, if not greater, capacity by carrying her in her heart & witnessing the ways her mother continues to manifest through family & spirit. 

I was reminded of Ram Dass talking in some lecture (I lose track at this point!) about how his relationship with his guru Maharaj-ji actually grew deeper without the physical impediments, how they could then, past Maharaj-ji's physical death, meet totally in the space of love. In some ways, that is a little too woo-woo for me, but as I've been examining my relationship to my own mother, I can't help but see the wisdom in that approach: just because someone isn't physically present, be it distance or death, doesn't mean we can't carry their spirit with us, can't harness the power of their love, can't continue to grow in relation to them through memory, celebration, & most importantly, gratitude.

In terms of physical distance, our family has gone through great change over the last two years. When my mental health collapsed, my wife left & I was unable to care for myself--physically, mentally, financially. My mother, without hesitation, stepped in as "my person," checking on me, supporting me through tough times, & holding me accountable for my treatment & recovery. Little did I know, she herself was going through her own transformation.

That larger story, of course, is hers to tell, but as I flopped down my path, she began to care more for herself, doing a remarkable job, in retrospect, of balancing her own needs & still caring for me. She retired from the job she'd had over 35 years. Her father physically died. She moved out of the only town she'd ever really known, four states away to her husband's homeland. 

I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt at the time that she moved within a year of my breakdown; I saw the concerned look other folks in my life wore when learning my primary caretaker was leaving in the middle of my recovery. But what those well-meaning faces & my self-centered mindset forgot was that she was a person too, dealing with her own scars & desires. Yet, through the distance & the transition, she was always there for me.

When I'm not being my best self, I take things way too personally; when I'm centered, grounded, & open, I can remember to lead with compassion, "the wish that others be free of suffering," as the Dalai Lama says so simply. Of course I want my mother to be free of suffering! For me to truly appreciate my mother, I have to align that desire with my great love, & let's face it, great need, of my mother.

In his book "Everything is Fucked: A Book About Hope," Mark Manson plainly lays out the grinding problem of the human mind, the existence of often dueling halves that he calls The Thinking Brain & The Feeling Brain. In our reactive, fear-driven times, we let The Feeling Brain run haywire with The Thinking Brain scrambling to clean up the mess, often in opposition. But when we pinch them close together, The Feeling Brain as the driver & The Thinking Brain as the navigator, we can move more compassionately. 

That compassionate space, for me, has been found in recent months in gratitude. Each morning, I write in my journal & I begin each entry with something I'm grateful for. With my mother in particular, I try to follow up when I've had mood swings or a bipolar episode, to apologize for any hurt I've caused & to show appreciation for her steadfast love.

I thought I'd end this week's post with a short letter to my mother in that spirit:

Dear Mom,

I know these last two years (& undoubtedly the 31 prior) have not been easy, testing your patience & resolve countless times over. A son is work enough, but add in the "eventfulness" of my life, & that difficulty certainly compounds. Reflecting on you, the true essence of you & how that sits with me every day, I'm bursting at the seams with gratitude. 

I'm grateful that you began prioritizing yourself while still caring for me. I'm grateful you learned to not take my moments of madness personally, as you have always done the best you could in each moment. I'm grateful you are continually modeling for me how to love unconditionally. I'm grateful you continue to make sure I'm loved, housed, & fed, well past the required years. I'm grateful that you are still around to call & visit. I'm grateful for the stories & lessons I am blessed to carry, to bring you forth even when you're not around. I'm grateful, because of my illness & your willingness to share your own struggles, that we have one of the most unique & connected mother-son relationships I've ever seen.

I hope you had a wonderful trip to the beach with your best friend. I look forward to hugging you in July. Till then, let's meet often in the space between.

Love always,
​Your Son T-GOB