In the Jewish faith, the Friday-night Sabbath dinner traditionally includes a reading of Proverbs 31, extolling the virtues of the wife and mother in a family. “She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family,” goes the verse. And then, “Her children arise and call her blessed.” I have to wonder what goes through many mothers’ minds as they listen to this proverb in the presence of their families. Perhaps, “I’d be even more blessed if Junior did his own laundry now and then.”
Our local Chabad Jewish Center has started pop-up To-Go Sabbath Dinner meals and so this paragraph stood out to me. I recently dropped by to support the center with a pastrami meal purchase complete with delicious homemade bread. I had a Wonderful Conversation with the Rabbi and his two sons were present. One on a tricycle. It was Mother’s Day and I recall my mind pondering their maternal sitch (without inquiring). The meal was Divine and I look forward to future ones and getting the word out in our Community about this Wonderful New Offering.
To Mother’s; Biological, Spiritual, Divine, Natural, Earthen. Treasures. Always.
“Mother is both a noun and a verb. Some people had great mothers but lost them, some had or have mothers who never mothered them or stopped mothering them for some reason, treated them as adversaries or as worthless, and Mother's Day can be a punitive day for all those for whom this is true. The other half of the question of what there is to celebrate is what mothered and mothers you, how you mother yourself, how you celebrate and recognize what cares for you and takes care of you, and what do you care for in return.
“I remember once looking at the Pacific Ocean, to which I often reverted in trouble, and thinking "Everything was my mother but my mother." Books were my mother, coastlines, running water and landscapes, trees and the flight of birds, zazen and zendos, quiet and cellos, reading and writing, bookstores and familiar views and routines, the changing evening sky, cooking and baking, walking and discovering, rhythms and blues, friends and interior spaces and all forms of kindness, of which there has been more and more as time goes by.
“And of my own mother I wrote, in The Faraway Nearby: Like lawyers, writers seek consistency; they make a case for their point of view; they do so by leaving out some evidence; but let me mention the hundreds of sandwiches my mother made during my elementary school years, the peanut butter sandwiches I ate alone on school benches in the open, throwing the crusts into the air where the seagulls would swoop to catch them before they hit the ground. When my friends began to have babies and I came to comprehend the heroic labor it takes to keep one alive, the constant exhausting tending of a being who can do nothing and demands everything, I realized that my mother had done all these things for me before I remembered. I was fed; I was washed; I was clothed; I was taught to speak and given a thousand other things, over and over again, hourly, daily, for years. She gave me everything before she gave me nothing.
“May you locate the ten thousand mothers that brought you into being and keep you going, no matter who and where you are. May you be the mother of uncounted possibilities and loves.”
—A Facebook post by Rebecca Solnit, originally published in 2016
Our local Chabad Jewish Center has started pop-up To-Go Sabbath Dinner meals and so this paragraph stood out to me. I recently dropped by to support the center with a pastrami meal purchase complete with delicious homemade bread. I had a Wonderful Conversation with the Rabbi and his two sons were present. One on a tricycle. It was Mother’s Day and I recall my mind pondering their maternal sitch (without inquiring). The meal was Divine and I look forward to future ones and getting the word out in our Community about this Wonderful New Offering.
To Mother’s; Biological, Spiritual, Divine, Natural, Earthen. Treasures. Always.
To Mothers
“Mother is both a noun and a verb. Some people had great mothers but lost them, some had or have mothers who never mothered them or stopped mothering them for some reason, treated them as adversaries or as worthless, and Mother's Day can be a punitive day for all those for whom this is true. The other half of the question of what there is to celebrate is what mothered and mothers you, how you mother yourself, how you celebrate and recognize what cares for you and takes care of you, and what do you care for in return.
“I remember once looking at the Pacific Ocean, to which I often reverted in trouble, and thinking "Everything was my mother but my mother." Books were my mother, coastlines, running water and landscapes, trees and the flight of birds, zazen and zendos, quiet and cellos, reading and writing, bookstores and familiar views and routines, the changing evening sky, cooking and baking, walking and discovering, rhythms and blues, friends and interior spaces and all forms of kindness, of which there has been more and more as time goes by.
“And of my own mother I wrote, in The Faraway Nearby: Like lawyers, writers seek consistency; they make a case for their point of view; they do so by leaving out some evidence; but let me mention the hundreds of sandwiches my mother made during my elementary school years, the peanut butter sandwiches I ate alone on school benches in the open, throwing the crusts into the air where the seagulls would swoop to catch them before they hit the ground. When my friends began to have babies and I came to comprehend the heroic labor it takes to keep one alive, the constant exhausting tending of a being who can do nothing and demands everything, I realized that my mother had done all these things for me before I remembered. I was fed; I was washed; I was clothed; I was taught to speak and given a thousand other things, over and over again, hourly, daily, for years. She gave me everything before she gave me nothing.
“May you locate the ten thousand mothers that brought you into being and keep you going, no matter who and where you are. May you be the mother of uncounted possibilities and loves.”
—A Facebook post by Rebecca Solnit, originally published in 2016
from The Isolation Journals
That is a beautiful addition to this article. Thanks for posting and sharing.