As I attempted to capture the layered luminescence of my Mother’s Day peony (gifted to me by my youngest daughter), I moved closer and closer into the blossom until I was literally lost in the sweep of petals and the sense of an inner path. I was transported back to Antelope Canyon in Utah, where I took the photo, below, last year while visiting my older daughter.
The canyon walls felt like flower petals; the petals, like the canyon. Each came to me thanks to one of my two daughters. Both images speak to me of fragility that displays as strength; and vice versa. And both look like themselves while conjuring multiple other associations.
Inside Antelope Canyon, UT
Within these petaled walls
my eyes slip, a silken slide
over and around each curve
a sensuous swirl of motion caught
in stilled waves of light.
How many of us know the real origin of Mother’s Day? Even had Hallmark existed in her day, Julia Ward Howe would never have imagined her dream narrowed from international peace to celebrating the nuclear mother. On one hand, this feels like a huge set-back for her vision which increasingly seems true: that it may indeed be women who lead us into world peace. On the other, it is an opportunity to reflect on and thank the many who mother us throughout our lives.
In my own life, this is a near-daily act of gratitude and attention. Mothering is the core of how I live in the world. As a result, observing how I have been mothered and in turn, mother, is a thread that not only runs through but connects me to all my lives. So much so that I will be adding Mothering Mondays to my blog offerings. There is simply too much mothering to be contained in one post, one interpretation, one life. Continue reading