Many of you know that I have a book coming out soon. What you might not know is that I am already writing my next book. This book is called Birthed By Many Mothers. It’s a book that shares my journey with my community mamas. The archetypal pattern of the mother/daughter walk has worn a deep groove in the universal story of women.
It’s a walk in which the mother is met with herself again and again through this daughter. Then she has to learn how to let go. How to release her into the world. Sometimes it is done gracefully and sometimes it isn’t. I have had both experiences with the different community mamas in my life.
The ones that knew how to release me into the world with grace taught me that I could trust myself in the world. Taught me that the world was a safe place to travel out into. The ones who couldn’t do it gracefully, the ones where I had to fight a little harder to step into my own taught me that I could claim my own freedom. They taught me that I didn’t have to let anyone not even my own mother stand between me and freedom. And strangely enough they all taught me that claiming my freedom expanded theirs.
Each of these women, Patricia, Eloise, Betty, Aunt Linda, Grandma Diane, Shelley, Kelly, Jojopah, Suzanne, Aunt Sandy, Mama Eileen, Fanchon, and last but not least Makayla, have informed my own mothering. I carry each of their legacies within me and have woven them together as my offering to the world.
I have been enchanted by how spirit works. As I have turned my attention towards this book the mothers have started showing up. While I was in North Carolina a couple of months ago I met someone who was connected to one of my community mamas that died eight years ago. She showed up with an invitation to go to a place and do work where Shelley had lived. A little over a week ago, another mother stopped by with 3 bags of clothes for me that she had compiled after cleaning out her closet. And yesterday one of my mamas came to visit me. She hadn’t been in my home since my birth mama died 12 years ago. I got to record a conversation with her today about our journey together. I can’t tell you how sweet these encounters have been.
So here I am on this new ride with my community mamas. Open to learning what they have for me now. Still mothering me, some even from the grave.
Quanita
I notice that I don't think of myself as being mothered in community. It feels like, in my life, I have been parented by a nurturing male. Obviously, a pattern from early on. I was more guarded with female figures, fearing they would try to steal my soul. That's an old story. I wonder if I am now pulling down a new story. How might I continue to open to the story of me being "mothered" by the women in my life? This is a very tender place, and I am even in this moment recognizing that I want to "go slow" ...