Many years ago while participating in a women's spirituality group, I had the opportunity to meet a most extraordinary woman. She was a Catholic nun who had started a nonprofit here in Portland which was committed to helping prostitutes get off the streets and begin the long and courageous journey of transforming years of victimization, oppression, and abuse to a life of dignity, respect, compassion, connection, meaning, and love. Among the words that Sister Cathy spoke that night in talking about healing work with others are these, which will always stay with me: "What is needed more than all else is to be a heart with ears."
At that time I was still in the earlier years of my own awakening, healing, and transformation of generations of tragedy and loss. Skillfulness, sensitivity, empathy, compassion, tenderness, and the capacity to be present - to truly listen and hear one another - were not qualities that were readily modeled and passed on in our family; nor are they graced with value in our culture at large. Gratefully, the healing journey has freed me from blame and instead offered the exquisite gift of feeling into the experiences of not just myself, but also my brother, my parents, my ancestors, and ever widening circles of beings. In learning to gradually open my heart more and more deeply, I have been empowered to make increasingly mindful choices and offer a very different legacy to my children from the one unknowingly handed down to my twin and me, to my parents and their parents before them, and on and on.
Miracles happen. Out of so much loss - and truly a lifetime for my mother - have come these priceless opportunities for my mom and me to be with one another, to share moments in which we both are able to set aside the old stories which kept us apart and instead truly be present to the truth and love that has always been available, but which was tragically denied for many years. For so long I had thought that any depth of listening and sharing would always be a one way experience with my mother. With Alzheimer's and dementia, major depression, and a lifetime of unattended wounds, I did not believe my mother capable of moments of such clear access and lucidity of heart. I was wrong. What makes these moments that we have shared all the more precious and priceless is that, to one degree or another, we both know what it is like to have this tender connection deeply missing within ourselves, with each other, and in all our relationships. And, paradoxically, this has been one of my life's greatest teachings, one which I have learned from my mother's great struggle - which then became my own - to be present in our bodies, in our hearts, to be able to listen and to hear.
Through so much loss has come this illumination of the profound preciousness of connection, of open-heartedness, of compassion, of being able to listen and receive the sweetness of our hearts and that of others. Blessed are the gifts of the alchemist - the capacity to embrace, heal, transform, and receive the gems hidden in all the darkness. They are there, waiting, these extraordinary gifts... in our hearts, in the Love that connects us all. My heart overflows with gratitude... Molly*
At that time I was still in the earlier years of my own awakening, healing, and transformation of generations of tragedy and loss. Skillfulness, sensitivity, empathy, compassion, tenderness, and the capacity to be present - to truly listen and hear one another - were not qualities that were readily modeled and passed on in our family; nor are they graced with value in our culture at large. Gratefully, the healing journey has freed me from blame and instead offered the exquisite gift of feeling into the experiences of not just myself, but also my brother, my parents, my ancestors, and ever widening circles of beings. In learning to gradually open my heart more and more deeply, I have been empowered to make increasingly mindful choices and offer a very different legacy to my children from the one unknowingly handed down to my twin and me, to my parents and their parents before them, and on and on.
Miracles happen. Out of so much loss - and truly a lifetime for my mother - have come these priceless opportunities for my mom and me to be with one another, to share moments in which we both are able to set aside the old stories which kept us apart and instead truly be present to the truth and love that has always been available, but which was tragically denied for many years. For so long I had thought that any depth of listening and sharing would always be a one way experience with my mother. With Alzheimer's and dementia, major depression, and a lifetime of unattended wounds, I did not believe my mother capable of moments of such clear access and lucidity of heart. I was wrong. What makes these moments that we have shared all the more precious and priceless is that, to one degree or another, we both know what it is like to have this tender connection deeply missing within ourselves, with each other, and in all our relationships. And, paradoxically, this has been one of my life's greatest teachings, one which I have learned from my mother's great struggle - which then became my own - to be present in our bodies, in our hearts, to be able to listen and to hear.
Through so much loss has come this illumination of the profound preciousness of connection, of open-heartedness, of compassion, of being able to listen and receive the sweetness of our hearts and that of others. Blessed are the gifts of the alchemist - the capacity to embrace, heal, transform, and receive the gems hidden in all the darkness. They are there, waiting, these extraordinary gifts... in our hearts, in the Love that connects us all. My heart overflows with gratitude... Molly*
The Ear as Petal
The ear is only a petal
that grows from the heart.
When we hear each other,
it all becomes a garden.
Just what does it mean to listen? We have all exhibited the remarkable mental divisiveness whereby we choose not to pay attention, and yet when asked, we can recite word for word what was said.
Listening arises from a deeper place, and it seems we can only hear the living to the extent that we have truly lived, only understand pain and joy to the extent that we have allowed ourselves to be touched by life. If the ear grows from the heart like a petal, then as roots absorb rain and sun until a simple flower opens, the heart must absorb both tears and joy in order to spout an ear that can truly hear.
I remember, years before cutting my feet in search of a path, sitting on my immigrant grandmother's hospital bed, watching her wince as they put gauze on her bedsore heels. I remember, years before I saved my golden retriever from drowning, watching a coworker cry for his dead dog, trying to understand how he could love an animal more than a person. I remember, years before having to start my life over, racing down a farmhouse road in the middle of the night to see my father-in-law's proud eyes jut as the barn he built thirty years before was burning to the ground.
It was only later that I felt their pain, and even more, their true joy in caring for things. To be sure, we do not have to experience the same things to receive each other, but we do have to experience what is ours to live through before life will show its roots.
What does it take to truly listen? The breakdown of everything that parades between our hearts. If I dare to hear you, I will feel you like the sun and grow in your direction, and you in mine. For when we hear each other, it all becomes a garden. It all becomes edible.
- Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want
by Being Present to the Life You Have
Among the many miracles which were occurring while my mother lived here near
her family were many moments in which we both were able to listen and hear.
On this path of awakening, I am consistently humbled and deepened and
amazed by the power and the mystery of Love. Blessed be. ♥
(*The trial for permanent guardianship of my mom has been moved to mid-November. Until then, she remains at this time in Michigan. Continued prayers are appreciated.)
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