Loving self, loving mom
Dear journal,
“May you dwell in the open heart
May you be free of suffering
May you be healed
May you know your deepest joy, your greatest peace”
The above lines are from Stephen Levine's guidance on loving-kindness practice. During my meditation practice this morning, well before our sun's anticipated arising, thoughts of my mom arose. And so I invited an image of her into my heart, into the embrace of the practice. I had begun the practice with myself, inviting myself into the spacious warmth of my own heartspace, into that healing room. And after spending considerable time doing that, there was ample room for my mom to nestle alongside me.
It's been more than 14 years since her suicide. As traumatic and obliterating as that initially was, I think of her with great ease now. There's been a variety of levels to arriving at this semblance of peace, and I suppose I'm still in a way just on another level. I remember the initial shock, it was a thick blanket protecting me from annihilation. Threads of shock remained for months and years, but they gradually thinned. A universal anger accomplished some thinning, as did a search for answers that took me to police stations and talks with loved ones and books and employment at a psychiatric hospital. Of course I desperately wanted the solace that comes with understanding, but I thankfully realized, after exhausting my efforts, that full understanding would remain elusive, and I would have to find solace elsewhere.
I remember that I stumbled upon a way to access the torrents of sadness and tears, and it happened to be through weeks of sitting alone on my bed watching episode after episode of the reality show about addiction called “Intervention.” Somehow getting inside their and their family’s pain and tragedy permitted me access to my own, and it helped me cry and cry. Through this, and of course many other experiences, including working with people who have severe depression, I eventually arrived at a kind of acceptance about the path my mom chose. And from acceptance, peace.
I've been practicing caring for others for it feels like my entire life. In part, it feels like an inheritance from my mom. The broadening of perspective, the liberation from narrow views, the warmth of bonding and compassion are some of the wonders of acts of service. But too often that path is characterized as one of self-sacrifice, and romanticized as being pure and selfless. A toxicity accumulates when self-care is neglected, made more challenging when we're taught to believe that caring for yourself is selfish, that love for self is conceit.
Stephen Levine writes of regarding yourself like your own precious child. Unconditional love of self. There's lots of reasons why we're resistant to that idea, why I notice resistance to it in myself. Not to mention the actual practice of it! And I guess that's why it feels like the deeper practice for me, the deeper healing. We took birth to be loved, needed it even before our first breaths. I was born to be loved, I can feel that real as anything. And I can give it to myself, practice residing in my own heart. Only then can I really be with others whom I invite here.