"That's easy for you to say." you might be saying to yourself. "But when my Mom is flailing around, yelling at me, being very hurtful with her actions and words, how am I supposed to 'see her essence' and not her attitude or personality."
And that is a great question. When, in the moment, how do I acknowledge their "Authentic-Self?"
And this next part may seem like a plug for the school I went to, The University of Santa Monica, where I studied Spiritual Psychology, but honestly, the lessons USM taught me helped in me seeing my mother for who she really is - a scared, little girl, trying to make sense of her ever changing world.
It happened one day, over the phone with my mom. She lives in Texas and I live in Arizona. I had recently heard about her three small strokes and wanted to talk with her, mainly to gage her level of communication skills. They were, as I expected, limited to a small degree. Slightly slurred and choppy.
In the past our conversations have always been "service level." Always about the weather or the Texas Longhorns or family gossip. Nothing, and I mean nothing deep such as feelings or spirituality. And to a degree, somewhere inside me I felt annoyed by this. I longed to have deep and meaningful conversations with my mother. Just one? Just a few words that confirmed I wasn't adopted or found in basket on the stairs. On this day I would apply my learned skills to my mother.
At first the conversation started as simple as it always does.
"So how are ya feelin' ma?"
"Well, I'm tired. It's been really cloudy today. And too windy."
I wasted no time. I applied a skill our teachers taught us at USM where I visualized my "Inner Counselor" centering himself in my body. I can't describe too much of my Inner Counselor to you. But I can tell he is a wise soul and very loving. So, as authentic as possible I responded,
"I hear ya. Mama I want take this moment to acknowledge you for your courage and strength through your entire ordeal."
She paused. I could hear her shallow breath.
"And I also want you to know that you are a great mom."
I don't believe it's ever the words that open a person up. It's the intention. It's in the sincerity of the delivery. It's the inflection and tone that convey the heart. With all of those aspects combined the recipients mind takes a pass at commentary and sends the dialogue straight to the persons heart. There the magic happens. There my mother opened. And it wasn't for very long. I would say it took her 30 to 45 seconds to be as vulnerable as she was going to be with me that day, and maybe the rest of her days. But I heard it. I heard her weep for the very first time. And I heard her, not as her youngest son trying to fix her or the situation or to take blame or feel guilt. But I heard her as one person in pain. As a little girl, angry, confused, hurt. This is what I mean by, "the root essence of the individual." For the first time I heard my mother. A moment I will always cherish.
Since that moment, almost two tears a go, my mother and I have the closet bond we've ever had. Has she changed? No. She still smokes. Eats unhealthy meals. Bickers and gossips over the littlest things. She can never seem to be pleased. But, that's my mother. I know now, she's only working with what she has in her mind. That means she raised me with all the resources she had available to her. I can't hold he accountable. But I can hold myself accountable for my reactions to her. Even with all her little idiosyncrasies, she's mine. All mine. And I would want another mother for the rest of my life.
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