[Advaita-l] On Mother
kuntimaddi sadananda via Advaita-l
advaita-l at lists.advaita-vedanta.org
Sun May 11 14:35:41 CDT 2014
PraNAms to all.
Today is mothers day. It is difficult to write or talk about mother whom Scriptures recognize as the first God on earth. Here is what I tried to express on mother and posting as reverence to all mothers of all beings.
On My Mother
How can I talk about the greatness of the mother - I have never been one.
I can only talk about the greatness of my mother who carried me for nine months without any complaints, helped me to grow from a single cell to become a recognizable form with little heart and face and limbs to move about, a form that can be recognized as human being, by feeding her own food, and when I came out helplessly, taking care of me gently as though I am a flower without hurting my neck, feeding me gently with her milk with all her love and in the process helping me to grow. How can I talk about my mother who always kept me clean washing me from all the filth and dirt, dressing me and holding me close to her heart when I am afraid of the rest of the world? How can I talk about my mother who helped me to sit down and enjoyed every sound I make, every movement I made, every smile I had and every step I took, holding me, guiding me, making me to repeat the words and making me to talk, making me to eat, making me to sleep so that I can get rest,
preparing me to become independent of her too. How can I write about my mother who was there anytime I need, who was there to correct me when I made mistakes, who had infinite patience to tolerate all my faults and help me to grow; how can I talk about my mother who was ready to make things I like, even though she herself was sick and do not have the energy to take the strain of the daily chores. How can I write of my mother who was ready to wipe my tears and make me smile whenever I am in despair and when I did not know whether there is a light at the end of the tunnel? How can I write about my mother who helped me to learn the little nurseries with dance and music, the first slokas that she herself learned from her mother, the little games to make me happy, dressing me to go to school, anxiously waiting for me when I come back from my school so that she can hug me and take me in her fold and feed me what I need with love and affection; How can I write
about my mother who was happy that I am graduating with honors yet worried how I am going to manage myself when I leave home to go far away from her for higher studies, How can I write of my mother who was making my favorite dishes, and feeding me as though I was starving all these days when I was away from her, when I return home during the few days of my vacation; how can I write about my mother who does not think I have grown enough to take care of myself and still concerned whether I am eating properly, sleeping properly, whether I am taking care of my health, and at the same time expecting me to eat everything I like. How can I write about my mother who was herself a role model for me showing how to be patient, how to be compassionate, how to help others in spite her own inability to help herself, how to be devoted to that Lord who has given everything abundantly, what I need even without asking, and still tolerate when I proclaim without
understanding that there is no God here, and whatever I have accomplished is due to my own hard work.
I do not know Who is God? How does he or she looks like? Where He is? And How to approach Him? Now, to come to think of it, I know it now, He looks exactly like my mother, with the same smile and same compassion and waiting for me so that He can take me to His fold and hold me tight to his embrace. I think He just took the form of my mother, just to take care of me.
No, It is difficult for me to write about her – All I have is just outpouring tears with no words to express for the abundant love I received from her even without my asking.
There is nothing I can offer to my mother, that is not her’s, since what I am now and what I have now are all because of her; all I can offer that really belongs to me are these prayerful tears of gratitude.
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