I came to the bedroom door and saw the woman, the crone, the life resting on a chair.
Fragile, smiling, wrinkled.
Hands of work and healing. There. She was there.
i was there.
The root of love lies in the centre of our bodies.
The centre that we find at that moment. It can be your heart, your pelvis, your head, your shoulder, your face, your throat, your eyes.
The body. The physical.
Your centre is what you make it be.
The love for my mother grew when I was sixteen and a half years old. I had been raised by my grandmother while my mother spent her days and years working out of town as a rural nurse for the government.
I have two mothers: Maria de Jesus and Dolores Isidora.
Maria de Jesus. A shaman, a tailor, a cook, a farmer, a tough woman. a loving kindness tough woman. the Matriarch of our home. my grandmother.
From her I learned to cook by watching, to pluck chickens with tears in my eyes -“why do we have to eat Bertha the mama hen?”- to saw with my eyes the neighbours dresses, to make shoes with my extended hands; my grandmother’s.
Maria de Jesus, the mother love.
Dolores Isidora. The mother, the worker, the nurse, the unknown woman, the silent one, the tough one, the Cancer astro sign full of hidden tears and fears.
From her I learned to cry, to dance a tango on her feet at birthday parties, to see what sacrifice was like, to know what I didn’t want in my life, to work hard with minimal or no reward, to be strong in our dreams of a new fence or a new dress that never arrived…but we dreamed it together.
Dolores Isidora, the mother grace.
People were staring at us hug and tears flowing from my eyes on her cheek. It had been five years since I last touched those soft cheeks and wrinkled hands.
The root of love lies within you and outside you. Sometimes we see it and feel it all at once, sometimes in pieces, in minutes, in hours, in seconds, in dreams, in thoughts.
But it is there. It is here. Touch your chest and feel your heart, the flowing blood in your veins. Touch your back and feel the backbone, the root chakra, the base of your fears and love, of your sense of worth. Is is there still? Is is strong like a backbone should be? Love it. Be it. Feel it. It is you.
The root of love lies within you and outside you. Sometimes is gone for a bit, or a while, or a lifetime. But it is there. Feel it. Sense it. Touch it. BE it.
In everything we do, in everything we are, we express the love of our mothers, our ancestors. We are particles of that universe called mother and father.
I am particles of Dolores Isidora and Maria de Jesus.
They are the root of love – Mother Love and Grace.