Yesterday was Mother’s Day. I’m missing my mother. Trudy was an angel and someone who loved me unconditionally. Each mother’s day seems to echo in the silence of her absence. Yet, my promise to her is to develop my heart to love as hers did. With that view, it’s not helpful to wallow in my sadness. The root of our meditation training, points to the possibility of holding our hearts open even as they break.
Yesterday was the anniversary of the racially motivated shootings in Buffalo. And if that tragedy takes a moment to mentally reboot, perhaps it says a lot about the morbid new normal we’ve come to live with. And I am moved to think of the mothers who have lost children in senseless gun violence that plagues our homes, neighborhoods and schools. And all mothers who have loved unconditionally despite their loss. We live in a difficult and violent society that nonetheless needs our love and attention.
The Mahayana Buddhist teachings liken compassion to the experience of a mother bird who’s chick has fallen from its nest into a flowing river. Her heart breaks with no recourse but to love and experience loss. When faced with tragedy she could shut down in a vain attempt to protect herself, or she could open up despite the pain and care for the life still around her. Her reason for being is the life that depends on her. Of course, this is an ideal look at a mother. Many have had complicated relationships with their mothers and some may not equate their mother with selfless care and love. But the experience of compassionate love is available to us all. We can’t fix anything. But we can train ourselves to love someone somewhere unconditionally. With that foothold we can work to develop that feeling of love for all sentient beings. That is the view. But, will this help? Will it fix a sick world? Maybe not. But when a child is sick we don’t love it less. If the child dies, we don’t stop loving them.
Our hearts breaking inthe open space of sadness is a profound experience. The Mahayana Buddhist system regards service to the world as our prime directive despite our pain. We are not here to squeeze all the joy out of life that we can. Nor are we here to continually nurture our wounds. Healing comes as we learn to find joy in our broken world as it is. We find authentic joy when we remain true and loving despite our wounds. We become strong when we stay true and loving despite our doubts. We become mothers of the world when we decide to let ourselves love unconditionally.
Another ideal statement of Mahayana Buddhism is for us to regard all beings as our mothers. The classical reading of the teachings refer to the fact that we are all part of the continued recycling of life in our realm. The ancient texts say that we have lived every conceivable life countless times over. Included in that reincarnative dance was that all of us have been everyone else’s mother and because of that, we owe all beings a debt of gratitude. A more progressive reading of the teachings might suggest that we are all part of the loving regeneration of life. We are interconnectedly woven as part of the fabric of life. Although life dies in its corporeal form, it is connected to the life from which it came even as it continues in the regeneration of life to come. The idea that we are connected to all other life is a very compelling thought. The fact that all life ends is accompanied by the truth that life is continually reborn. Thus sadness and joy are the experience of all sentient life. Love is large enough to encompass both. Love encompasses all experience.
Perhaps we are mothers of our world right now. If we turn away in judgement or disgust, we renege on a responsibility to care for our charges. As we are interconnected to that life, when we turn from our world, we turn from ourselves as well. Maybe today, we can remember the love of a mother whether literally or figuratively as an inspiration for developing selfless love. Will that selfless love change the world? Possibly not. But with the development of great compassion, we might transform ourselves.