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.

higher purpose and connected to the inherent
At the end they threw in “and learn to be kind to myself, as well.” And I thought maybe they have it backwards. Being kind to yourself is the first step to repairing our disconnect to others. Our connection to others is a way of connecting to the loving power of the universe. Learning to be kind to ourselves is the first step toward living in grace. And when we fall out of grace, the remedy is to increase the love for ourselves. We boycott the self recrimination. Beating ourselves up feels like we are guiding ourselves back into alignment, but is only bad self-parenting. It is actually closing ourselves off to our own loving heart, which is the generative power of creation. The remedy is to rekindle the fire of kindness.

make us feel, attacking them, or distancing ourselves from them, only makes problems worse. Emotions are unavoidable. They are an expression of being human. Learning to work with them requires patience and acceptance.
like a conversation with my broken heart. Feeling the breath – in – out – in – connects us to ourselves. In the midst of our grief we can make a commitment to ourselves to stay here with our feelings for as long as it takes. Grief can stay in our system for years. This need not be disheartening. If we stop struggling with grief, and make friends with it, we have an energy that allows us to evoke empathy and compassion. There is a saying “may I never outrun my heartbreak.” Our heartbreak keeps us human. In a world that pulls us into competition and materialism remembering our pain is how to stay human. This is so important to our spiritual growth. Rather than getting rid of our grief we can take the very brave step of becoming one with it.
Patience is like a welcome mat to the gateways of life. We have moments in which different karmic streams seem to converge. Equally frustrating is their opposite, when nothing seems to move at all. Yet while the clash
In his Dharma Art teachings, Trunga, Rinpoche referred to the principle of “square one” as the idea of interrupting the momentum of our karmic streams. We come back to square one and begin fresh. These interruptions are anathema to ego, as egoic mind thrives on blind momentul. When we’re on a roll every interruption feels like a great annoyance. Likewise, when we are panicked and fighting for survival, we are driven to act and we hate the idea of waiting. And fairly, sometimes we don’t have a lot of time to wait, but we always have a moment to stop, breathe and return to the present. This reboot may be all we need to resynchronize and act from wakefulness. To those well-trained in meditation, patience might be a moment to breathe and reboot. But the training might require months of rest and learning to wait. Whatever it takes to begin to learn to give ourselves a break and get off our own backs. Pema calls this “learning to stay.” Sakyong Mipham refers to this as taking your seat and ruling your world. The patient monarch has created the space to see all the options available. Patience is the mat on that ground. Patience is the landing point.
DOUBT
I’ve been planning on writing this post for years. Recently, my notes have been 
