I am copying this over from Hopeful World .org
This rings so true for me; I am blessed to have not only a wonderful relationship with my own mother, but also with my children -- and yet I have many around me for whom this is not the case. Mothering -- and Mothers' Day -- is about feeling our feelings and living not despite but because of the multifaceted people we are. It's about being real, and this beautiful post sure speaks to that! Thank you, Jen Lemen, for your wonderful writing.
http://hopefulworld.org/blog/in-case-mothers-day-is-hard-for-you/
Let’s be real. Mother’s Day can completely blow sometimes.
You want to be cheerful. You want to be with the program. But some
years there are all these little points of pain that will not go away.
The baby you never had.
The one you gave up.
The kid you lost to something bigger than you.
The child that slipped away before you ever held her.
The one that was never born.
The one you worry you’re failing.
The one that failed you.
The mother who’s so close and yet so far.
The one you loved so much who couldn’t love you back.
The one you could never love because it hurt too much.
The one you lost too soon.
The one who is slipping away.
The one you can never please.
The one you wish you could live up to.
There are no cards to honor these children or these mothers. There
are no holidays to contain all the parts of you that fall outside the
lines of generally understood sorrow or celebration.
But there is this moment, this incredible moment, where you can feel
it all. Where for once you can’t stuff it down or forget it. Where you
have to be with it, because it is not going away.
And here, my friends, is where something important happens. This is where we connect, where we understand we are frail, where we are human. Where we see in new ways what life means. Where we are issued a compelling and persistent invitation
to mother ourselves. To cut ourselves the breaks we didn’t get. To ask
for the help we always needed. To let tears come and say, This is how it
is. I’ll ask in this one tiny moment, for the courage I need to let everything just be.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
Thoughts
In my work creating and touring the MAMA Project, I’ve had the
opportunity to interview, paint, and speak with hundreds of
mothers about the significance of our role, and the importance of
our awareness of that significance. I have spoken with mothers,
grandmothers and great-grandmothers of many varied descriptions. I
have recorded countless hours of their memories, fears, and
dreams; have held them while they cried and have laughed with them
until our jaws ached. I’ve had my own mothering validated in the
knowledge that the wisdom and regrets we share as mothers are
somehow beyond words, but also in the absolute certainty that our
knowledge must be shared.
So in reaching for that sharing space; in attempting to support each other and - even more difficult - to be supported, ourselves, we talk about EVERYTHING. Yes of course I mean EVERYTHING: pee, poop, menstrual woes and accidents, the intricate details of rash pustules, infestations, and abnormalities on our children’s (and husbands’!) bodies, the things we think are hilarious and the things that bring us unfathomable horror. We share these things because it’s in the sharing of these things that we learn to mother. And because these conversations are like study groups for working through the memories from our own first mothering courses: our being mothered, ourselves. And grand-mothered. And somewhere in the sharing we usually are reminded that we are the grandmothers, ourselves; that our children’s, our grandchildren’s, our great-grandchildren’s futures are being written in the things we carry down from our own ancestry.
We joke about how so-and-so’s son swears just like his Mama, and how our neighbour’s 3-year-old has the same nervous hand-gestures her aunt does. But these things are no joke. They can teach our kids all they want in school; at Brownies and Scouts; in University, even, but the lessons our kids learned when they were 18 months old and spitting food in our faces - those are the lessons that will determine the outcomes of all the others. Did we smile with compassion at those orange blobs flying towards us and tenderly wipe them off our faces and back into baby’s mouth? Did we shout? Did we roll our eyes in disgust? Did we hit our child or congratulate her? The answer probably depends greatly on what we experienced, ourselves, when we were 18 months old and spitting food at our mothers’ faces. And it determines how our children will respond to their own children, too. And when our children go out in the world to learn from others, how will they then make use of those learning experiences? Well that, of course, depends on how they‘ve watched us learn, in our lives. These are the mechanics of inheritance and legacy. The way we argue with our husbands in front of the children, or hide away (they children will know, regardless), whether we resolve things or sweep them under the carpet, and the way we help the kids figure out their issues? Yeah. Those are the mechanics of peace for the next generations.
And when we’re aware of this - just how deeply important our every action is to our children’s future, and to the culture they will inherit and build upon - then it becomes essential that we assess and reassess our every decision and action. And we do that by sharing.
~~~~~~~
you told me you lost her before you were old enough to know the meaning of mother
you told me you lost her before she was old
enough to be born
you said she abandoned you
said you abandoned her
hated her
you told me your love knew no boundaries but she couldn’t hear
you
you broke her trust and you
still cling to her
you wanted him to grow up strong and brave
gentle
you wanted to protect him but now you’re eighty six
and you still cook his meals
drive him to work
you wanted him to know he was wanted
you wanted to be wanted, yourself
you wanted him to let go
and you wanted never to let him go
you wanted her to grow up strong
independent
kind
you wanted to help her
raise her babies, but
she doesn’t know herself
a mother
she carries you
in her pocket
like a pill
you wanted her to know she was wanted
you wanted to be wanted, yourself
you wanted her to let go
and you wanted never to let her go
to mothers
I’ve listened to
comforted
cried to
to you who have given up
given up hope
your children, even
and given up your dreams
yourselves
your fears
for all you have given up was not in vain
to mothers who have lost something
someone
everything
hope
your children, even
yourselves
for all you have lost was not unfound
to you
for giving
forgiving
giving
everything
you have
and are
and know
to you
to us
to knowing
our work is rewarded in knowing
that we have the blessed occupation
~~~~~~~
There is nothing particularly special about me. I am like billions of other people in the world: I am a mother.
And yet,
I am a mother.
I hold the lives of my children in my hands, on my breath I validate their dreams, and my intentions and mistakes determine their futures and their children’s futures. Retail, investment and service industries market to me; my interest is a hot commodity. And yet I have very few real resources, because those industries don’t benefit from my triumphs; they benefit from my needs.
You know who benefits from my triumphs? My children. Your children. Our children’s children. Every single generation to come benefits from every single time I get it right. And that makes it imperative that I take my job seriously and get it right.
We need to take responsibility for our children! As our children soak up every word we say; every hand-gesture, every movement of eyes and facial expression, are we living the life we want them to emulate? How many of us just sit back and allow our kids to play games (online and otherwise) without engaging them in conversation about what they are playing, and the ramifications of it? When my children asked me what rape was, I told them. We talk about wars, and politics, and sex and drugs and mental illness. We pause movies and games when things need to be explained, and my kids soak up the explanations (and questions) sometimes with more enthusiasm than the media itself. I can't stop them from participating in what is now popular culture, and if I did, they'd only want it more. But I can lead by example, and so can you. We all can. We have to. It's our responsibility. We didn't bear our children out of necessity; we chose this path because we love children. And children grow to be adults, to inherit our world, and to have more children, themselves. So it's our responsibility to raise them with integrity and awareness, that they go into the world full of questions and willing to look around, but also with a conviction to find their own truths and their own right paths.
There is no time to waste. And the smallest things make a difference; the random comments from my children remind me of this. My daughter once said, "I can't wait until I grow up so I can have pimples and wear cover-up, too!" My son said "I hope my wife doesn't think I want her to shave herself. That wouldn't be nice of me." Once my daughter reprimanded her father for some grammatical mistake and then turned to me with pride in her eyes. Oh no - did I teach her that? Of course I did! And it will take a lifetime to undo. Not everything we pass on is what we hope for. It matters very much not only that we lead by example, but also that we teach our children - from birth - that their own opinions and questions matter; that any question is valid, but that we also don‘t have all the answers. It's important that we reach for the best possible version of ourselves, because that will be the standard our children measure themselves against, and it will effect every single generation to come.
It is not OK for us to condemn violent video games but to watch violent movies, ourselves, or to wish death on politicians, talk trash and laugh about the emotional trauma of celebrities. It's not OK for us to practice attachment parenting but escape our children for a night at the bar. When they find us in the morning and discover that sour old booze smell on our breath they will learn that that is the smell of being with friends, and all the threats in the world won't take that lesson away from them when they're 14 and their friends are offering them cheap vodka under a bridge. It's not OK for us to tell them to be nice to each other, but to put our own community members down, to gossip, and to blame. Our children will learn more from our acknowledgement of our mistakes, and the lessons they’ve watched us learn than they will from the threats and consequences we’ve doled out to them.
We are mothers, and our demonstrated values and behaviour are the greatest teachers our children will ever have. We are mothers! We must take the importance of this incredible occupation very seriously, because there is nobody who can make a bigger change than we can, in choosing how we raise each new generation.
So in reaching for that sharing space; in attempting to support each other and - even more difficult - to be supported, ourselves, we talk about EVERYTHING. Yes of course I mean EVERYTHING: pee, poop, menstrual woes and accidents, the intricate details of rash pustules, infestations, and abnormalities on our children’s (and husbands’!) bodies, the things we think are hilarious and the things that bring us unfathomable horror. We share these things because it’s in the sharing of these things that we learn to mother. And because these conversations are like study groups for working through the memories from our own first mothering courses: our being mothered, ourselves. And grand-mothered. And somewhere in the sharing we usually are reminded that we are the grandmothers, ourselves; that our children’s, our grandchildren’s, our great-grandchildren’s futures are being written in the things we carry down from our own ancestry.
We joke about how so-and-so’s son swears just like his Mama, and how our neighbour’s 3-year-old has the same nervous hand-gestures her aunt does. But these things are no joke. They can teach our kids all they want in school; at Brownies and Scouts; in University, even, but the lessons our kids learned when they were 18 months old and spitting food in our faces - those are the lessons that will determine the outcomes of all the others. Did we smile with compassion at those orange blobs flying towards us and tenderly wipe them off our faces and back into baby’s mouth? Did we shout? Did we roll our eyes in disgust? Did we hit our child or congratulate her? The answer probably depends greatly on what we experienced, ourselves, when we were 18 months old and spitting food at our mothers’ faces. And it determines how our children will respond to their own children, too. And when our children go out in the world to learn from others, how will they then make use of those learning experiences? Well that, of course, depends on how they‘ve watched us learn, in our lives. These are the mechanics of inheritance and legacy. The way we argue with our husbands in front of the children, or hide away (they children will know, regardless), whether we resolve things or sweep them under the carpet, and the way we help the kids figure out their issues? Yeah. Those are the mechanics of peace for the next generations.
And when we’re aware of this - just how deeply important our every action is to our children’s future, and to the culture they will inherit and build upon - then it becomes essential that we assess and reassess our every decision and action. And we do that by sharing.
~~~~~~~
you told me you lost her before you were old enough to know the meaning of mother
you told me you lost her before she was old
enough to be born
you said she abandoned you
said you abandoned her
hated her
you told me your love knew no boundaries but she couldn’t hear
you
you broke her trust and you
still cling to her
you wanted him to grow up strong and brave
gentle
you wanted to protect him but now you’re eighty six
and you still cook his meals
drive him to work
you wanted him to know he was wanted
you wanted to be wanted, yourself
you wanted him to let go
and you wanted never to let him go
you wanted her to grow up strong
independent
kind
you wanted to help her
raise her babies, but
she doesn’t know herself
a mother
she carries you
in her pocket
like a pill
you wanted her to know she was wanted
you wanted to be wanted, yourself
you wanted her to let go
and you wanted never to let her go
to mothers
I’ve listened to
comforted
cried to
to you who have given up
given up hope
your children, even
and given up your dreams
yourselves
your fears
for all you have given up was not in vain
to mothers who have lost something
someone
everything
hope
your children, even
yourselves
for all you have lost was not unfound
to you
for giving
forgiving
giving
everything
you have
and are
and know
to you
to us
to knowing
our work is rewarded in knowing
that we have the blessed occupation
~~~~~~~
There is nothing particularly special about me. I am like billions of other people in the world: I am a mother.
And yet,
I am a mother.
I hold the lives of my children in my hands, on my breath I validate their dreams, and my intentions and mistakes determine their futures and their children’s futures. Retail, investment and service industries market to me; my interest is a hot commodity. And yet I have very few real resources, because those industries don’t benefit from my triumphs; they benefit from my needs.
You know who benefits from my triumphs? My children. Your children. Our children’s children. Every single generation to come benefits from every single time I get it right. And that makes it imperative that I take my job seriously and get it right.
We need to take responsibility for our children! As our children soak up every word we say; every hand-gesture, every movement of eyes and facial expression, are we living the life we want them to emulate? How many of us just sit back and allow our kids to play games (online and otherwise) without engaging them in conversation about what they are playing, and the ramifications of it? When my children asked me what rape was, I told them. We talk about wars, and politics, and sex and drugs and mental illness. We pause movies and games when things need to be explained, and my kids soak up the explanations (and questions) sometimes with more enthusiasm than the media itself. I can't stop them from participating in what is now popular culture, and if I did, they'd only want it more. But I can lead by example, and so can you. We all can. We have to. It's our responsibility. We didn't bear our children out of necessity; we chose this path because we love children. And children grow to be adults, to inherit our world, and to have more children, themselves. So it's our responsibility to raise them with integrity and awareness, that they go into the world full of questions and willing to look around, but also with a conviction to find their own truths and their own right paths.
There is no time to waste. And the smallest things make a difference; the random comments from my children remind me of this. My daughter once said, "I can't wait until I grow up so I can have pimples and wear cover-up, too!" My son said "I hope my wife doesn't think I want her to shave herself. That wouldn't be nice of me." Once my daughter reprimanded her father for some grammatical mistake and then turned to me with pride in her eyes. Oh no - did I teach her that? Of course I did! And it will take a lifetime to undo. Not everything we pass on is what we hope for. It matters very much not only that we lead by example, but also that we teach our children - from birth - that their own opinions and questions matter; that any question is valid, but that we also don‘t have all the answers. It's important that we reach for the best possible version of ourselves, because that will be the standard our children measure themselves against, and it will effect every single generation to come.
It is not OK for us to condemn violent video games but to watch violent movies, ourselves, or to wish death on politicians, talk trash and laugh about the emotional trauma of celebrities. It's not OK for us to practice attachment parenting but escape our children for a night at the bar. When they find us in the morning and discover that sour old booze smell on our breath they will learn that that is the smell of being with friends, and all the threats in the world won't take that lesson away from them when they're 14 and their friends are offering them cheap vodka under a bridge. It's not OK for us to tell them to be nice to each other, but to put our own community members down, to gossip, and to blame. Our children will learn more from our acknowledgement of our mistakes, and the lessons they’ve watched us learn than they will from the threats and consequences we’ve doled out to them.
We are mothers, and our demonstrated values and behaviour are the greatest teachers our children will ever have. We are mothers! We must take the importance of this incredible occupation very seriously, because there is nobody who can make a bigger change than we can, in choosing how we raise each new generation.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Photos from Synchronicity Festival in Gibsons
Photos by Justin Samson. What an amazing thing it was to be a part of this spectacular festival!
photos at coast reporter gallery
photos at coast reporter gallery
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The MAMA Project in Gibsons, B.C., this weekend!
With great thanks to Sandy Buck and organisers of the Synchronicity Festival, I am getting ready to install the MAMA Project in Gibsons, B.C. this weekend. The festival promises to be wonderful, so if you're on the Sunshine Coast (or want to travel there!) come say hello and enjoy the festival!
August 25-26th, 2012
Shirley Macey Park
Gibsons, B.C.
11 AM - 6 PM
August 25-26th, 2012
Shirley Macey Park
Gibsons, B.C.
11 AM - 6 PM
Friday, November 18, 2011
Upcoming Portraits
The following are some of the chosen portraits from the US west coast interviewing tour last spring. These will be the photos I work from to paint the next set of bed-linens.
 |
| mother and daughter |
 |
| sisters |
 |
| grandmother and granddaughter |
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Port Townsend
Thanks to the support of many, we're here in Port Townsend, the show is open, and word is beginning to spread. I'm specifically grateful for the support of the following people:
Some photos:
I haven't had many visitors, yet, and have only conducted one interview so far, but among the beautiful comments I've received about the show was the following:
"Lovely and Real! i enjoy the rawness of it - the complication and complexity of this special relationship. it has a similar feeling of realness and rawness as a Glenn Close portrait exhibit I saw a few years ago. Thank - very palpable exhibit." -- Elizabeth, Port Townsend
- Steve and Elaine Bailey, who invited me here, and are providing our accommodation, as well as helping with the various needs of installing the show. We have found kindred spirits in Port Townsend!
- Kate Burke, at Fort Worden State Park, who facilitated our use of the space for the show.
- Phil and Brent of Coast Lumber, in Burlington, WA, who donated the wood for the stands, including milling to to perfection and helping load it on our vehicle while the kids happily watched.
- Lena at the Bowen Building Centre, on Bowen Island, who, when border regulations prevented her donating wood for the show, happily donated the many nuts, bolts and washers needed for the stands, instead.
Some photos:
 |
| Picking up the wood with help from Brent at Coast Lumber. |
 |
| Fort Worden, Building 204. |
 |
| ...up the stairs... |
 |
| The show is installed in an old dorm room, where we can make use of beautiful light from the many windows. |
 |
| |
 |
| Breakfast in the Bailey's house! |
 |
| The children spent many hours exploring Fort Worden while I set up and hosted the show. The Castle on the right is Alexander Castle, built by a Scot for his wife, who then decided she couldn't handle the isolation, and they moved back to town... |
"Lovely and Real! i enjoy the rawness of it - the complication and complexity of this special relationship. it has a similar feeling of realness and rawness as a Glenn Close portrait exhibit I saw a few years ago. Thank - very palpable exhibit." -- Elizabeth, Port Townsend
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Gratitude
The Fort Worden Installation is coming up in 2 weeks, and I have so many people to be thankful for. Kate Burke, of Fort Worden, has been helping me coordinate the event; Phil Simmons of Coast Lumber in Burlington, WA, has not only donated the lumber for the installation-stands, but also given travel advice, and most of all Steve and Elaine Bailey - the couple who initially invited me to Port Townsend - have not only made this event happen, but will also provide us with accommodation for the 6 nights we'll be in Port Townsend.
These gifts are enormous, but the feeling of gratitude comes also from having spoken to many people who have tried - and often been unable - to help. Friendly souls searched their lumber yards for me, inquired into the legal ins and outs of bringing lumber and art one way or the other over the border, advised on travelling, etc. and just generally been supportive, kind, and helpful as I have been running on empty with the management of this project.
Thank you all!!! I'll definitely post photos of the Fort Worden Installation, when I'm back.
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