I’m thinking about  the Indian blessing Namaste.  And I’m also thinking about moms (it is, after all, Mother’s Day).  I even, for a very brief moment, considered naming this post Na-mama-ste. 

Na-mama-ste.  *closing eyes and shaking head at self*

I had lunch with a friend (let’s call her Storm, like her husband does–I’ll introduce you later.) yesterday (after backing out of a facial piercing–another story). Somehow, the discussion eventually turned to the inherent good of each person–that is always there (somewhere), and it benefits us all to recognize it in others. 

We congratulated ourselves on our highly evolved thinking, then proceeded to sing Kumbaya while holding hands and burning incense on our heads.  I’m just kidding. 

Namaste.  Yes, the bowing thing you do at the end of a yoga session.  Do you know what it means?  One translation, attributed to Deepak Chopra (even he is on Twitter!  come onnnnn….) is this: “I honor the Spirit in you which is also in me.”  I love the translations of Namaste.  I get all giddy and geeky about it.  The concept of bowing to the light or divinity of another, while recognizing the connection–that same light or divinity or Spirit within yourself…  Oooh, hoo hoo.  Good stuff.

But.  It’s crap if you don’t believe it.  And, there are so many people that make it really really hard for anyone else to recognize that Divine Spark.

“I’m sure his mother loves him.”  There it is!  My Mother’s Day tie-in.

Hercules’ mom says this often.  She will interrupt any negative gossip with some version of what the object-of-gossip’s mother would think.  And it’s true–there is no better example of unconditional human love than that of a mother.  No matter what, your mother always loves you.

She knows–we know–that Divine Spark.  We mothers know it is there in our children.  With the exception of a few questionable moments of tantrum, we know.  We were in awe of it at the moment of their birth.  We have been well-acquainted with their innocence, taken pride in their potential, shared that intense connection of Spirit.

So, take the wisdom of Hercules’ mom, and keep it in your pocket for a not-so-tolerant day.

And I bow to you.  Namaste.  I’m sure your mother loves you.

I am standing in the kitchen.  Laptop is on the counter.  Almost 18-month-old is asleep on left shoulder.  I am typing with my right hand.  I am getting good at it.

I cannot put her down.

I.  Cannot.  Put.  Her.  Down. 

She is heavy (but so soft and snuggly).  She is spoiled and killing my back (but saving me from doing the dishes!).  I have phone calls to make (but she is my excuse to laze around the internet). 

And I’ve only just realized that this new blog has no pictures of her!  “That is something we shall have to remedy.”  Braveheart.  I think.

from August, poor little file just sitting in my folder, being ignored:

From last week.  She was on my lap.  See above for related un-put-down-able talk, in case you missed it.

Hm.  Another prodigy in the house.  What to do?

Ahhh.  That’s better!

Clouds

 clouds rushing by me

storms and rain rush out of them

high up in the sky

Rushing Water

watch water rushing

see it flow smoothly

is it beautiful

Trees

trees can be helpful

and very beautiful too

we need to keep them

The Leaf

the leaf fell for me

so delicate and pretty

it made me smile

The Caterpillar

moving very slow

but fast for me creeping and

crawling on wood

…just a few haikus KiKi wrote in the van the other day.  And yeah, that’s her throwing the glove.  They’ve been playing baseball together, all four of them, plus whatever neighbor punks join in.  It’s so cute!

Until they start throwing the ball at each other.  Or the glove.  Or the bat.  Then it’s not so cute.