|
HOME
Current Articles
Publishers Page
Astrology
Numerology
Moon Calendar
About Us
Preferred Web Listings
Advertise in Aquarius
BIG Psychic Fair
Article Archives
FlipBook Archives
Cover Art Gallery
Subscribe
Contact Us
|
|
Aquarius Article Archive
Mother
By:
Published: May 2005 I was raised in Louisiana in a particularly Catholic parish, went to an all girls' school, cheerleader, nuns, you get the picture. I was always drawn to the feminine side of Catholicism, the saints and to Mother Mary in particular.
I went to NYU, graduated in Broadcast Journalism and Spanish Lit. I headed to Los Angeles to work as a program director for a new cable channel, got married, divorced and re-married. I had two kids, a beautiful home in the Hollywood Hills, travel, dinners, friends, soccer, black ties.
I co-founded an elementary school, made a documentary, got my homeopathic license, got a master gardeners' degree, set up gardens in housing projects and worked with incarcerated youth.
I was active, happy, healthy. I loved my family, my friends, my life. I didn't notice that I was drowning a little more each day in that dull ache that you feel when you wake up in the middle of the night or when you hold still long enough to feel it.
A friend from Seattle came to visit and asked me to drive her to an afternoon appointment. On the way over she explained she was going to see a medium who channeled Mother Mary. At this point in my life I had seen and heard it all. After all I had been living in LA-LA land for the last 25 years. I wasn't a complete cynic. I even had a statue of Mary in my house that my grandmother gave me, but I definitely was not interested in seeing a channel.
I offered to stay in the car but she insisted I could wait inside. We knocked on the door. I expected to step into a shrine with Middle-Eastern music playing and be greeted by someone wrapped in blue scarves. I was surprised to see this bright-faced young woman who introduced herself as Danielle and invited us into her home.
I sat on the far end of the sofa hoping to be invisible. Danielle sat in a wing-backed chair across from my friend, closed her eyes, breathed deeply and was transformed within minutes into an older woman with a thick Greco-Roman accent, a cross between Sophia Loren and Melina Mercouri. The room settled, seemed quieter, deeper.
I kept checking my watch pretending not to be there, just catching glimpses out of the corner of my eye. My friend, warmly and without trepidation, greeted this new arrival, Mary. “And how are you, beloved?” The question floated in the room for what seemed like an eternity. I then knew she had seen me. I flushed and spoke in my raised well, slightly formal, not interested voice, “Very well, thank you.”
I felt completely seen inside and out in that moment. I had only experienced that with one other person, my mother in law, who had been my best friend and had died many years before. I feel it is rare to be seen, truly seen, and accepted.
Mary had the demeanor of a wise grandmother, a loving mother, a playful aunt or sister. I had the feeling there wasn't a thing I could say or do that would perturb her, disappoint her. She had a deep patience.
I admit I was mildly curious about half way through my friend's appointment. At the end, she asked me if I had a question. I had the feeling she knew my question before I did. My father was dying of cancer. He and I had been estranged for years, we had unfinished business. I didn't want to go into details. She offered a deep understanding of our relationship and shone light on the opportunity for growth and reconciliation. Healing felt possible for the first time in many years. It's the old snake and stick story. At night it must be a poisonous snake and in the morning light it is a harmless stick. I flew to Louisiana to see my Dad before he died. The trip was a miracle. I was able to tell him everything that had happened between us and he was able to listen, to take responsibility and apologize.
I went back to see Mary the following week. She leaned forward, took my hands, held my eyes with hers and asked, “Are you ready, my dear, to do the work?” Surprisingly, I was. What is the work? The work is learning to be fully human, feet on the ground, heart open, and honest with yourself and others. It's the willingness to climb into the small dark spaces inside you and your relationships and take responsibility. I have worked with Mother for 5 years, sometimes in person, sometimes in the quiet inside. My once skeptical children and husband have worked with her as well. She has been unerringly present, patient, loving. She is my Mother.
- Daphne Chapman
(Daphne Chapman is a writer living in Los Angeles with her husband and two children.)
| |
Call 770.641.9055
while this space lasts!
To place YOUR AD HERE, call 770.641.9055.
|
|
