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Mother's Day

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By the time I completed my two-week stay at the Naikan center, my relationship with my mom was forever changed. It's not that I became a model son or built her a home on the Riviera. It's just that my memory was a bit more complete and my image of her was different. I could rarely talk with her on the phone without remembering some of the excavated memories from Japan. And those memories included my own mistreatment of her as a child and adolescent. They included my own ingratitude toward her for what she had done for me.

Now that I am married I have a chance to witness my wife caring for my daughter in many of the same ways I was cared for. It's a kind of déjà vu Naikan reflection on my own mother. And my father. Now that I am on the other end, I have a much better sense of what kind of energy, time, inconvenience, and love it takes to care for a child who is completely dependent on the world for everything. Come to think of it, that's still a pretty good description of me. The mother that raised me lives far away, but her role has been assumed by others, by my wife, my friends, my teachers, the supermarket, the garden, the people who make fresh apple cider down the road, and the person I call when I can't get the computer to work. I'm still mothered. I'm still cared for. But there was one woman who got me started as a seedling and made sure I was firmly rooted until I could transplant myself. She deserves to be remembered for all the tedious, unexciting things she did for me. As my way of honoring your service, Mom, I plan to fold some laundry today.

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~ Mountain of Youth~

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