When it comes to my relationship with my mother, it falls into three separate but related books: Part I: I want to be like her; Part II: I am like her; and Part III: I am afraid that I may become her. We cannot deny that, regardless of our relationship with the woman who birthed us into this world, we are forever influenced by her. And her voice, alive or long since silent, sits within our mind and our memory and whispers to us.
My mother has been absent from life for over 9 years. I find that her absence has made her voice more clear, more concise, as I have aged. She begins my day with me, as I wash my face and then she travels with me as I face down my fears and examine my beliefs and intentions. She is with me when I make mistakes and make wrong turns. My mother sings to me when I conquer a challenge or make a great dinner. She is the voice from my ancestors; she is the conquered limitations, she is the fear that can smother the fire of my dream but she is also the Phoenix that pulls me through to a new me.
I know this for certain, that the voice of my mother, when it arises, asks me to look deeply within myself and examine who I am, of what I want to let go, and whom I want to become. While I also know for certain that I am my own person, I also know deep within my heart, that I am a smoldering black pot of all the women who have come before me. I am also a bull horn to the shadow of a future I cannot see nor comprehend. I also know that like my grandmothers and mother before me, I am contributing through my voice, to the cauldron of the future. Together our own unique voices can be a symphony for the change the world longs for.