A Note for Mother’s Day
(with a memory from 2010)
Today is Mother’s Day. And like many of you, I’ve been reflecting – not just on motherhood, but on womanhood in all its dimensions.
In 2010, I wrote a piece called “Tell Me Have You Seen Her…”
I hadn’t re-read it in a while.
But this week, I did.
And I sat with it—to feel what it was reaching for.
Back then, I was listening for something I didn’t yet have full language for.
I was naming Love as Presence.
I was naming Woman as Crown—not just in title, but also in trust.
And I was trying to whisper a sacred memory back into a world that had mostly shouted over it.
I write differently now.
A bit more space.
A little less striving.
But I wouldn’t undo what I said then.
I would just sit beside it—
and say: Yes… keep going.
So today, I want to invite you to read it.
Reflect on it…
As a thread between the voice I had then and the breath I carry now.
As a tribute—not just to mothers, but to the feminine intelligence that holds, births, re-members, restores.
Whether you are a mother,
miss a mother,
mourn a mother,
resist that word,
carry it secretly,
or mother the world in ways no one names—
this is for you.
You are not the weaker vessel.
You are not in constant need of protection.
You are not fragile by design.
You are flower and crown.
You are Sophia.
You are sacred trust.
You are Woman.
And we remember you today.
Tell Me Have You Seen Her (May 2010)
We can get this right. We can live in a world we love to wake up to and that reassures us of our peace as we slumber. We have been told of a Presence, a Being that neither sleeps nor slumbers. The general practice is to call him God but it may be more palatable if we could see this Presence as Love. Could we imagine a world in which none of us finds a legitimate reason to excuse Love from our choosing? The hope for peace is meaningless unless we will concede to Love’s inclination. It is the inclination that never sleeps nor slumbers. She, Love, is always present to gift herself to any moment when there are people just like you willing to recognize her gift.
Could we change the way we see it — the way we see everything? Could we revisit our beginning and attempt a refresh, a rebirth? Can we just be born again? Have you ever wondered why the sacred story used a virgin to introduce the divine? Turn your neck just a little to the left. Lean back ever so slightly. Now tilt your head to the right. This picture is just over your shoulder. It’s been there all along and we’re finally opening our eyes.
Each of us has this common experience in our introduction to humanity. I don’t know where science will lead us or when we might have a plausible way of changing our narrative. As it stands, this phenomenon is inescapable and perhaps underappreciated and malnourished. It is perhaps the most sacred trust offered to any one person — the first voice, the first touch, the first relationship, the first life exchange with the capacity to build a context of consciousness. It is our first human opportunity to find our way to autonomy and to enter a world where we can discover our own beauty and actualize our forgotten divinity. Beautiful is insufficient to capture the appearance.
Enduring does not speak efficiently to the staying power. We cannot revoke this privilege. It is sustained by the power of the Universe. The power of such a life is immutable yet we have built a living narrative on a theme attempting to infer undeniable weakness. She is not the weaker vessel. She is not in constant need of a protector. She is not as fragile as our flirt with romance relentlessly fabricates. She is Sophia, Sacred Feminine, Nefertiti, Goddess, Diana, Theresa, Mary, Mother, Sister, and Daughter. She is the flower and crown of humanity.
She is Woman…
