Zen Mamas

A poem to acknowledge the sacred work of parenthood, intended to honor the steadfast efforts of those who raise young children. This poem draws parallels between monastic training and motherhood, as both are steeped in sacrifice and spiritual growth.

Transcript

The world is filled with Zen masters who live outside monastery walls.

We color mandalas with sidewalk chalk.

We ring meditation bells of rainbow-colored xylophones.

Our mantras are the stories we read with ego-melting repetition.

We hold asanas with babies in and on our bodies,

Going about our day as if our muscles are not on fire,

Not letting on how our bones beg for rest.

After enlightenment,

We cook dinner and fold the laundry.

We pull energy from the depths of our fatigue.

Our life is one continuous act of service.

We practice breath work by blowing bubbles,

Exhaling with artful control to get the most out of each dip of the wand.

Our ascetic practices include eating the food scraps offered by our toddlers and what our babies throw on the ground,

Making meals out of bread crusts and apple peels.

We nourish young lives with our bodies.

With discernment,

We are creators,

Preservers,

And destroyers.

Embodying eternal love,

We are one with the universal life force.

Though we may not wear saffron robes or have the luxury of sitting in quiet contemplation,

We are here,

Humbly filling the world with Zen master mamas.

Reviews

This gave me chills. Thank you for sharing it.

Would be a beautiful gift for new for mothers , would love to hear it with a background in music repeated over and over. This is something I needed. Thankful I’ve hear it now and can revisit my mind and listen to the poem over with my past visions of motherhood 💗thank you💫