When we are at our most vulnerable,
When a lover rejects us,
When we are misunderstood by a friend,
When we are at the end of a self-inflicted tailspin or when life delivers yet another unpredictable elbow to the gut,
It is a mother's kind of love that we yearn for.
The mother's love we imagine is as gentle as a leaf falling from a branch to the earth.
It is as tender and sweet as a ripe mango.
The love we so desperately plead for would not judge us but only show us compassion.
This love would sit with us in our pain to let us know we are not alone.
This love would find the parallel pain in its own heart and use it to soothe and solace our own.
This love would tell us that everything is okay and that sometime soon relief will come.
But until then,
I will be here.
The love we imagine is better than hot chocolate.
It is the most comforting thing in the world.
It can lift us out of the deepest caves starved of light and help us find grassy,
Solid ground once more.
This love can remove the shadow of shame instantly with an unspoken word given in an embrace or the clasp of a hand.
This love is not afraid to love you,
But indeed it is its sole purpose.
This love fights to be by your side in times of heartache and peril.
It is never inconvenienced or unwilling.
This love forgives you upon no condition because it knows you are always trying to do your best and that in failing or in not trying at all,
You are still worthy of its adoration and understanding.
It wishes it could shield you from any and all pain,
But it is wise and knows that pain is good for you and that it will help you to grow.
The kind of love we yearn for does not push,
It does not ask too much of us,
It is pure and feels like home.
This love is one we think everyone instinctually understands and so we do not ask for it.
Instead we sit,
Confused,
Wondering why our mother,
Father,
Brother,
Sister,
Our friend is not giving us the love that we know so well.
We know it like we know our own name,
As if this love was defined in a human handbook given to us at birth.
We wonder if this person depriving us of the love threw their handbook away.
No,
They know what they should be doing and are choosing not to,
They are evil and bad and do not belong in our hearts.
But what if they too are sitting down,
Confused,
Yearning for a mother's kind of love from you,
From everyone.
What if we are all just slumped figures sitting on the floor not speaking,
With tiny infants in our hearts,
Reaching out for someone to hold on to.
The kind of love we have spoken about today is never guaranteed from another.
It can't be forcibly taken or unwillingly given,
But you can show it to yourself.
You can be generous with your self-love and withhold nothing,
For if you master a mother's kind of love for yourself,
You will be empowered to give love to others,
And this is the path to abundance.
For it is only when we love ourselves,
Making whole our own soul,
That we can truly be the mate to another's.
When we love ourselves and then love others,
Others can love us.
Finally we can accept their love without doubt or dependency.
When we love ourselves and then love others,
Others can love us.
We can receive the love that was always there,
But that we couldn't trust to let in.
When we love ourselves and then love others,
We set our pain free.
We give permission for love to flow through us,
To serve our life.
Loving ourselves feels good,
Like feeling the wind between our fingers or slowing to the rhythm of rain.
It is the resolution to our stories of pain,
And offers a new beginning to a chapter of life filled with spirit and grace.
So how do you begin to love yourself?
You know how.
You've already told me.
Start by imagining a mother's kind of love,
And be a mother to yourself.
