Sung hero

My mother seems made for times like this.

My mum and I don’t get on. Not really.
I am a puzzle, an enigma, or perhaps plain old confusing
(and not just to my Mum, neither :-)).

[offstage feedback from My Mum:
... this is horrifying, mortifying, awful, and could not be true.

And from me:
... not all will find it so, and this particular truth is important and half won't do.
Relationship perfection is not required for wonder and magic to happen for me because of you.

Now back with the programme ...]

But at the core, I would aspire to the qualities she exhibits during these days.
Unsparing of herself, serious but with lightness, non-intrusive, freely serving with joy.
A little worried, perhaps, but mostly at ease in a role of making the pathway simpler and clearer for others.

Her own (currently in remission) leukemia and the physical limitations of being 71 remain relevant but impose little on her purpose.
Her own widowhood drives her caring to a level beyond.

black / white
weaknesses / strengths
yin / yang
limitations / creative boundaries
fears / catalysts for change
fallow times / invisible and deepest changes

L