Mothercraft

I went out for a cup of tea this evening to get out of the house and enjoy the evening sky. There's a great little open-air patio attached to a Mediterranean grill in Princeton that I like. They make a delicious cup of Turkish tea and a perfect pistachio baklava.

The patio tables are close together, so it's impossible not to hear the conversations of other diners. My table sat between a table where a woman in a straw hat and sunglasses had her laptop open and was on the phone having a business meeting and that of a mother and daughter nibbling on an array of appetizers. Both were strikingly dressed in black and had painted toenails. Both had long, dark hair and dark, beautiful eyes. The atmosphere was companionable and I could not help being drawn to them. 

They were talking about what the daughter was doing at school. She was sharing some of what she was thinking about and what she was learning through her research. It felt very familiar. I've had many conversations with my own children about their academic discoveries and ideas around how to apply them.

The mother began to struggle with comprehending what her daughter was trying to communicate. She did not yet have enough mastery of her material to explain it simply. I could see that there was much that is still in process for her and that she is trying to figure out. The daughter began to feel a little frustrated from the look of things. They were not connecting around what she was sharing. A couple of times, the mom glanced over at me and smiled uncomfortably. I got the sense that she was reaching out for understanding. 

And then the most amazing thing happened. Something shifted, and the mom just relaxed and became so perfectly attentive that she was completely present to her daughter. With no need to understand what her daughter was talking about, she simply gave her daughter what she actually wanted. Presence. Attention. Connection.

It was an inspiring interaction. And as I sit here writing about it, I'm wishing that we could bottle that kind of wisdom. But, of course, that kind of wisdom comes only with long experience and is its own kind of magic.

The Great Summer Writing Retreat of 2019 begins. One hundred days of writing unedited ideas and following a prompt to its sometimes illogical conclusion.  


Photo: Jennifer Louden

Photo note: This photo popped up on my FB feed today and was the first image I saw this morning. It inspired me so much, I decided it would be my writing prompt for the day. Little did I realize, as it worked on me throughout the day. that I would find this kind of inspiration in the deep and abiding presence of a mother's love, so grounded and expansive at the same time.