unedited 2018, Mirror Image Edutainment, Alan John Mayer
As Mother’s Day approaches, admittedly my favorite holiday, I found myself once again on the healing path with Mummy. Our most recent encounter last Thanksgiving, ended when I arrived in Aurora, and she had her granddaughter, the ‘family’ lawyer, call the police to have me thrown in jail. I surmise the reader gets the picture; I am not welcome in Colorado. I wish I had understood that when I lived there thirty-five years ago, but we live and learn. It was then I realized I remind my mother of her biggest failure. Children, little boys in particular, are not to be seen, nor heard.
Years ago, I sent Mummy a letter explaining the damage some of her early choices made to the outcome of my life. What else would she do, but ignore me. It was insane of me to think she might react differently. Mummy is an old dog, and she’s not going to perform any new tricks. I have spent a lifetime, doing the same things over and again to try to get my mother’s love, but you cannot squeeze blood out of a fascist.
All along, I have used the same limited mind, expecting different results. I don’t want to ignore Mummy. She needs attention. I do not want to hurt her. She’s hurt enough, I thought, but I want to send her some sort of Mother’s Day acknowledgement. It doesn’t have to be a Mother of Them All award. I wanted to let her know I am recovering from my co-dependent relationships, and won’t bring up a subject from the past while she is in the room. In fact, I won’t ever bring up any subject again, as I have told her my phone has been shut off. She still calls, just to hear if I answer so she can scold me, I guess. Like Tibbons the butler, I am trying to bow out gracefully, if it is not already too late.
I looked at the 99c Store for a Mother’s Day card. I looked at Ralphs. I found nothing. I searched through my private collection, and ran across the cut off face of a beautifully drawn pink heart with flowers and angels; a card my mother had sent me years ago. I often saved the top half of her greeting cards, to surprise her with them years later. Now that I’ve found the card, what shall I say, I wondered. I referred to the notes I had scribbled into my journal days earlier. After being forcefully evicted from my parental home by two bullying police officers, I am at a loss for words, speechless. I don’t know what to say to my mother anymore.
Then I realized I don’t need to say anything. I whited out the phone number on a business card. The last thing I want is for her to call me, and tell me to
“Speak up. No, now you’re whispering”.
I enclosed my business (prayer) card with the angel on front, realizing I was saying, if you want to find out who your son is, ask your librarian to take you online. But Mummy never visits the library. Why? She has no need for books, or information. I lovingly blotted the envelope with a wet sponge, sealed it, put a Wonder Woman stamp in the upper right corner, and sent my blessing on its way.
Later, I was washing dishes at the sink, and began singing Rowland Keating’s Life is a Rollercoaster, and You Say It Best When You Say Nothing At All, both beautiful songs written and sung by Rowland and my prime memory of my six weeks living in a rented apartment in Prague, during the summer of 2003. Then it dawned on me. I had watched Rowland’s performance on YouTube, and the song had a profound effect on the way I related to my mother. It was Rowland who planted the seed in my head, “you say it best by saying nothing at all.” My subconscious mind led me to listen.
Perhaps CoDa thinking is having an effect upon my life.
Now I need to deal with the sin of pride, the self inflicted nonsense. Be sure to link onto Rowland Keating’s Life is a Rollercoaster, but first, our prayer.
There is one life.
This life is God.
This life is perfect.
This life is my life now.
This one source is the religion of love that unites us all. we can all be happier by looking within. I have found the 5th step
“I take a fearless daily moral inventory of my character” particularly helpful. It fits with forgiving others their trespasses as we ask them to forgive our own. Help me, Lord. Give me understanding.
I accept all religions, all creeds as being one human race on a path to enlightenment, that which I call God. I am patient with myself. Therefore I am patient with others. as I make a conscious choice to follow the path of righteousness along with other Pantheists, Inclusiastics, Hindus, and Jews.
I give thanks my awareness of love can move me forward in a way that causes others to relate back to me from this same space. I keep a guard at the gates to my mind. No thought enters without inspection. My word is divine cause.
I release my word, knowing it returns multiplied.
And so it is.
Thank you, Lord.