It looks like if you grow too much, if you think too much, an army of ghostly bodies will try to empty your heart and mind until no traces are left of the original soul, which lives beyond your shadows.
From the book ‘Pieces’
I’ve been busy building, designing, crossing, knitting and writing bridges. I’ve been even helping people to work with their own bridges.
I’ve gone through a very deep and intense healing journey to bless all the wounds and to leave the past where it is. Living in the moment, being present and trying not to worry about the future, has been my personal lesson this year.
But you know, every time there is a blast of anger, words and resentment; I realize my children still dwell in the past. Their own wounds keep them broken, so broken and so damaged that they cannot but hurt other people and themselves.
For every bridge I have repaired and mended, they have grown so distant or maybe it’s me; walking into the light far away from remorse and guilt has kept me so distant from the people I love the most: my own children.
Their hearts are so close and full of anger and pain; they are so far away from God, their own soul and the Holy Spirit, that we do not talk the same language any more. The bonds and bridges among them are also broken and when crossed, they are only used for times of war.
As a mother, on this Holy day of Christmas, I ask myself: how can I be happy or even fill my heart with joy when my own children are so hurt and so broken that my heart is in pain? Few friends know the story, the nest was destroyed too son, this family was broken long ago and since then, we have survived trying to do as if everything was ok, trying not to miss each other, trying not to ask for a moment of love and joy.
I know, if they are in their thirties I can do nothing but pray and let them live their choices. If I get closer, toxic relations bring me down and seem to be useless because we live in different worlds and dimensions. If I keep distance, then they can come shouting and swearing for whatever tiny thorn is bothering them.
My hands are tied and that makes me feel helpless and useless. They do not want help; they do not even believe they need it.
When you are a single mother and you have raised them on your own, they tend to blame you for everything, it is not the missing parent who did nothing, but the mother who was always there making all the decisions and choices, for better or worse.
Coming to my place, spending a moment of peace, surrounded with good energies and beauty seems to stir their most negative emotions and behaviours.
For some reason, the lighter the place, the stronger I feel, the healthier my heart looks and the sole look of tended gardens and mended bridges; the deeper the darkness in them which comes out as poisonous words and aggressive manners.
I cannot dwell in the past any more, I no longer wallow in my wounds and I am not willing to wallow in their pain either.
It is said that when we become mothers pieces of our hearts live outside us, walking around and making us feel their paces, we breathe what they breathe and whatever hurts them hurts us the most.
A warrior of light learns to walk away from parents, brothers and friends; a warrior of light feels at ease walking along the less travelled path, a warrior of light gives away her own colours to knit perfect wings for her children and remains empty and colourless for years, a warrior of light learns about loneliness and solitude; a warrior of light has not country, town, home or even a planet.
But setting boundaries with your own children can be the most challenging lesson.
Only God knows.
December 25th, 2017