Truth, Enlightenment, Breastmilk & Coming of Age

When my daughter, Maia, turned seventeen (she’s now 24), she exacted a bold decision after a very tense period of living with me and her step-father. Funny how mothers “know.” From the minute she said, “I want to get together with you, sometime before the school year begins, for a walk and a talk,” I knew. As she was finishing her sentence I blurted out, “oh, you’re going to move in with your Dad.” She nodded in surprise, and I sarcastically responded with “fine, go ahead and leave me, just abandon your mother.” “Gee, was there any truth to that statement?” I asked myself. She was quick to plead for a guilt-free response from me. I immediately turned my emotional reaction around to a strong, loving and supportive one. My seventeen year old daughter had come to a significant and clear decision about what she needed to better her life.

There was no need to argue with her, guilt trip her, doubt her, try to convince her otherwise. Truth has this undeniable way of standing its own ground with no contest. Like one of those punching clown dolls, with the heavy weight at the bottom. Doesn’t matter how hard, soft or from what angle you hit it: Truth always stands erect when prodded and punched. One believes, the only way to defeat truth is to deny it, walk away from it, or pretend it was never there. But even that motion, to reject truth, catches up with us eventually in one form or another.

Truth means us no harm, but Truth also never fails its mission to insist we give it our undivided attention. We do have a choice it seems as to how we invite her in or not: either we begrudgingly submit to the “in your faceness” of truth; especially when Truth takes on the unrelenting quality of presenting one circumstance after another, often as some degree of discomfort, pain, horror, disgust or otherwise shadowy disguise...until we finally “deal” with her. OR we can choose to look at her and invite her in and see what all this fuss is about. I guess I think of Truth as feminine, because, like the most conscious mother, despite all the guises her children take on in a lifetime, she still accepts them as her children… and loves them anyway; the truth of their lives, whether they’re criminals or New Age woo woo types. Truth doesn’t judge.

To face Truth is to offer her your deepest fears; of rejection, of unworthiness, of shame that you are in such a state of apparent disrepair. Such an ugly duckling! Truth sees all of that. Exactly or more precisely, she sees right through the illusion of who you think you are NOT. “I am not beautiful, I am not worthy, I am not intelligent” and on and on, through all the illusory knots we’ve so vociferously tied ourselves up as – so tightly until we can hardly breathe, hardly move, speak or think! But, Truth is like the most patient of mothers who never gives up on her most challenging child; the one who IS the ugly duckling. Because Truth knows she will remain unwavering in her faith and love and stand ever present in the face of All the illusory lies of what that child may or may not believe about himself (or in the face of what others may believe or impose on her child – labels and all). She’ll stand tirelessly until finally the knots begin to loosen, the veils of forgetting become thinner and the remembering of their true Self begins.

One cannot help to become illuminated, little by little or in sudden bursts with Mother Truth revolving around her little planet, like the sun revolving around the earth casting out solar flares. Through the leela, the illusions, the play of shadow and light finally comes the Truth of who we are. With enough love and patience any dark, sad soul can be uplifted, en-lightened.

To Thine Own Heart Be True. To me, my daughter’s imploration to move in with her Dad was expressed with such clear conviction and authenticity, that I realized here was my daughter making a decision based on what she knew unequivocally, to be True for her. Wow! I wasn’t even in touch with that part of myself until my early thirties, if that! It wasn’t unlike another time in her life, when she approached me in a similar confident way.

I’ll finish this piece with a truism that Maia had, even at the tender age of three, when, after her father and I separated, she begged me in the sweetest way, “please Mommy, I need mooties really bad.” Mooties was her word for breastfeeding. I had breastfed Maia until she was two and a half years old. Certainly it was not her sole means of nourishment as foods were a wonder and delight to her, but on a soul level it was the “no brainer,” first choice source of comfort when she was emotionally upset or rebounding from a physical wound or just needed my closeness. I was, however, grateful when she had finished her two and a half year long romance with my milky breasts.

At the time when she asked again for “mooties” there was no hesitation in her voice that this was a genuine need of hers, and I figured what the heck, there’s no milk there, she’ll suck and that’ll be that. As it turns out, our breastfeeding moment was also a genuine need of mine; as any breastfeeding mother will tell you, the act of breastfeeding itself has an all-encompassing reassuring and comforting effect on both mother and babe. I felt such relief the moment her suctioning lips gathered around my nipple. Tears ran down my face looking down at her, looking up at me with those sparkly, dolphin eyes. Besides the sacredness of such a reunion, there was the love hormone, oxytocin, which is released during pleasurable acts such as eating chocolate or a delicious meal with delightful company, lovemaking and lo and behold, breastfeeding. Mother Nature’s love hormone uplifts our hearts and calms our nervous system. To my surprise, a day later, my breasts became engorged with breastmilk. Ahh, that sweet nectar of life, the Goddess’s “truth serum,” oxytocin and all! We both happily breastfed here and there for the next six months until we both adjusted to our new life and didn’t need “mooties” anymore!

(In the seven years since Maia made that bold decision, she has made many other bold choices like: venturing out-of-state for college, sailing 3,000 nautical miles across the Pacific Ocean with SEA Woodshole on a research tall ship, majoring in science as an Oceanographer and and regularly scuba dives in the cold water, kelp forests of the Pacific Northwest doing research and sampling for various reef monitoring programs). 

Elizabeth Rose has practiced and taught Massage for the Childbearing Year for 25 years, attended 100+ births as a Labor Support Doula, and is co-founder of www.MothersMandala.com with Elenya Grafals – the umbrella organization for their work. Most recently, she has become a Family Constellation Facilitator in the tradition of Bert Hellinger’s intergenerational healing work. She is also a mother to her inspiring 24 year old daughter, Maia.