Live Stream Madness

In one evening, I have moved from a grounded connection with my solid roots to a swimming head from far too much information to process in one sitting. The culprit? My watery cancer mother and the stories of madness she felt so inclined to divulge over wine and, perhaps, a touch of sleep deprivation with me.

Alas, I am writing to you, fellow Evolver, because all of my most private journals have been ransacked by others since I was young and I know next to nothing of emotional privacy, so might as well just bond about it! Oh, the swim back to shore will be long and arduous, though well worth the effort.

One thing that must be understood about my mother is that she truly is quite crazy. I am still astonished by how she managed to utilize her numerous mental illnesses as skills to keep her out of local mental institutions. (I jest, and yet there is a haunting air of honesty in reading back the last sentence!)

As a child, my greatest fear was of growing up to become like her. Perhaps this is true for every daughter. Is this the fate of my sweet three year old sleeping next to me who believes, whole heartedly, that I am the Goddess reincarnated just for her? I am inspired to answer my own question with a a sobering "maybe".

You see, my mother is a unique character. I am currently on a quest, of sorts, to heal a once shattered relationship between she and I. Truly, we have had no connection since I was 11, when she abandoned my younger brother and I just before Christmas one year in our shitty apartment in Los Gatos, CA. She left, we survived, se la vie.

Life has a funny way of bringing people back together, of healing old wounds, of exposing that which demands to be exposed. In truth, I am still not sure what I am to learn from this adventure of re-acquainting myself with the woman who gave birth to me. In this moment I am thankful for my perception of a divine energy that can manage such lessons and meanings for me. Spirituality is helpful here. Certainly.

The last thing I thought I'd be doing on a Friday night as a single mom with a sleeping kidlet in my arms was discussing teen-aged sneak-out sessions with my own mother over a bottle of wine. (I had no stories, she had many...) In one conversation with this woman, I was able to surmise the essence of her entire life, a life, until now, I had completely misunderstood. (Additionally, I am wiling to state that I have no idea what will be revealed to me in future moments, therefore, this summation is fully subject to change without notice;). How's that for Capricorn South Node for you?!).

The summation is this: My mother is a complex ordeal, the epitome of the baby-boomer era, and, simultaneously, the embodiment of its underbelly, its predecessors, its inner rottenness, complimented by a heap of grace, divine perfection, and, at the risk of sounding like a typical daughter, utter self-centeredness.

At age 11 she stole her own mothers car to go joyriding in downtown San Francisco. At age 16 she snuck out to go to a Stevie Wonder concert with a local Giants Minor League player. Around age 40, after having abandoned us, she attended lavish Sonoma County parties whereby she was introduced to some of the world's wealthiest bisexuals (apparently...).

Many other stories were revealed to me in this most awkward of nights, however, the only matter of striking significance to her was her specific wardrobe and hair situation for each of these encounters and how it may or may not have affected any fortuitous outcomes that were otherwise owed to her by a God that was always 10 steps behind (again, apparently). My mother, the anomaly, the cancer that was never a mother with a Sagitarius north node.

So now, I am swimming back to shore in a spiritual feat that feels akin to the Escape From Alcatraz race. With every harsh stroke I take in the sharp, crisp, spiritual, psychic waters between my afflicted moon and my warm sun, I am reminded that, even when its easy to perceive any thing that does not grow the way in which we believe it should is wretched or malign, everything is in its right place. This woman is a beauty to behold, even though she fits none of my models and constructs for a good woman, mother, person, etc...

My mother, for all her faults, is a Goddess, a slew of human folly packed into a lifetime, and an incredibly liberating, albeit shallow, fucking bad ass.

Happy Friday, friends. May your minds be blown and your deepest, darkest wounds begin to heal for you.

Namaste,

Viriginia