Teacher

I wish I could teach you about everything...but I can't. And you will find out one day. And one day you are probably going to question me; question everything I did/taught you. And you are probably going to be mad at me.

I will understand.
I will remain silent.
And if I don't: remind me that you need your space. That is your birth right to be mad.

I will wait for you.

The thing is, Guru... It scares me to think about all these things. Me teaching you. That's scary. That's a lot of pressure.

You, Guru, are everything I'm not. And when I look at you that's all I can think about. You came from me but you are not of me. You are a thousand times more holier, more beautiful...WISER.

I cannot teach you about forgiveness, because that's your nature.

Your nature is to forgive. To love endlessly. With compassion.
I know you forgive me everyday. I know you know I'm learning. I know because you have taught me.

Be patient with me as you grow.
I will try to be a good teacher.
A better student.

The year that my Guru was born

2013, the year that my Guru was born, was a gloomy year.

When I gave birth everything changed; switched. A mother can be vulnerable as a drop of water; majestic like a mountain.

I didn't fear birth. But 2013, the year that my Guru was born, was a year of fears.

Sometimes I can't remember what it was like to have a newborn; a 6month old...a nine month old. Everything is blurry now: I was exhausted, happy and sad. Feeling all the feelings. Sometimes I felt incomplete; other days I felt that I had too much.

I became a mother.

So, now I have to look back more than often to make me remember of those days of ecstasy and surreal dreams: I made a human. A perfect human being.

Making a human sounded like an infinite project. It is. My heart feared. Was I asleep? Did I dream of tiny piggies and endless days and nights of nursing? Did I really sustained life just with the nectar of my breasts?

I did.

2015, the year on which I have a 18 month old, is the year that I'm awakening. I'm finding myself again. On every corner of the house; there I am, discovering the joys of motherhood. There I am LEARNING to be a better a mother. There I am asking for forgiveness if I mess up. There I am drugged with bliss. HERE I am: embracing the chaos and the calm. The magic and the tantrums. The teething and the cuddles.

Did I REALLY make that human? That whole human being with real feelings, real opinions, a personality of his own...

I did.

And its surreal and oh so real, all at the same time.

Motherhood is such a trip. A good one. A badass one.