Personalmente non ritengo che una madre sia definita dal fatto che abbia procreato o meno, o dalla presenza fisica di un bambino, cresciuto o meno.
L'istinto materno si trova in modo diverso nelle donne e può essere diretto verso cose diverse.
[...]
Una madre è una donna che ama senza fine,
che aiuta o guida qualcuno o qualcosa
anche se questi proprio non collabora
fino alla fine;
talvolta
anche oltre".
Traduzione "libera" di una bellissima nota di Clarissa Pinkola Estes:
I believe all women have claim to the title of mother, if they wish to be.
I personally dont think a mother is decided by whether she gave birth yes or birth no, not by the physical presence of a child, grown or otherwise.
The mothering instinct is different in women in different ways, and aimed toward different things.
It's a strange cultural blindness that we are taught that a mother is only so by one narrow definition, or 'only real' if she fits that narrow trope.
A mother is a woman who loves endlessly,
who helps and guides someone or something,
even if and when it will not exactly cooperate
til later;
sometimes
much later.
A mother engages when she can
and does so for a duration.
She uses
her heart sense and her common sense
to shelter whatever is vulnerable.
As i was flying over the earth
one night, I saw there were actually
many child souls on earth
in the guise of creatures, loyal dogs,
endearing
cats, and other creatural children,
and that many of them are
in the shelter of human mothers also.
There are women who are mothers
to their own faithful work in helping
the needy and the lonely,
There are women who have become mothers
to grown adults who are not their blood,
but who are their soul relatives, nonetheless.
Also, in Spanish and Latino culture, we call
each other comadres:
This means I am your mother, you are
my mother, we are related in blood love.
Sometimes a woman is a mother
to great service to the world,
and she give birth to ideas with longevity.
Sometimes a woman is mother
to things that pass most people by...
I think of a woman whose name I do not know,
one tiny old woman I see every spring,
wobbling heedlessly into car traffic
hoisting her watering can
that bangs against her legs as she labors forth....
just to reach a small flower patch
she guardds in the median strip
on a busy highway.
Mother of the flowers in no-man's land.
She is a dear and holy mother also.
So for all the mothers,
whose children may vary drastically
in looks and in need,
Blessed Mother's Day,
you are definitely one
of the mothers amongst us.
and with a mother's and grandmother's love for all the mothers and grandmothers and great grandmothers, all the angel mothers, all our angel children of many shapes and forms,
dr.e
dr.clarissa pinkola estés
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento