With stealth, she follows closely behind me, in my moving wake, like a shadow - just out of sight. Barely perceptible, she tracks my every movement, absorbing my every thought, consuming my very essence as I slowly wind my way through life.
The bag she carries has grown enormous, the hole in its bottom only big enough for a small trickle of detritus to escape as she patiently, loyally, and purposefully follows my movements.
I am aware of her, quietly sitting with me. I want to acknowledge her, give her time, attention, and love, but I am too busy, I must be somewhere, do something, give more, be more, have more. There are too many people needing my attention, too many tasks, too many responsibilities, too much noise.
Yet, I feel her diligently waiting for the right moment - the moment where she says, "No more."
The moment where she trips me up, makes me stumble and fall, nudging me to say, "If you don't stop and listen, I will give You this bag to carry, and you won't get up again. You will stay there, in one place, on the ground, static, and in pain- until you pay attention. Until you unpack this. Until you hear what I have been holding for you".
The Script That Defines Us
From the time I decided to come to this place, she has been with me - my conscious, unconscious, and subconscious - recording every sound, every joy, every sadness, shock, fear, dream, and desire. Every action, every message.
She has been writing my script.
And now, she gingerly hands it to me - the one that has been running in the background all along, the one that has worn deep, cavernous grooves in my brain. The one I must now examine, pick apart, and question.
Is this real?
Is this me?
Is this what I want?
Did I ask for this, or did I just allow the script to decide for me?
There is no time left to run, to dodge, to hide. Avoidance is no longer tenable. I must listen. I must take the script and pause.
Many years have passed - infancy, childhood, adolescence, young womanhood, motherhood.
And now, I begin the walk as a grandmother. As a crone. Through a door that does not favour a heavy load, but one that presents an opportunity for freedom.
To free her.
To free me.
From all that holds me back. From all that runs on a loop - self sabotage, limiting beliefs, unconscious burdens.
Practising Ubuntu for Myself
I find myself needing to practise Ubuntu - not just for others but for myself. For this beautiful, weary, yet infinitely powerful soul who chose this life, with all its challenges.
I find myself needing to pour love into my very essence, to repeat words of kindness to the self that I have so often neglected.
"Yes, the bag you carry is large and heavy, full of hurt, shame, fear, and guilt. But it is also full of memories and pathways that lead to joy - to the love and healing you have given others. It leads to your inherent kindness, to your soft and tender soul. You are good. You are love, You are infinite unconditional love. And your bucket is tipped to this favour".
As in Ubuntu, I am because we are.
Awareness in motion.
The Moment of Reckoning
And now, the signposts have led me here - to her, to this place and time. The trip wire has been triggered, the one we have been slowly approaching for years.
The navigation points were clearly marked along the roadmap of my life, all leading me to this stage.
With quiet trepidation, I take in a breath, I face her. And I allow her to show me.
She hands me the bag she has been carrying.
I take another breath.
And I settle in - for the Pause.
Why Mama Madhya?
Simply because I am a mother.
I have always been a mother - caring from a young age for my siblings, for my friends, for my parents, my partners, my children, my clients, my work, my family. I have mothered many, cared for many, but in this process, I forgot to mother myself.
I convinced myself - with foolish pride - that I am a bottomless well of love, endlessly pouring into the needs of others. That somehow, I could keep giving without fully filling my own bucket. That I had tapped into the unconditional love of the infinite universe, and this alone would sustain me.
I drank the Kool-Aid.
And now, this mortal female incarnation leads me to the point where reflection is unavoidable.
This Mama must now be a Mama to herself.
I must pause. I must take Madhya - the divine Sanskrit name for pause, for the middle way, the moment between moments. I must take a breath, open the heavy bag my patient self has been carrying, and lay it to rest so that I can move with freedom into the next, most beautiful phase of my life - my third age, my mature phase, my wisdom on the final leg of the journey back home, back to who I truly am.
And I look forward to sharing my Madhya with You.
Namaste. Namaste.
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