Child of the Cosmos

A neighbor, whose partner died a few years ago and who recently lost her mother, stated, “Now I am both a widower and an orphan.”

When my own mother died, I first had a similar feeling of aloneness. Then it occurred to me: this neighbor has never been a mother. It is my role as mother that keeps me hooked to the world. The line does not end with me, I remember reflecting. But now, I can see that the line never did begin with me. For I am a daughter of the universe.

In the beginning and at the end I felt close to my mother. In between lay an expansive bridge that neither one of us were able to meet upon. There was love, but not intimacy. So when my mother died, I already knew what it was to be an orphan. I had already sought love in other places.

I am a daughter of the universe.

On a pre-winter morning I stood upon our front deck sipping my coffee and hearing the crows cawing amongst the trees. I started cawing back at them, and then it happened. I watched as two crows and then three more flew from the top of my backyard incense cedar to the top of the front maple tree. Five crows, my magic number, I thought. Five crows. I let the light filtering through the darkening sky bathe me while I breathed in the stark beauty of the leafless trees. With gratitude am I standing here.

I am a daughter of the universe.

My edgy, independent daughter doesn't need her mother. In my twenties wasn't I also similar? I sought to uproot my origins and plant myself anew. I wandered near and far, and to my surprise, my roots grew wherever I stood. I became part of a wider world. And I discovered creatures and kin who needed my compassion and mothering. I gave and I received.

I am a daughter of the universe.

At times I feel alone. At times I get captured by the dark. At times I do feel motherless. Then I hear the cawing. I see the shoots sprouting as the leaves fall. I feel the sun's warmth. And I know I will never be an orphan.

I am a child of the cosmos.

© 2012