My mother kept a garden

A garden of the heart

She planted all the good things

That gave my life its start

She turned me to the sunshine

And encouraged me to dream

Fostering and nurturing

The seeds of self-esteem

And when the winds and rain came

She protected me enough

But not too much because she knew

I’d need to stand up strong and tough

Her constant good example

Always taught me right from wrong

Markers for my pathway

That will last a lifetime long

I am my mother’s garden

I am her legacy

And I hope today she feels the love

Reflected back from me. 

 

 

~ Vincent Tripolone III

 

 

Embodiment of Mothers.

Returning to the heartbeat of my mother. I came home to her. Meeting each other as older versions of ourselves. Where have the years gone? We’ve lived lifetimes in this lifetime. Sho… a journey on a road less travelled. Not for sissy’s, I say!

As we sit together my mid-life soul reflects and drinks the nectar of grace from her divine wisdom teachings. I reflect in awe of how one person could endure so much and continues giving, with unconditional devotion. Observing all the character traits and more, I see my reflection. Deep gratitude in all things. I am grateful to be of service when called. What a privilege it is to give back, especially in times of need and crisis.

Had I still had my career she would hardly get my full attention in a visit nor would I have time to talk in between deadlines or my busy life. There was simply “no time”…what non-sense! I’m sorry for the ego driven younger self. Too immature and self-absorbed to take and make time, value what is important.

Mid-life wisdom is profound through the lessons of the hard-knock school, called life. There’s so much more to you than your current identity and role within society.

Now I can give back and return unconditionally. You see no career, or high paid pay-check or living in an exclusive “whatever” is worth anything compared to giving of your time to care for your beloved parents, a friend or a beloved child. From where I’m sitting nothing compares! It’s the greatest gift to be present, hold space and be of service. No amount of time given makes up for all the years my mother gave and continues giving her all so unconditionally.

It’s truly remarkable when a mother see’s you and I mean really see’s you with loving Mary’s eyes. From this point we meet each other from the heart-space as we grow deeper into our elder selves.

As I prepare for my right of passage as the elder / crone I find myself seated next to the wise one. The wisdom keeper. What a gift and privilege.

Most of the women in our lineage were rooted with extremely difficult paths. Yet one thing is for sure they had fire, passion, grace, humility, courage, resilience and creativity. Such nurturing souls with a never ending supply of love, compassion and kindness. This is what kept them going, deep inner resiliency. They worked tirelessly hard to the bone…literally. Slaves for eons, lost children or wept for the children that never came. Separated from their families or hidden. Taken across seas to be caretakers, housekeepers for the elite/upper crust in their manor houses. That generational wound overflowed into our lives. Oh how these systemic injustices of the past rooted in pain. How they haunt and play out today. It’s Ok…I see you fully NOW.

We lit a candle and honoured all those women who came before us, giving them all a graceful bow. We observed them with compassionate Mary’s eyes. When we acknowledged them, they turned around astounded….no-one had ever seen them, let alone gave them air-time. Needless to stay a courteous bow was literally unheard of!! Boy, were they intelligent resourceful women, yet made to be silenced and made small in a patriarcal world.

STOP I cried…No more! It stops here! It’s time to set you free, take the shackles off and be in harmony. We all suffer if it’s suppressed. These stories that are needing to be told…aren’t! They need to be recognised.

They were led to believe they were not safe to be seen or able to express. Made to think they were small, not good enough to take up peoples time. People weren’t interested in what they had to say. Silenced they became smaller and smaller. They carried bowed submissive heads and broken, hidden tear-drops and soul-ful cries. Always apologising and saying sorry… For what? It was used as a weapon, to be owned and used. Their opinions did not matter. Yes it matters…

I followed the breadcrumbs offering prayers and ritual. Walking barefoot on the soft sands amongst the milk woods and ancient medicine with my spiritual brother, we shared heartfelt stories. He intuitvely picks up a sparking tigers eye crystal, waiting to be acknowledged. The unravelling and the reconciliation had begun. As we bridged to the other world stepping out of time admiring this beautiful sanctuary I saw their reflections, weaving story-lines… uncovering like a best seller. This story which was carried for generations, had to die. Together we crossed the threshold of sweet surrender. We heal within so it does not have to be dealt without. Renewal starts happening. Transmuting and releasing with love and respect for what needs to be reborn.

I’m sorry

Please forgive me

I love you

I thank you

Listening deeper…It suddenly was soo quiet….it got quieter and quieter and I saw these women get up slowly and make their way.

Returning in silent contemplation. I heard a sudden break-through of a song-line. Tigers eyes beads around my neck dropped like tear-drops hitting the wooden floor, like rain falling on a tin roof falling in unison to the ground! One by one they were set free.

Be free, be free my beautiful women of soul…be free

I honour you for I am your legacy, I carry your name….this is not the end of the story!

We all have a story about how we came to answer Spirit’s call.

There is no quick way to contentment, ritual or enlightenment. We are on a path and a meaningful journey of self-discovery. It’s time for us to re-mem-ber.

For the girl who once was Thongolinzima in the lallies now NomVuka.

She is AWAKE! Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave. I am the hope and the dream of the slave and so…..just like life… we rise! The scars I carry, like dry river beds etched into my skin reminds me of their storyline and the one yet to be told.

When we transform the shadow and heal the greatest wounds, they become gifts of gold. Nurturing the seed of destiny and becoming. Time to write a new story.

Divine synchronicity my soulsiter sends me this song.

I was born to walk through the fire, my mama raised me to be and if you knew my grandmother, you’ll understand why I’m free.

I was born for this mission I do not need your permission to be who I was born to be…that’s me, that’s me.

Gonna walk through the fire, my mama raised me to be. And if you knew my grandmother, you’ll understand why I sing.

I was born for this mission, I do not need your permission to be who I was born to be…that’s me, that’s me.

Aligning with our highest selves nourishing our sacred feminine, beautiful things will begin to blossom and embody our true essence.

As our long last parts begin to reunite, both the sacred feminine and masculine begin their slow healing dance together. Back in unison to the garden. Life can only exist and thrive in these complementary energies. Alpha and Omega.

We turn inward, embracing the dance of winter. Celebrating each season we begin balancing the energies within us.

I look up at the night sky, the waning moon prepares me for the elder.

And from the Great Central Sun
I AM THAT I AM

I looked at my old life, one more time inhaled deeply and whispered to myself it’s time.”
I am ready for my new story to begin.

“Spiritual life is a lot like gardening. We till and cultivate the garden of our heart, planting seeds of presence, openness and the ability to respect whatever arises. We water each one so the things which are beautiful in us can blossom.” – Jack Kornfield

The medicine is everywhere. To serve the sacred dream. “Continue walking your path they say”…for I AM the ancestor and the seed that changes everything in our bloodline. And so it is.

Every day is a reminder of how precious time is, urging us to make every moment count.

Divine blessings and ongoing gratitude to my mother and all my grandmothers, uMakhulus and Gogos who walk with me.

Thank you, Makhosi AmaKhulu

Camagu
Gogo NomVuka