a teaching

A Teaching from my Mother

(1995)


My Christmas present to my mother (and myself) was a week long retreat at Plum Village, Thich Nath Hanh's spiritual community in France.  One of my Dharma friends had suggested that I go there as I was relating to her my hesitation between visiting my folks back home, going on a meditation retreat or taking a beach vacation to Baja.

The idea sounded great. I wondered, however, how my mother would react to such an invitation, since she is not a meditator, has never gone on retreat and does not like to be around too many people.  To my great surprise and delight, she accepted and said it would certainly help her relax if nothing else!

Last year she had a mastectomy, underwent chemotherapy, is on anti-depressant and sleeping pills, and has attempted suicide at several occasions.  She tends to constantly be on the go and seriously prone to depression.

Suffice to say that after her accepting my invitation, I began to wonder if I had made a good decision. Could I stand being with my mother for a week, and in a retreat environment?  I had made reservations, the dices were rolled.

We arrived before dinner on a Saturday and were quickly shown our rooms.  A permanent resident briefed us on the daily routine, rules and code of conduct - a familiar world to me since I have been a Buddhist practitioner for several years. 

Meals are an integral part of mindfulness practice. The first half of every meal is taken in silence. Since food is a major part of my mother's life, she quickly forgot the meal rules and started eating before the first Mindfulness bell indicating the beginning of the meal, and started talking to retreatants seating next to her.  Her attention span is very short and she already had forgotten the rules.

I immediately tensed-up, like a parents watching a child doing something forbidden. Anger arose in me and I quickly reminded her of the rules and the reasons behind these rules. A new world for her.  That night, as we were going to bed, she confided to me that the place felt a bit like a jail!  I was able to lovingly say to her that such a place is called a monastery!

For the first couple of days, there were several other tense moments, such as when, during the walking meditation led by Thigh Nath Hanh, my mother began walking twice faster than the group's pace, passing everyone until she found herself right behind the leader, and got right into his foot steps.  It was both hilarious and unnerving but there was really nothing I could do. I had to let go, begin releasing my judgments and trust that the community would take care of her.  I began to relax.

Other events triggered feelings of embarrassment, anger, impatience and shame. Each one became an opportunity to watch all of the invisible ties that link me to my mother. Each time I saw that it was time to give her and I our freedom.

People in the village quickly embraced my mother, admiring her for the fact that she came to Plum Village with no prior meditation experience. The village soon became a mother to my mother, and I could be free of the responsibilities that I dreaded. I began to breath and enjoy my retreat, and so did my mother!

I watched her doing her walking mediation early in the morning. She joined a Christmas choir rehearsal.  She attended all the Dharma talks and even asked questions.  She befriended a Tibetan nun, and a Belgian woman who regularly comes on retreat.

People were touched by my mother's realness, curiosity and innocence. They could also feel her tremendous pain. They responded compassionately to her, enjoying her company, sharing laughter's and always demonstrating patience, kindness and joy.

Another striking memory was during a tea ceremony. Cookies and tea were being passed around. Everyone was waiting for everyone to be served and for the bell to be rang. I heard crunchy noises behind me, and as I turned around, realized that it was my mother eating her chocolate cookie, oblivious to the outside world. I looked at her with disapproval in my eyes. As I turned back, a seven-year-old girl across the room was also absorbed in eating her treat.  Noticing her, I smiled and quickly had a powerful insight. My mother and the child were doing the same thing. Why was I smiling at the child and frowning at my Mom?  My mother is like the seven-year-old girl, totally pure and innocent. She is not doing this to piss me off.  As I contemplated these thoughts, a wave of love rushed through my heart.

From that moment on, my time with my mother took a different color.  I had so much more space for her.  She received a lot of attention from many of the nuns and long term retreatants. She got more love than she probably ever got in her life.

As with most older folks, the fear of the "sect" thing was probably in her mind before she went to Plum Village. To her great surprise, she found people extremely tolerant, compassionate and kind. As we left a week later, the whole Village sang her a beautiful song. She cried, and everyone came to hug her.

I can't say enough about how it's probably touched her life and gave her hope about humanity's ability to love. She now talks about healing with great enthusiasm. That short stay helped her see things in a different light and she made new friends.

Without my friend's suggestion, I would have probably never dared sharing such an experience with my mother. I would have been afraid of being judged for my spiritual views, or not wanting to be burdened by her presence during a retreat.

We now have a new topic of conversation and a much stronger and loving connection. I will certainly go back with her. She was a great teacher for me.

Hugo