Years back, in conversation with channelled master guide Eon, they revealed a beautiful, yet simple spiritual bond that occurred between each mother and child. Eon explained that a golden drop of love passed from the mother's heart into each heart of her offspring, regardless of outward circumstance. Whether born into comfort, poverty, welcomed or feared, this strong, immutable drop of honey love is carried by each of our hearts. It's no wonder that we trundle thru life puzzling over our relationships with our mothers. Fraught, accepting, rejecting, loving, and ever evolving.
In a bit, I'll be venturing to the Midwest to honor the passing of my mother in 2020. With family, we'll visit several places she loved, Wustum Museum, the Racine Quarry, Lighthouse, the now gigantic fir tree planted for my father near Lake Michigan. In Chicago, art museums and her old neighborhood, located in the once heavily Polish section of town. At each place, slipping in a memorial token, perhaps a sweet glass heart containing her ashes that my sister Cheri fused, a poem, a drop of honey in a vial.
July 3rd, 1925 my mother entered the world. Ever since Eon mentioned it the golden drop of love from mother to child, I've held it sacred. For me, for my mother, her mother, friends' mothers, friends that are mothers. Honor all.