Landing On My Feet

Happy..Happy.. Mother's Day :-)..
Happy..Happy.. Mother’s Day 

When I was growing up my mother would sometimes say to me that I “always landed on my feet.” I took it as a supreme compliment as if I clearly had special skills that few others possessed and all that, despite the fact that I didn’t have a secret decoder ring to go along with it. But unfortunately, I didn’t know exactly what my mom meant, it just seemed like a compliment to me, her baby boy.

Knowing I always landed on my feet I think I assumed that I could in fact deal with the universe by remaking it on my terms. After all, I had this hidden power of, you guessed it, always landing on my feet.

It took me a long, some might say a painful period of time, with far too many scrapes and near misses, before it dawned on me that perhaps her perceived compliment was not really a compliment. Or worse yet, it was an admonishment of some sort. Incidentally that question arose about that same time I noticed a rather large chip on my shoulder. Perhaps arrogance could have been one interpretation that I never considered was a result of her comment.

My mom was not a mean, overbearing mother. I have no bad memories that would even hinted at family abuse or extraordinary family mayhem.

I did however realize that when my children came along I had to think about, and hear what came out of my mouth and do my darnedest to be clear.  Saying things to them that minimized misinterpretation was always a goal of mine.

It was only then that I began to get a hint of one small insight of what Buddhist’s mean by the word mindfulness

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