The Power of a Mother's Voice

The holidays are over, the blue moon wanes, sending its blue tones into my head. My college student has flown back to the blizzards of weather and semester's winds. I hear in my head Bob Dylan's song (sung by Susan+Tedeschi), Lord Protect My Child: "For his age, he's wise He's got his mother's eyes There's gladness in his heart He's young and he's wild My only prayer is, if I can't be there, Lord, protect my child" I'm taking a moment in this new year to consider the power of a mother's voice. When Ell was just a baby and I was still carrying him in a snuggly, I used to dance and sing with him to Tracy Chapman's, All That You Have is Your Soul. Do you guys remember that song? "Don't be tempted by the shiny apple Don't you eat of the bitter fruit Hunger only for a taste of justice Hunger only for a world of truth 'Cause all that you have is your soul" Waxing nostalgic this evening, I thought it might be interesting to post the advice mail art that I sent the youngin' a couple of months ago. We'd had a discussion about how my voice is in his head. He reminded me that my voice, forever etched in his mind and heart, is so strong, that I don't need to be emphatic anymore. I could whisper and his whole being would respond. Whoa, eh? Sometimes that means, "If it's not one thing, it's your mother." (Robin Williams, I believe) This mailart piece was a huge challenge for me. It has a printout of some advice I've given, with windows cut out from a photo I took of the Doubletree Hotel. We see this hotel whenever we're outside. I thought, like rooms, a mother's words are stored for instant recall (for good or ill). We can visit the good words by opening the windows. Some of my advice was: Look up at the sky. Don't look up as the birds fly over. More willing, less willful. Floss often, wash hands more often. Ask for a hug. Use a splash of bleach in your laundry. Don't mix bleach with other chemicals. All that you have is your soul. Never iron naked. Sometimes struggle only tightens the ropes we seek to break. Stare at the ceiling for ten minutes or more. "Some know the price of everything, but the value of nothing"--you're not one of those. So, call your mother. There are 64 sayings that he can see by peeling back the paper windows, a bit like those advent calendars one sees during the holidays. I wrote: Here, dear Ell, is what's already in your head. Like a hotel with 64 rooms, you have compartments, boxes if you will, in which data, decorated with the minutiae of pragmatic living, furnished with emotions of joy, wisdom, trust, self help and love collected and stored for a time--until it's time to add or subtract more useful aphorisms. Yet some, the deepest and most true, stay always at the ready like your mother's voice, powerful, structural like the girders of architecture that make up each room--contained--a vivid history there. Love, ma (© M. S. Esparza) "But really, when you come right down to it, there are only four basic prayers. Gimme! Thanks! Oops! and Wow!" --Rabbi Marc Gellman I hope what you hear in your head are your own best, kindest, wisest, most loving words. If there are cruel ones, let's throw them out now. This year deserves a good start.