We are grateful to Peggy O’Mara for sharing The Mother’s Wisdom Deck with her readers and connecting them to Mothering with Soul. We will be giving away The Mother’s Wisdom Decks to three (3) Mothering.com readers who comment on today’s post by 8 pm mst on Sunday, Oct 7th. We will select three (3) comments at random and announce the lucky winners in next Monday’s post. And, now on to our Monday post…healer.
Fitting that the healer card, Curandera, landed on a week when I was overtaken by a flu. All day long, I lay in bed thinking of what healing means for me. I felt like sickness brought with it a kind of susto, or soul loss, a sense of being emptied in order to be refilled and renewed.
In my fever-addled brain, I thought about how children are the ultimate healers. They break us open, they awaken the forgotten places in our hearts, they remove the tarnish on our souls. As much as we believe that we hold them, in truth it seems that our children hold us. They knit us together, body and soul, making us whole. They get us out of bed when we feel like we can’t face the world, get us outside even when sunshine seems like too much to bear.
And, we hold them too. We hold them with our deep listening, our paying attention to every quiver, every passing joy and sniffle. We embrace them while they are feverish and need a haven to heal. We hold them with our eyes, by giving them confidence just by watching them do something. Sometimes when they ask us for help, what they want is for us to give them our eyes, to hold them with our steady gaze and give them a sense of well-being.
And just as we hold—and heal—each other, something larger holds us all. And that’s why I love how Jenny envisioned the healing card, with an altar in the corner. Curanderas travel with portable altars they use to invoke divine powers that can restore wholeness. For me, an altar is a place where we can hold the divine, and be held in this relatedness. We make a space for it, literally and figuratively. And almost like a child with a dollhouse, I love arranging my altar, swapping out new photos or more apropos fragments of poetry, putting a fresh flower here, a found crystal there. Making an ecclectic nest for spirit.
One of the things I appreciate most about Waldorf is how it encourages a nature table—essentially an altar—for children. It honors that children are hungry for the sacred as much as we are. The nature table, often a focal point for a Waldorf classroom or home, can be quite simple, and it always has elements that reflect the changing seasons outside. Just the thought of creating our fall offering inspires me, and makes me want to treasure hunt for acorns and fallen leaves.
How do you invite wholeness and well-being into your home?