Last year at this time, I was standing at a journey’s beginning, taking deep breath after deep breath, and contending with doubts, “Can I do this? Can I uphold the integrity of the oracle so beautifully brought to life by the authors? I can think of several other mama artists who could do this better. Is it even possible in just 4 months while being a mama?” I knew I wanted to. I had been asking the universe for a project that would inspire me in a deeper way. I’d also been calling out for guidance and support on my path of mothering. But fears can be kinda loud.

I was staring at 52 blank rectangles, an empty map of what would be The Mother’s Wisdom Deck. I paged through drafts of Niki and Elizabeth’s card passages and came to Turtle – Grounding. The passage concludes with Turtle advising: “a time-honored way of coming back to earth: lie facedown with arms extended above your head. Make sure your forehead, knees, and hands are touching the ground. This is a full bow, a prostration to the powers above. In this supplication, you lower yourself before infinite Mystery and, in turn, come closer to your basic nature.”

Almost exactly ten years ago, after driving all night, I stepped outside of my car into a frigid, New Mexico mountain landscape, just five minutes walk from our home now. The sun was still on its ascent on the other side of the Sangres. Patrick led me down a snow-covered road lined with vertical blue, white, red, green and golden prayer flags. At the end was a white, wedding cake shaped shrine. Yes, it was my first visit to a Buddhist Stupa — what my daughter lovingly now calls, “Buddha’s house”. Two golden dear sat still and awake on either side of a peaceful Buddha. Goosebumps rose up on my already freezing body — the kind of chill when you are so overtaken with beauty and a sense of “wow”. I watched Patrick kneel on the freshly shoveled flagstone and a ghost-like breath rise out of his mouth. He lay on his stomach, facedown with his hands in prayer, reaching over his head. Aside from photographs in distant lands, I had never seen anyone do this before. My response surprised me. Feeling so much gratitude for that place I was right then and there, and the friend I was with, I dipped into my first full body prostration. I really wanted to throw myself down to the ground, but I am timid. I remember at first wondering, is this ok? I’m not Buddhist. And I distinctly remember the calm and grace I felt lying on the frozen stone before “infinite Mystery”. I didn’t want to get up. I went empty and prayed, and the sun spilled over the mountains.

Remembering that winter morning, I knew the only way I could trust that I could paint these cards –and begin this journey– was to get out of my head, out of my ego, and into my heart. To focus on “why” this project is so important to us: honoring motherhood as a spiritual practice. I lay in my studio in full prostration on a child-like rug of yellow and pink flowers. I felt anchored and prayed for intuition, endurance, clarity, and wisdom. Or maybe I pleaded. :) Either way, I feel like guidance presented herself.

**To clarify, I positioned the woman on the turtle to form the five points of the mandala within the turtle’s shell (vs. full prostration when you lie face down in a straight line — legs together and arms together over your head in prayer/Namaste position.

I realize until now, I haven’t shared much of this pilgrimage here. It was a test of endurance. I learned to hone my intuition, reach out to my community, and surrender. When I was painting, Tulsi often reminded me of what was most important asking, “Mama, first tea party, then you paint, ok?” and “Please Mama, you hold me like Haumea holds her baby?”

Mothering is the most amazing dance I’ve ever danced, and I pray these images convey that spirit, beauty and love. I did my best to “get out of the way” and let the images come through me. Of course, this I am still learning. :)

A little background on the deck…The idea first came to Niki Dewart in 2009 while she was out on a rare solo walk in the woods. She envisioned an oracle deck that would speak directly to mothers, an oracle bearing and bonding, nursing and nudging, surrendering and serendipity. She then invited Elizabeth Marglin to create with her, and soon after that, they invited me to offer visual interpretations. And although the deck doesn’t make its official debut until May 1st (for Mother’s Day), I just received my first sample and had to share! :)

You can pre-order it through your local bookstore or here. **If you live near Boulder or Taos, stay tuned for May Launch events where you can purchase the deck and support your local bookstore and midwives!**

I am so grateful for this experience, and now, for the daily meditations. Today, I pulled the card, Intention/Mother Meng. You will learn her story when you have the deck and accompanying book. I loved this quote Niki and Elizabeth chose to include:

Each decision we make, each action we take, is born out of an intention. — Sharon Salzberg

AND, last week, our website+blog, Mothering with Soul, inspired from the deck, came to life. We envision it as a place for mothers around the world to come together, to be real, to support and inspire each other. I know you will love Niki and Elizabeth and appreciate their honesty and spirit. Each week we will pull a card from the deck and use that as our theme. We’ll share whatever thoughts, stories, photos, drawings, and quotes that come into our lives that week as they add meaning to the attribute. We hope you will share your thoughts there, too. Will you join us?

Last week I came upon The M.A.P.P. Gathering, an incredible, growing ocean of mamas, coming together to relate and share, encourage and ignite each others’ flames. The Gathering is a series of interviews with some amazing, wise, gentle, BRIGHT soul-mamas who are all wholly passionate about their mothering AND their “work”: Brene Brown, PhD, Jennifer Louden, Renee Trudeau, Jill Savage, Sara Gottfried, MD, Pamela Slim, Kelly Rae Roberts, Tsh Oxenreider and Andrea Scher (links on the M.A.P.P. site). The gathering was initiated by Lisa Grace Byrne who I keep thanking over and over in my head and heart — and I have only listened to 3 of the conversations so far!

Lisa describes it as, “a collection of intimate conversations with a handful of mothers who have followed their passion and are making a beautiful difference in the world.” For any mamas out there, you know how connecting intimately with mama-friends can be a saving grace…and how it gives you strength in countless ways? I think you might find that (and more) in listening to these conversations while nodding and saying “YES!” and reflecting on your own walk of motherhood.

I feel like sometimes on this path of mothering there isn’t a lot of time to reflect, with days passing so quickly and diving straight into my art in any “me-time”. Rare alone-walks (thank the goddess, are happening a bit more and more) seem to be the best time, although honestly, I enjoy going empty and silent, too. That is why The Mother’s Wisdom Deck project (coming May 1st) was such a gift for me even though it was fast and furious. I poured so much of my experiences and emotions, courage, endurance and intuition into the paintings, which helped me grow as well as reflect inwardly. And HOW I am ready for even more connecting and mama-energy and honesty and opening on this path. We (the authors of the Deck and I) are currently creating another mama-community-site, which is set to launch in a couple weeks. I hope you will join us then AND upon reading this post, run over to The M.A.P.P. Gathering to sign up and join the expanding, awesome conversation of mothering. I know you will be grateful you did!

Tulsi stayed with my parents for a whoppin’ 52 hours while I went to NYC for the children’s book art show, etc., and I can’t tell you how much my heart and head ran around with this decision before I made it (supported by Patrick and my parents). Some of you might not think a couple of days is a big deal, but it was huge for me. And for Tulsi. We had not spent more than 5 hours apart since the first day of her life, when we’d been separated seconds after her traumatic birth. So it was not an easy decision. Would she feel secure that I would come back? How would she sleep? Would she be distant from me after? And of course, I worried about something happening to either one of us. I know it might sound silly to some mothers who have already grown through the early years, but as a mother, I know your whole heart and being are in every present moment, and you feel each phase fully. It is “everything” in that moment. I knew ultimately she’d be ok, but of course I still questioned if it was necessary. And when some friends quickly responded, “It’s fine — growing pains are good for her,” I cringed and hesitated even more. I mean, she’s only 2 1/2. I didn’t want to force growing pains — or push her to grow up faster than she needs to. But the more I felt into it, I knew I needed to go to NYC for me, and well, it’s a big step for a mama to ‘take time’ for herself. It’s always easy to put that aside for later.

And so I went. And she stayed. And she wailed when I left (but for a mere 30 seconds my mom said), and I cried in line at the airport, too. In an instant, I was on my own, and it was odd. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Or how to walk. There was an open space. And even though Tulsi was on my mind a lot, I breathed deep and appreciated my mind and back relaxing. I had lunch at a sidewalk cafe with an old friend and a sweet dinner with two mama-friends, relating in that mama-to-mama way, with a glass of wine. It felt slightly like a forced vacation (albeit work), but I was happy I went. Tulsi learned to walk like a penguin, that monkeys like hammocks, too, and she learned all about baseball.

When it came to night, I didn’t sleep much at all. My mom said Tulsi didn’t sleep well either and that she rocked her a lot of the night. I loved that my mom said she didn’t mind at all, because she knew it helped Tulsi feel secure, and I immediately wondered if my mom misses those rocking-her-babies days, like I know I will miss someday.

As I watched Tulsi draw Nama and her, and describe all the details, I knew how important those 52 hours were, for her, too: ”This is Nama holding me like a baby, rocking me. Her arms stretched out. She has boobies. I have nipples. She has a belly button. I have a belly button.” She drew both their eyes wide open and said they ”were looking at each other”. And then she colored purple over her own face and said, “Me close my eyes and sleep with Nama. She hold me like a baby.”

What a beautiful moment, a gift, that she will always carry with her, that came from those 52 hours, and my own letting go. I know it has strengthened their connection, too. All 3 of them. As for Tapas (my dad), she drew the photo below and said, “Tapas is funny.” :) Like my note to Tulsi, I’m sure her pictures will make my parents happy.

This is a collaboration Tulsi and I did together although I only made the left eye and mouth. She is in a phase of wanting me to paint or draw with her. She knows the word “collaboration”. Ha. So I play, too, but I try not to screw up anything she has done so effortlessly. Tulsi calls this one, “Talking guy”. She loves to look at Picasso’s books. It shows. Watercolors have always been scary for me, but Tulsi is helping me get over my fear. Kids have no fear.

Here is another collaboration — she made the drawing a few months ago. It’s a family portrait: That’s me on the left, Oso got cropped off a bit up top, Tulsi is on the right with her mouth wide open, and Papa is big and center with the funny hair and big nose and smile. I added the 3 creamy collage shapes and used an antique varnish to mesh it with a wooden box frame. It was our father’s day present for Papa.

I love playing art with Tulsi. We get lost in it and forget about the world. I hope she always remembers that sacred place she can go to.

So we made a mask and she sat in front of a mirror on the floor holding it up, yelling, “CAAAAWW, CAAAAAAWWW!” for fifteen minutes. She reminded me how much I love corrugated cardboard and tape.

Tulsi, I never questioned whether we gave you the “right” name or not. I always knew it was perfect. You are a rare and beautiful spirit. I see the Divine every time I look into your eyes and heart! I have treasured every moment of your first 2 years with us, watching who you are today and who you are becoming. Thank you for taking my hand and showing me how to draw flowers (again) for the first time. For pointing out the fish swimming in the orange clouds at sunset. For giving me spontaneous love, always a hug AND a kiss, never just one. For looking me in the eyes. For asking to hold my hand. For insisting on long walks in the woods when I’ve been inside for too long. For inviting me to lay down on the ground so close next to you to say, “HI BUG!” at the long-legged, glistened winged insect walking by. I am so excited for who I have become, and who I am becoming, too, because of this gift of being your Mama. I love you all the way up to your toes!

How awesome every single “first” is. Side by side this morning drawing, Tulsi draws her way into her first “fun guy”, all by herself, and shouted, “Look, Mama! A fun guy!” She laughed out loud cause it was “fun” to make, too. Don’t you wish you could remember your own first “fun guy”?

A friend found this sticker in a store in Boulder, and I had to share it. I’m pretty far from being enlightened, but I do feel enlightened about life in ways I never was before being a mother. Every path has something powerful to teach us, and I am grateful to be walking this one.

Not that I feel like I know what I’m doing all the time — I wonder whether I can do more or if my choices and instincts are ‘right’.  I was meditating on that recently, wondering if it’s ok that I don’t take Tulsi all the way to town for tumbling or music class or storytime like other cool moms I know. Is it ok that we spend our days tiptoeing thru the woods after coyotes or lying in the meadow watching clouds sail by and leaves fly? (A mother’s mind can question herself a lot if she lets it.) And after a few minutes of slight panic, I thought about how we all just have to walk our own walk and play in whatever way feels right for us. We can be inspired by each other, but it’s perfect for it all to look differently. These little years are our unique gift to our babes.

I’ve been trying to remember every day — especially when I’m tired, or when my mind wanders to a project I’ll work on when Tulsi falls asleep, or when she’s trying to tell me something that requires total stillness on my part to understand her, or when she doesn’t eat, or nurses a lot at night, or when she is watching me interact with others — that being her mother IS my practice right now. I’m not sitting in the mornings, and I don’t have my stellar home yoga practice that I used to, BUT mothering is a 24-7 meditation-heart-asana practice, so of course it will be the most challenging (and amazing) practice I could do. Especially if I keep this in view. Let thoughts float in and out without judgement…and soften. For now, being as present as I can, and following her lead, and sharing my loves with her, and answering her endless questions, and cuddling+smiling often, and being gentle and forgiving (to myself), and staying OPEN to learn from other mothers, and even giving her space when she walks away, I can do. Each day, each moment, is my chance to practice and grow. If I stutter or make a mistake, I have another chance with my very next inhale. We all do. And what a beautiful thing that is.

………………….

Erin Ross created these great stickers — thanks, Erin! — and you can order some for gifts to your mama friends. Email her at: motherhoodlotus@gmail.com

Photo above by (I think) Edouard Boubat from Motherpeace: A Way to the Goddess through Myth, Art, and Tarot, by Vicki Noble (AWESOME)

The past two weeks I’ve gotten even less sleep than usual, and I’ve felt more alive. Wild, huh? And I feel really happy, in a different way than my usual giddy-cause-I’m-Tulsi’s-mama-kind-of-way. All because I’ve been creating.

It’s like I’m finding myself again with my art. My art is the thing that sorta defined me before I became a mother (ha) — as much as any one thing can define a person. Then, all of a sudden, I was a mama — a new mama who had no spark to create anything ‘else’. I remember wondering if that was normal. (Was I still an artist, or was I now a mother?) Then that mama became a mama who struggled to create with deadlines in the wee hours of the night (to pay some bills). Then that mama became the mama, who suddenly felt inspired again to create art but had no time and little energy at the end of the day to do it — the mama who kept wondering, “how the heck are other mamas doing it?” And somehow … maybe with time or being more gentle on myself, or maybe with erasing any dividing lines between the two “me’s”, or simply feeling the purest desire to do both, I’ve become a mama who is also an artist — and making art. Whew! It is such a journey and a continual balancing act, I know, but I think it’s important to shout out a big thank you to the universe when life IS in balance, don’t you?

(The projects I’m working on, I can’t share until they are published…but it will be fun when I can!)

And I see how making art grounds me, like a full day digging in the garden, barefoot. And how it fills me, like harvesting and preserving enough food from our garden to last the whole winter. And how it challenges and grows me, like every moment I’m with my Tulsi — the fun, tough, and every one in between. And that it’s just as important for me to make art, as it is for Tulsi to see her mama doing what she loves. I wonder how being a mother will change me as an artist. It’s bound to…

I’m going to take some liberty to add to Ben Shahn’s “capsule recommendation for a course of education (for an artist)” : Become a mother. To anything. A baby or pet or horse or garden. Know what it’s like to take care of someone else first. To set your art aside for some time, if needed. To give all of yourself, even when you are exhausted and to trust and let go of yourself to become someone new.

For you mamas out there, I’m curious what you let go of when you became a mother, and did you find it again — or did it find you again?