A Mother's Day Thought, from an Eastern Perspective

[400lbsonacubseatspring]

I found this verse in my studies of other religions, and find it touchingly appropriate for Mother's Day, although now over 2500 years old. The Mother / Child relationship is one of the few things that is unchanging, and is common to all cultures.



The causes and conditions from accumulated
kalpas grows heavy,
Until in this life the child ends up in
its mother's womb.
As the months pass, the five vital
organs develop;
Within seven weeks the six sense organs
start to grow.
The mother's body becomes as heavy as
a mountain;
The stillness and movements of the fetus
are like a kalpic wind disaster.
The mother's fine clothes no longer
hang properly,
And so her mirror gathers dust.


The pregnancy lasts for ten lunar months
And culminates in difficult labor at the
approach of the birth.
Meanwhile, each morning the mother is
seriously ill
And during every day is drowsy and sluggish.
Her fear and agitation are difficult
to describe;
Grieving and tears fill her breast.
She painfully tells her family
That she is only afraid that death
will overtake her.


On the day the compassionate mothers bears
the child,
Her five organs all open wide,
Leaving her totally exhausted in body
and mind.
The blood flows as from a slaughtered
lamb;
Yet, upon hearing that the child is
healthy,
She is overcome with redoubling joy,
But after the joy, the grief returns,
And the agony wrenches her very insides,


The kindness of both parents is profound
and deep,
Their care and devotion never cease.
Never resting, the mother saves the
sweet for the child,
And without complaint she swallows the
bitter herself.
Her love is weighty and her emotion
difficult to bear;
Her kindness is deep and so is her
compassion.
Only wanting the child to get its fill,
The compassionate mother doesn't speak
of her own hunger.


The mother is willing to be wet
So that the child can be dry.
With her two breasts she satisfies its
hunger and thirst;
Covering it with her sleeve, she protects
it from the wind and cold.
In kindness, her head rarely rests
on the pillow,
And yet she does this happily,
So long as the child is comfortable,
The kind mother seeks no solace for herself.


The kind mother is like the great earth.
The stern father is like the encompassing
heaven
One covers from above' the other supports
from below.
The kindness of parents is such that
They know no hatred or anger toward
their offspring,
And are not displeased, even if the
child is born crippled.
After the mother carries the child in
her womb and gives birth to it,
The parents care for and protect it
together until the end of their days.


Originally she had a pretty face and a
beautiful body,
Her spirit was strong and vibrant.
Her eyebrows were like fresh green
willows,
And her complexion would have put a
red rose to shame.
But her kindness is so deep she will
forego a beautiful face.
Although washing away the filth injures
her constituion,
The kind mother acts solely for the
sake of her sons and daughters
And willingly allows her beauty to fade.


The death of loved ones is difficult
to endure.
But separation is also painful.
When the child travels afar,
The mother worries in her village.
From morning until night, her heart is
with her child,
And a thousand tears fall from her eyes.
Like the monkey weeping silently in
love for her child,
Bit-by-bit her heart is broken.


How heavy is the parents' kindness and
emotional concern!
Their kindness is deep and difficult to
repay.
Willingly they undergo suffering on their
child's behalf.
If the child toils, the parents are
uncomfortable.
If they hear that he has travelled afar,
They worry that at night he will have
to lie in the cold.
Even a moment's pain suffered by
their sons or daughters
Will cause the parents sustained distress.


The kindness of parents is profound and
important.
Their tender concern never ceases.
From the moment they awake each day,
their thoughts are with their children.
Whether the children are near or far away,
the parents think of them often.
Even if a mother lives for a hundred
years,
She will constantly worry about her
eighty-year-old child!
Do you wish to know when such kindness
and love ends?
It doesn't even begin to dissipate
until her life is over.

It is said that Shakyamuni (the skinny golden Buddha), during his lifetime, one day took several thousand disciples for a walk upon a country road. They came upon a pile of old bones. Shakyamuni bowed to the smaller, darker ones, and began to weep. His attendant asked him why was he weeping over old bones?

He said that the smaller, darker ones, were of a woman. A man's bones grow strong and white, but a womans grow weak, and dark, because she gives all of herself, even her own body, to her children in life. This is how much a mother cares for her children.

He then addressed his followers with the above verse, which I'm told was something of a poem in the original Sanskrit.

For all that they are, and have always been to us, Happy Mother's Day to all of your Wives, Mothers, and Daughters...............

And, Thanks, Mom....