May is the month we officially honor mothers. Personally, I look back with gratitude at the women who came before me. I was blessed with a loving mother and strong grandmothers. Their cultures differed, but their struggles and strengths were similar.
Gramma and Grandpa Rojas, 1940’s
Gramma Rose, born as the daughter of a doctor in Mexico, expected a life of social status and privilege. Instead, she was orphaned young, moved to Colorado and developed fortitude living in cramped quarters with her older brother’s family. Her character was further honed through a stressful marriage to my grandfather and the six children that followed.
Nana Betty was born in Illinois, the daughter of Norwegian immigrants. Her romantic, roaring 20’s exuberance led to a teenage marriage to handsome, dark-haired Ed, my grandfather. At sixteen, she gave birth to my mother, Gloria, followed by the birth of my Uncle Eddy the next year. By the time she was twenty, the Great Depression had cast darkness across the nation. Burdened with two children and a husband struggling to keep food on the table, her girlish dreams had turned into harsh realities.
Nana Betty Bennett
Ultimately, after World War II, both women encouraged their husbands to leave their respective states and follow the dream of California. Neither knew what might lay ahead in the Golden State, but they had the courage to sell off their belongings and head West for a better life.
I once asked my Gramma Rose how she and Grandpa had the courage to leave their family and friends in Colorado. She shrugged and said with a smile, “Loco.”
Nana told me her mother cried and cried when the family had stopped by for a last goodbye before driving toward Highway 66.
“Why are you crying?” Nana asked.
Her mother replied, “Because I’ll never see you again.”
At the time, Nana thought her mother was being ridiculous. But, as it turned out, her mother was right. There were phone calls, but never another time together. Never another hug or shared meal.
Nana Betty and Gramma Rose have both been gone over twenty years now. Yet, I can hear them in my mind, recall poignant and bittersweet conversations. They are just two of the countless generations of women before me who carried on despite dashed dreams the best they could, with the opportunities that came their way.
This meditation is dedicated to them and to all the mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers and on and on and on……
Healing the Feminine Ancestral Soul will also be available in the Sleep Meditations Page.
UPDATE October 2014: MALALA is Awarded Nobel Peace Prize. As a CNN article puts it, “Malala is hope.”
post by Dana Taylor
“Education is Emancipation”
When my girl friends and I get together for lunch we often begin with a toast, “Thank God we were born Western women.” As college students we embraced the Women’s Liberation movement, reading Ms. Magazine, Fear of Flying, Betty Friedan and thinking equal-pay-for-equal-work was right around the corner. (Still waiting!)We turned up the radio for Helen Reddy, “I am woman, hear me roar…” We’ve come a long way, baby. Sort of…
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, patriarchal mindsets were joining forces with Jihad and the Taliban to imprison women behind the veil. Millions of women were forbidden basic education and personal liberty. One young woman, Malala, has taken a stand, been shot in the head, and continues to campaign for the education of women in the Arab world.
This extraordinary girl comes from extraordinary parents. Watch this Ted Talk by Ziauddin Yousafzai, an educator and father of Malala. You’ll see where her courage and inspiration began.
