Hamburger in the Bookshelf

What is it about being a mother? Mr.B called himself one too. Perhaps just to make it clear that he wanted to be seen as a servant; the later years he wasn't able to join the physical work of his community. He claimed that his monks are spiritually voracious, so he needs to preach quite a lot, even against the regulations of the General Chapter. His sermon collections had more than double the amount of allowed sermons for a year, and also sermons for all sorts of occasions that were not mantled at all. They were accepted, published and distributed under his own name; all of these are exceptions among the early cistercians.

The General Chapter allowed their abbots to give sermons only 16 fests per year. I wish, as a mother, that I had been given such a number too. Taking a quick glance to a room where my kids (there must be at least 99 of them) have dwelled without any constructive advice for 3 hours, makes me want to move away for any amount of time it takes them to grow up. What is it being a mom? Yes, it definitely is preaching. Preaching submerged with infinite amount of washing stuff. I recommend it to all that don't love relaxing holidays, quiet weekends, thinking long thoughts. It is a life of details. Francesca put it well in The Bridges of the Madison County:

 "You don't understand, no-one does. When a woman makes the choice to marry, to have children; in one way her life begins but in another way it stops. You build a life of details. You become a mother, a wife and you stop and stay steady so that your children can move. And when they leave they take your life of details with them. And then you're expected move again only you don't remember what moves you because no-one has asked in so long. Not even yourself."

In the end of the day it's a hamburger in the bookshelf between your favourite books; you suddenly become Mr.B and start to plan your next sermon. You realise staying put, stabilitas loci is the only constructive way to live with all the possible and impossible conditions and interests they have. When someone asks how you're doing, you start talking about God.

Meet the unconventional Moomin family. This story is in the first part of Tove Jansson's Moomies Collections. I'm not sure why this specific block inspires me at the moment so much.

 One of the good sides of staying put, stabilitas loci, is that you can grow also other stuff (along with kids). And one of the good things in that, is that one don't need to do any preaching in order to make that happen. You just set the scenery, give water, and they know how to shoot and sprout with'hout a single comment. That's a miracle. I wonder if my gardenlife will abide after the imperative stabilitas loci is over. I think it might. I see myself in my youngest daughter when she goes to walk the little paths in my garden: she goes a bit wacky when she sees the new buds over here, and something funny sprouting over there. When she was old enough to stay squatting beside me, she often came next to me when I was plugging out the weeds. She wanted to plug them too, and "ave diskushuns". She loved plugging the weeds and the diskushuns. She still does.

Yesterday my baby asked me next to the Muscari bed :"Mum, is there anyone that will keep me from staying little?", "Only time, love" I answered. "Does it help if I keep myself in a really tight bundle all the time?" Little RoyalBlue pearls full of secrets, ready to tinkle open at any time now.