mano de madre

A generous teacher of mine once described my style of double-hand touch with massage as ‘mano de madre,’and it led to over a decade of exploring and pondering my identity as a care-providing practitioner. Mano de madre, or mothers hand, describes the way massage therapists sometimes use both of their hands at once. Maybe especially when one hand, or elbow, is applying intense pressure, the other hand is there as well, more as a comforting presence or for grounding. As if to say, ‘I’m here with you, always.’ I’m not sure but I don’t think that teacher, as wise as they were, could possibly have understood the underlying connection to maternal care that they were tapping into in my thoughts. To have touch convey safety, protection, and truly comforting presence is why I wanted to be a therapeutic touch provider, but I had yet to make that profound connection.

The thought that one could harness maternal touch even without the source of maternal presence in their life, and without being a mother themselves felt, both then and now, like magic. Both empowering and enlivening. Turning something I thought was impossible for me to possess (because my primary source of it was missing) into something I felt overwhelmingly proud of providing for myself (let alone be able to offer to others) wasn’t a way I thought about tending to my grief. This turned what was once my work into my purpose. What had been an assumed lack, a grieving, turned into a strength that people would gravitate toward. That massage class was a turning point both personally and professionally, and that teacher a treasure in my young life.

Our yearning for the maternal can lead us to embody the maternal with surprising potency. If you share this wound, I hope you have the ability to gently fill in the cracks of it and heal. Turning yourself into an art piece walking through life. A pristine vessel because of its shining, golden flaws, like kintsugi. Back then I began to understand how ever-present offerings of maternal nourishment are in this life. Friends as mother. Flowers as mother. Joyful experience as mother. Hardship as mother. Listening as mother. Compassion as mother. Before I knew it, mother wounds were patched up so exquisitely that I became grateful for everything I received and everything I hadn’t. This wound grew me.

What does maternal presence feel like to you?

mother is source. inspiration. fierce love and protection.

mother is compassion. care. creation and nourishment.

mother is awe. passion. encouragement and security.

mother is also self.

With these new maternal-love tinted glasses on, the world looked different, and I quickly and deeply recognized that there was maternal energy and tone to our time in massage sessions. I wanted to witness the shift that can happen in a hurting body or someone with depleted energy when they were offered this kind of care. The results were always (and have remained always) transformative. As if being held in loving presence is all we need. And now it’s the only kind of care I know how to offer.

If you should ever find yourself hurting or grieving a lack of maternal-feeling support in your life, please let me know. And if you only have a certain amount of funds that feels accessible to you, please let me know. No one should be without the nearness of loving support when they need it. I’d be honored to try and hold space for your heart.

I want to acknowledge those with mother loss.

I want to acknowledge mothers who have lost.

I want to acknowledge those who absolutely love being mothers.

I want to acknowledge those who have experienced mother harm.

I want to acknowledge those who would do anything to become a mother.

I want to acknowledge those who mother their siblings, friends, parents.

I want to acknowledge those who fiercely mother their dogs, cats, horses and hamsters.

I want to acknowledge those who care and provide for strangers.

I want to acknowledge those who celebrate being child-free.

I want to acknowledge those choosing to break family cycles.

I want to acknowledge those who didn’t get what they needed.

I want to acknowledge those who are learning to heal.

For the moms who try. Who are attentive. Who make things fun. Who are exhausted and spread thin but still giving. For moms with additional jobs. For families with two moms. On your best day of parenting and on your worst day of parenting. I celebrate you all for the ways you keep showing up.

Whatever your layers of feeling as this Sunday approaches, I see you and wish your heart ease.