We baptized Munga “of the Mountains” this past weekend.It makes me very happy to share my special new home with my mother. I want, and plan, to share it with all my family (and my sister will be there soon enough), but I know my mother really needs a retreat, and now she has one: an even more special one than my house here in Oakland (even though it’s also a retreat, in the sense that it’s far away from her own).
Munga works too hard, and she takes care of too many people besides herself. She is good at many, many things, but one thing she’s very, very bad at is being good to herself.
But I can be good to her. I’ve been observing her my entire life, studying her compassion and emulating her caregiver instincts, and I’ve learned a few tricks. I’ve learned how to be like Munga, but also how not to be like her. I’ve learned how to do for others, but also how to do for myself. How to take vacations. How to fit in projects and purchases and parties for me, and for Trent – even for Sam. In this most recent chapter of my life, I am actively perfecting my skill at saying “no.”
I’m only half Munga, after all, which is exactly what a full Munga needs some times. Someone who knows how to be like her just enough, so they can be like her for her, in ways she would never think of for herself.So, I took her to the woods and sequestered her, to give her a dose of the things she deserves. We cooked for her every day and forced her to drink. We took her to the river, we took her winetasting. By the last day she slept until nearly sunrise? One of these days I will get her to leave her laptop in Michigan, but this was just the first of many such “mandatory relaxation trips” to 2381. She was a willing and well-behaved subject; I’m counting on her to show up for more, and to smile this beautifully through it all: Don’t make me disable your wireless access remotely so your email stops working and you can’t work…
Can I do that?
I DON’T KNOW. Can I?
Nah… Just kidding.
OR AM I?
See all our pics of Munga and Char in the mountains here.