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One weary day reflecting on being a mother, I wondered what it would be like for Sisyphus's mother to not only be holding him and his bloody great big boulder, but to be holding the mountain as well? I thought that despite her exhaustion, her burnout, despite the mountain, the boy and the boulder, she'd eventually come to the only thing she could do and say. "I'm holding you darling..." Reflections on being held and loved as we delve behind the pain and joy of this fearsome life.
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Showing posts from October, 2022
