The world is filled with Zen masters who live outside monastery walls.
We color mandalas with sidewalk chalk.
We ring meditation bells of rainbow-colored xylophones.
Our mantras are the stories we read with ego-melting repetition.
We hold asanas with babies in and on our bodies, going about our day as if our muscles are not on fire, not letting on how our bones beg for rest.
After enlightenment, we cook dinner and fold the laundry.
We pull energy from the depths of our fatigue.
Our life is one continuous act of service.
We practice breath work by blowing bubbles, exhaling with artful control to get the most out of each dip of the wand.
Our ascetic practices include eating the food scraps offered by our toddlers and what our babies throw on the ground, making meals out of bread crusts and apple peels.
We nourish young lives with our bodies.
With discernment, we are creators, preservers, and destroyers.
Embodying eternal love, we are One with the universal life force.
Though we may not wear saffron robes or have the luxury of sitting in quiet contemplation, we are here, humbly filling the world with Zen Master Mamas.