09/05/2026
My son Ayaan told me today: ‘Mam, je veux que tu me donnes à manger la man’ouché saj avec tes mains’ (Mom, I want you to feed me the man’ouché with your hands). He said it, and I stopped. I was so weighed down by the heaviness of the day, rushing to finish my endless home and work tasks…
but he stopped me, telling me clearly that he needed more of me. We sat with that man’ouché together, and he took his time with every single bite.
I realized how amazing it is that he could verbalize his exact need. In a world that pushes for constant independence, today he reminded me that it’s okay to be vulnerable and simply ask to be fed.
I see him feeding my grandmother sometimes. Did she wish to become vulnerable again after all this life? Probably not, but it is what it is. We start our lives vulnerable and we end them vulnerable too, as the ego fades. But what happens in the middle? Do we work daily on our vulnerability? Do we allow it to live?
I asked myself: do I love to be fed by the hands of my beloved, my friends, or my parents sometimes? Deeply, purely, yes. 🌻
I worship hands filled with love, and I make poetry out of these fragile moments. I melt into the wonder of existence. I breathe, and I am. ✨
Thank you, Ayaan, for today’s reminder to melt a little more into my own being. 🌊🤍
