Mother's Bed

Photo by Justin Wall

I remember the days serving at the Quiet Dogs Retreat Center up on the hill above Mother’s Bed. My mind would drift down to the water there on those dry, hot summer days, as I anxiously awaited a chance to steal away down the rattlesnake-laden trail to her cool, tranquil waters. The thought of Mother’s Bed still simultaneously excites and calms me.


That summer I spent living and serving at the Mountain of Attention Sanctuary is riddled with memories of her water. Every chance I would get, I would sneak off to her again. From my room at Goat’s Wool Blanket, I would dash past the Pile of Poles retreat quarters, down the grassy hill, past the abandoned pool, and along the flower garden. After saying hello to the miniature horses, it was then just a short, flat walk to the road.

Across the road, but still part of the sanctuary, lies Mother’s Bed. The path is hidden from view and just beyond a fence with a “Private Property: No Trespassing” sign. To the left, there is an abandoned horse paddock, and to the right at the end of the trail are steps cut out of the hill, leading up to Mother’s Bed.

Photo by Justin Wall

Excitement mounts each time I return there. On my walk up to the lake, I look along the trail for a suitable gift—a nicely-shaped leaf or a beautiful flower. At the top of the stairs, I am behind the cabana, and I anxiously make my way to the front, take off my shoes, and climb up onto the porch to offer my gift at my Beloved Guru’s wooden chaise. Even though he is not there, the cabana is always served and ready for his arrival, with flowers adorning the chair and cabana.

I recall back to that beautiful July day when I was blessed to be there with my Guru. He was having a picnic with his family at Mother’s Bed, and I was asked to come play my flute along with my friend Julie on violin and somebody I no longer recall on the harmonium. He sat in his chaise, and his family sat around him as they talked and laughed and we played our music. At one point, someone came over and offered us hot dogs and chips. I thought it was a rather strange meal, and then I remembered that it was actually the Fourth of July and, therefore, a rather fitting meal for the occasion. After we ate, we returned to our instruments. Everything grew still and quiet. One of my guru’s daughters fanned him in the heat, and he drifted off to sleep while we play. He looked so vulnerable sleeping there, and I felt so trusted and honored to be there playing music for Him while he slept.

When he awoke, he made his way down to the water and into the canoe. After circumnavigating the lake a few times, he rowed over to the raft in the middle of Mother’s Bed, got off the canoe, and onto the raft. All of us who were still on land made our way into the water, surrounding the raft. He silently granted his blessing as we floated there in the deep calm of his grace and the nurturance of the water of Mother’s Bed—like fully supported fetuses floating in the amniotic fluids of their mother’s wombs.

Photo by Justin Wall

My earliest dates (before we were even sure they were dates) with my now-husband all took place there. The first time we went to Mother’s Bed together, I had run into him at Paduka Mandir—a temple dedicated to prayer. I had some free time, and I asked him if he wanted to come with me to swim. My clueless friend overheard us and chimed in “I want to go to Mother’s Bed!” and tagged along on our first unofficial date. I supposed it didn’t matter that she joined us, as when we arrived, there were several other people there swimming and playing in the water, getting some relief on the hot, summer day.

The following week, I ran into him again. I did not know it at the time, but he was intentionally going to places where he thought he might “accidentally” see me. He was very shy, and while I was living on the sanctuary, I had no phone or other means to be easily contacted. I again asked him if he wanted to join me at Mother’s Bed, and we made plans to meet there. It was later in the afternoon this time, and we happened to be the only ones there. We swam out to the raft and lay there for hours, talking. Eventually, we realized it was going to be getting dark soon. We had completely dried off in the sun and were a bit wary of getting wet again to get back to land. Neither of us had remembered to bring a towel, and although the summer days and evenings were quite hot, we were feeling a bit chilled. We took the plunge and dove into the water, swimming back to shore. When we arrived, since we had no towels, we decide to quickly walk around the lake to dry off.

Photo by Justin Wall

After getting back to the road, we parted ways. We gave each other a quick peck and a hug and planned to meet again to go to dinner and a party. Although our first real kiss ended up being on the dance floor, I consider Mother’s Bed to be the backdrop of our burgeoning romance. We stole away to her waters at every chance we got. I encouraged him to go skinny-dipping with me, and we visited her both night and day. I often picture us, swimming and falling more deeply in love, in the her waters in the dead of night, feeling like we were the only two people in the world.

Now, we are still just as excited to visit Mother’s Bed. Every time we are visiting the sanctuary in the summer, we make sure to carve out time to spend at least one afternoon there. We bring our kids and show them how to offer gifts at my Guru’s seat. They grab the pool noodles from under the porch (though they are both perfectly capable swimmers) and swim out to the raft. Being kids, they rarely actually get on it, but they swim around and laugh and play games. We put them in the canoe—the very one my Beloved Guru used to circumnavigate the lake—and row around the lake ourselves. It is my safe place—it is the place I envision, with me floating in her calm waters—when I need to relax or when I am having my blood pressure taken. It is, indeed, my Mother’s Bed.