|The mother. Who is she? |
Mom. Mama. Ma. Madre. Mommy. Ina. 母亲. Mère.
Mother Hen. Mamma Bear. Matriarch. Protective.
Intuitive. Nurturer. Giver. Sacrificial. Instinctual. Fierce. Gentle. Provider.
All things she’s been called – but who is she?
The Mother is first Woman. When I consider woman I can’t help but ask these questions: “What does woman tell me about who God is?” “How does she reflect the feminine side of the soul?”
I don’t have children of my own. No one is present on this beautiful Earth – carrying my DNA, nor my features.
And yet. I mother. I mother because they mothered me. The women who mothered me built a shelter for me when I had none. Showed me their compass when I was lost. Looked me in the eyes and told me I was loved when I could not see myself.
The women who mothered me pulled from me a higher self to a higher plane of understanding. They mothered me when I wept, angered, hurt, celebrated and rejoiced.
They mothered me when they held me in embrace and kissed my cheek.They mothered me when they spoke words of compassion to my inner one. They believed my story and carried my cross with me.
You see, the Mother goes down in the dirt. She digs her hands into the soul – unconcerned with the stain of black and red clay which embeds under her nails thru her laboring.
The Mother knows the smell of the Earth. She is planted and grounded – drinking from the river of life.
The Mother reaches high to the sky. Arms open wide for embrace. The light of the sun warms her face and her warmth radiates to those around her. She is connected to the air – the the very breath of God that brushes her hair across her face. As she breathes in and breathes out – she breathes new inspiration and wonder into those who nourish themselves nearby.
The Mother is fire. Her fire lives in her soul and her home. She stokes her own fire – she knows who may sit in peace around her fire and those who would threaten to put the fire out. She is the keeper of her doorway- her spark. She knows that if she does not attend to this spark and fan it into flame – the mothering will dwindle even for her own inner one.
And so she remains consistently connected to her inner fire so that those around her may experience the wholeness of her creativity and goodness. Perhaps, they will find their own inner spark from the light of her fire.
The Mother bathes herself in the water. The water of life and emotion. This water runs deep. Deep thru her veins and into her heart. This water is healing, cleansing and new every morning. It ebbs and flows as she heals and grows.
The water she carries is her source. It connects her to all living things. She waters her self in and out as that water flows thru her roots and into those who search for the same healing and cleansing as she.
She knows what it is to engage in the flow of this river of life. She knows what it is to enter in with fear, delight and exhilaration. Where will it take her? Where will the current go? Who will she meet along the banks of her River? Who will intertwine with her river as she sways with the rush of her River?
The Mother understands that life and soul are outside of time- she understands that her movements, her work and her love pour out into others the deeper she walks into her River. She is becoming, bathing and embracing. She is life.
She wasn’t always this way. The rings in her base shows damage from fire, flood and storm. She knows what it is to claw her way through trial and tribulation. She is ever-bearing, and the ever-green of persistence and resolve. Her rings reflect her inner work and her regeneration. She mothered herself with the embodiment of her soul; to regrowth and restoration.
Who is this Mother? The tree that stands tall in the forest and feeds those around her.
She is you. She is me.