An Ode to the Mother
For years, I thought, ‘I wished I’d known this years ago’, specifically about the recent development of my intuition, awareness around boundaries, and clear discernment of what serves my highest good versus what does not. I chalked it up to the personal growth train I’ve been riding since 2012. The grief of losing a parent was the route I took at the station I first hitched a ride.
In recent reflection, I realized the first part of my life was so stimulated by external experiences that the internal ones didn’t stand a chance. This life here might be by design, and my desire for all the experiences can’t be rushed, no matter how much I long to live fully. A recent message from Caroline Myss captured this very concept.
“We’re not looking for the meaning of life; we’re looking to experience aliveness.” — Joseph Campbell
The end of 2020 launched me into my guide archetype. Prior to this, I’d been held in cocoons of continued education, career development, partnerships, and communities of support. I stepped out on my own creating a solo breathwork practice and joining various women’s circles for the connection my heart desired.
I learned about the maiden, mother, and crone phases of life. I got intimate with my moon cycle and how that was reflected in my moods and connection to the Earth. I dug deep into reverence and reciprocity for all that I’m provided every day, from a place to lay my head to direct communion with Spirit.
This current phase of the mother is all about responsibility, as is the lesson of the child archetype. That can feel cumbersome, encompassed by the maiden's free spirit and the crone's big-picture perspective. Both are closer to the other side than this middle stage, where it feels we’re consumed in figuring it out — our faith is still under construction.
Allowing ourselves to live in the space of childlike wonder is a healthy practice when balanced with the ability not to lose ourselves there. Standing up to injustice and taking care of self and home are lessons of living. Chop wood and carry water as a means to presence.
This is midlife. It feels like a crisis when our rebellious spirits long for what was once known as stimulation coupled with the remembering of internal awareness — our soul connection. We’ve done the bulk of the work, and we see a shift is coming because the calm before the storm is charged with a vibration of excitement.
God is found in the paradox. I’m on a precipice of change I haven’t experienced for 30 years, at a time when physical development was so rapid transition seasons were days long.
My desire for the light within me to spread through every far-reaching corner of the universe is so visceral that it pulls at the very core of my center. My heart could leap from my chest at any moment. My need to be stable, consistent, and grounded in my home has never been greater.
Just as giving birth doesn’t come easily, neither does acceptance. At this moment, I am exactly where I need to be with just the right amount of knowledge that brought me here. It is a gift to feel so deeply into the lived experience, and I’m sure my longing will find an outlet.
I’ve shaped my life around time to be with my kids as they prepare to leave the nest. While their transition seasons are days long, I want to be the grounded force they can turn to in navigating the intensity of the external world.
“The Tao is called the Great Mother: empty yet inexhaustible, it gives birth to infinite worlds. It is always present within you. You can use it any way you want.” — The Tao Te Ching
