2023 the year we learn to listen to life

Week 19--in which we remember our Mother--our ancient eternal Mother

Friends, soul writers, mystics, witches, and lovers of prayer,

Today is Mother’s Day in the US. Other countries celebrate mothers at different times and seasons. But it seems all cultures find a day to honor the sacred gift of mothering.

In ancient Greece everyone honored Rhea, the mother of the gods. But that was just one name. In all pre-patriarchal matrilineal cultures, everyone acknowledged the Goddess as the mother of all gods with countless names and stories. She might be Isis in Egypt. Asherah in Israel. Kali in India. Hecate, Astarte, Stella Maris…. There is no end to her recognition and devotion.

She is Everywhere by Her Sacred Image artist, Cathy Pratt

Wherever you look you find Her. Always with three faces—maiden, mother, crone. And three titles—Queen of Heaven, Queen of Earth, Queen of the Underworld.

And we, we in female bodies, were revered for millennia as Her embodiment on earth. We were magic. Because we are magic. We are the magic of life and the magic of death and rebirth. Whether we become physical mothers or not.

We are made in Her Image.

Sound familiar? That language was stolen and twisted into the male of the species being made in a male god’s image. But think for half a second. If god is only male energy, and god has no body, then how can that god create anything. It’s simple. He can’t.

Growing up totally inculcated in the christian image of god as a cranky old man with a long white beard who does nothing but spew rules and punishment and demand that humans fear him, I should have asked the nuns and priests what was wrong with that picture. But I did not. No one did.

But then, my son arrived just as I was turning 41, and suddenly I was a mother. And with his arrival, I felt a need welling up to introduce him to a spiritual life. Unfortunately, the only spiritual world I knew was catholic. So off to catholic church we went. Until I could not bear it another moment. The lies from the pulpit were heartless. Turns out the obsession with sin has not abated since my childhood, but it had a new target: women (of course), women who wanted birth control and the freedom to choose how many children they had.

Really?

Tell that to all the women in the pews doing whatever they needed to do to control their fertility. I looked around shocked that every one of them was sitting silent and docile, looking down at her hands, while the male priest spewed invective over them.

My return to the catholic church didn't last long. But the need was still there. But where does a catholic go when she doesn’t want to be a catholic anymore? Episcopalian, that’s where. So off I went with my 2 ½ year old to an adorable episcopalian chapel. I was pleasantly surprised. I knew all the prayers. I knew when to sit and when to stand. And the lesson was rather sweet. No mention of sin or the horrors of women controlling their own bodies.

Things were going rather well. Until the closing blessing. As the priest intoned: May God bless you, the father, the son, and the holy spirit, I gently moved my son’s fist from his forehead to his heart and his shoulders.

In the silence that followed, he looked at me and said in a loud theatrical whisper, “Where’s God the Mother?”

Oh my! My toddler was asking me the very question I needed to ask myself. And never had. Well, where was She? Where was God the Mother?

That was the end of my Episcopalian experiment and the end of my attempt to find a home in christianity.

Without the Mother, I had no home.

So off I went to search for God the Mother, a search that has continued these 32 years, and will continue until I die. And beyond. Because I have found Her. And I know I will return to Her.

Goddess Rising by Her Sacred Image artist Cathy Pratt

In my daily deep soul writing, I address Her by name. The top of my page looks like this:

My Mother – Sophia!
Our Lady – of the Thresholds
The Queen – of Magicians

There is a lot of ancient knowing in those three lines. Note that She has three names and three faces:

1. First, a personal Mother with a sweet personal name.

   I have called Her some version of Sophia since She first arrived on December 26, 2014 with the name, Beloved Vibration of Sophia!

2. Second, a global Madonna with a location, a place.

   All “Our Ladies” are connected with a place, like Our Lady of Notre Dame in Paris, Our Lady of Czestochowa in Poland, and so on. For me, her most precious place is the threshold between worlds, the mystical theta brainwave state. That’s where I meet her and hear Her.

   The ability to drop into the mystical theta brainwave state is key to a rich and joy-filled spiritual life. My next prayer intensive coming in August will invite you to explore 5 different ways to drop into theta. I’m in the process of creating it right now.

3. Third, her Cosmic self.

   The ancients called Her Queen of Heaven, Earth and Underworld. And She is. But about a year ago, I began to call her The Queen of the Aeon. Cosmic indeed!

   Then, as The A.R.T. of Becoming a Witch began to emerge, She announced Herself as The Queen of Magicians and oh, oh, oh how I love that title!

   So Queen of Magicians She is. Addressing her that way has transformed my prayers.

Who is God the Mother for you? What is Her name? Or Names?

All I can say, as we celebrate Mother’s Day, is that if you speak to Her, She will listen.

If you call Her, She will come.

to finding the Mother!

Janet

PS: Want to see more of Cathy Pratt's artwork? Here's her website Her Sacred Image.

website: janetconner.com

facebook: janet conner prayer artist

YouTube: Janet Conner