The Mother’s Embrace

In this time of remembering, we find ourselves searching and seeking.

We are wandering through caves of expression and wintering in our deepest selves to find a way through to the understanding. Where is the clarity that we crave?

– by Maeve Clodagh

“Mother & Baby 2019” illustrations © Dyana Wells

In unison we pray for a vision of peace and belonging. But how do we find it without trust? How do we discover the place of sovereignty without the belief that it lies already within us? How do we find a way to cleanse our greater selves amongst the ashes of the fires which burn for our becoming? 

We are burning. Together we are burning in a great and timely flame; ignited from the core of her womb, of the Mother whom we walk upon. Those who can see this flame can also see their footprints imprinted in her caves; can see the time they have spent in her darkness and in her channels of birth. They can see where they have trusted and where they have fallen to their knees and where they have emerged into the light once again. Opening herself up to bring us to surface, we are born through the Yoni of her movements, her forces of change, where rock moves upon rock and hot earth flows. We are born the same way that we are submerged into her at the moment of death, through a point of pure resistance and deep understanding that enables us to emerge with a clarity that is potent and life giving. We cannot lose our place on her. Death does not separate us, it simply moves us through her and allows us to see the fabric of our universal bond, our synchronicity and our ability to be all, seamlessly.

Her magic is our magic. We have no boundaries other than the ones we create. Our destiny does not speak of a dominant power, it speaks of a place of knowing, of emergence, of tenderness, of simplicity, of grace, of justice and of deep surrender. Power is a word which can draw us to believe that we have conquered. In truth, when we come home to ourselves, we have lost all, and we have allowed ourselves to be nothing and everything all at once. When we arrive at this place, we are entire and so there is no reflection required, there is only the experience. In that experience there is no potential or capacity for dominance. And so the word becomes obsolete, and must become its counterpart; the power which is, all that is.

This power is born of truth and synchronicity and leaves no stone unturned in its movement through our embodied selves. It is the light which transfuses us when all else seems to fall away. It fills the crevasses of the Mother, breathing for her when she cannot take another breathe; finding ways to transform even in the times of greatest distress. We are breathing as one and we are burning as one.

The footprints of our ancestors can be seen as soon as we begin to see our own. They muddy the same waters, they have left their fossilized patterns in the deepest caves, they have continued long after the place of wintering and rest and they have come to stand, as the trees, rooted at our sides for our great journey. When we see their faces illuminated in our own reflection, we see not only their birth and death, but the choices they have made of surrender and of witnessing; and the trials which they have endured in order to bring us all closer to the truth. They share these stories through their whisperings and their timely nudges, through their wisdom and their ineffable presence and through their dedication and commitment to their role as care-givers. When we call their names we lift them to our senses and we can feel their dreams and their universal destiny singing in our hearts. We cannot lose them and we cannot resign them; they are as tangible and enduring as our bodies. 

 We are waiting; a great unified breath has been taken and we endeavour to find its release. As one, we stand divided and united, picking at the edges of the seams. The cloth which weaves a spell of individuality is becoming torn and we are allowing it, slowly, meticulously and sometimes determinedly, to unfold. After the first tear there is give and the threads are exposed. There is room for a gentler motion, a unified unfolding which is taking us home, collectively. 

There is only one thing for us to do. Surrender. Feel our vulnerability and our needs. See ourselves in each moment as an evolutionary being of great perfection. Resurrect the compassion which may be disguised or turn up only in the easier moments. Bathe ourselves in forgiveness for each and every thing which brings us to shame, or loss, or feelings of inadequacy and feelings of deep regret and indifference. Allow ourselves to feel anger and frustration and know that they are doors to our greatest healing. Trust that the world is waiting for our heart to emerge, tenderly and testing, as a butterflies newborn wings spread themselves towards the sun. We are an endless supply of love, deep in our cells we are beginning again in each moment. Feel the rebirth and trust that you are already here, in that place where you are longing to be.

“The Mother’s Embrace” © 2021 Maeve Clodagh