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Dear friends,
This is to honor your mothers, and the mothering impulse we all inherit...after Mother's Day on Sunday.
...
I honor you each holding a mother in your
heart
or a memory of a mother, or a
wish for a mother.
...
I honor all
of the mothers whose love and attention
handed you down to this
moment, where you are,
where you
can breathe the spring air and listen
to
the sound of the cardinals
calling to each other.
There are no mothers who have perfected the art,
who have gotten it all right. But love is the beginning
and end of every story. In this story, I honor those
who gave milk, combed hair,
stitched clothes,
offered herbs,
sometimes songs. Who held
and walked
with and taught how
to hold a spoon.
Who failed in every way possible to be more than
human, but who still got up in the morning to give
it their fierce best.
Thank
you, mother, and grand-mothers, who landed
us here, gave us this
chance, this life. We drink it
in, like wine, and sometimes it makes us giddy, sometimes
we want to howl from all the sorrows. But, at last,
you gave us this chance to sip, to even get drunk,
and what can we do, but to thank you each morning,
roll up our sleeves, and walk out the front door
with arms spread wide.
...
With bows to the mother forces in your life,Cynthia
Cynthia Yoder
Intuitive Coaching
and Sound Healing
Extraordinary Coaching
Extraordinary Means
Tel. 609-799-6071
mail@cynthiayoder.com
www.cynthiayoder.com
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| Calendar of Events |
These events are in my heart, being remade, as my attention turns toward writing!
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Highlight from
Life in the Slow Lane (a free periodic mailing)
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I am one with the dawn
The singing birds, I am one with them,
and their celebration of the dawn.
The dancing leaves, I am one with these;
I am one with their dance and with their
play in shadow and new light.
The sprouting grasses-- I am one with the
sprouting and with their bold blades jutting
up toward the sky.
The dark soil beneath me, I am one with this,
too, and I bow to the worms, who remind me
how life steadily rises and falls through
the seasons. I bow to their blind search
for simple things like food and air, and
simple comforts like a cool night in spring,
when the birds are asleep and the people
are still, and the earth is wide and peaceful.
I bow to this. I am one with the searching,
I am one with the finding or the not finding.
I am one with seeing nothing and feeling only
the dark fertility of soil around me, like a womb
or like a grave, knowing it is both the womb
and the grave, all at once. I am one with this.
I am one with old self dying and the new self
being born. I am one with this. I bow to this.
.....
For more "Life in the Slow Lane" writings, visit my blog, magicdreamhouse.com.
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From our archives...
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Mother of the World
Once there was a beautiful maiden, whose hair flowed down to her
feet, and who had eyes that reflected the clear pools of the earth when
it was first formed.
Since the beginning of time, this maiden lived in the mansion of the sky seekers, which was a mansion set in the place between heaven and
earth.
One day, a prince from the earthly realms caught sight of her. We
don't know how it was possible, because no one could ever see the maiden with
their physical eyes. They only knew she was there because legends said so. But this prince saw her with his earthly eyes and was smitten with love.
He knew in an instant that the only way to win her heart would be to learn the flute, and learn a song
so exquisite, that she would not be able to resist it.
So he spent years perfecting his craft. He listened to the birds. He listened to the crickets, to the song of the frogs. He listened to the leaves as the wind whistled through them, and he listened to the longing of his heart, and how it led him to these things. When he played, he played these songs back to the leaves and to the crickets and to the frogs, and people gathered around him, curious to know how he could have learned such beautiful music.
One day, he went out underneath the stars, and played his song. The longing in his heart to be heard by the beautiful maiden was so strong, that when he played, the sound of the flute changed and became love itself wafting on the wind to the ears of the maiden.
The maiden was so surprised to hear a song so pure and so filled
with longing, that she walked down the staircase of her mansion to the
earth.
When they met, and gazed into each other's eyes, the staircase
between the worlds was opened. From that day
onward, humans could access the heavens, and the gods could understand
the human realms in ways that they could not before. From that day onward, the maiden was not just a legend, but a presence that men and women in every time found in their own way.
It is said that this goddess at times takes on human form so that she can make contact with other humans and learn from them and their ways. It is also said that her human counterpart, the prince, still plays the flute for her at night, when the stars are out, and the crickets can accompany him. But since the staircase is now open, we do not need to wait until she appears. It is said that a simple request,
made with a heart of longing, brings her to us, and that she gazes upon us her with
eternal eyes and wraps us in arms of light, even when we are not aware.
Some have given her the name "Mary." Some call her, "Amma," or
mother. She has many names, some of which have not yet been spoken.
Some say that her name is the name of all of us, if it was possible to speak
all of the names throughout history, together, all at once.
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