Mother Has Come Home
A fierce responsibility calls to me in old age as I prepare for death. It cannot be left to chance or saved for a rainy day, or a more convenient moment. A call to wholeness is upon me. It demands a coming together, a joining, a bridge connecting the soaring heights and nethermost depths within me.

After a lifetime of internecine warfare I find myself on that intrepid journey into consciousness in a species that has lost its way. In the absence of a unitive framework the polarities that stand in readiness for their destined joining are waiting … waiting …

How am I to come home to myself, to join nature and spirit and fulfill my destiny of wholeness? I draw upon the revolution in women’s consciousness, the return of long exiled feminine principles and women’s way of knowing to resurrect the wholeness necessary for my task.

A refugee in my own species, the feminine half of my species nature has been cast aside for millennia. Abandoned, I have been wandering the earth in search of my soul for five thousand years. If you listen you will hear the call of the instinctual, archetypal depths of life summoning mother’s return. And she has responded. Mother has come home.

The tender mercies of her unconditional love, the resonant depths of her radical acceptance, her sacred bonding with all life forms – with our precious Gaia, her ecstatic experience of spirit in body are awakening from a long sleep of exile and are streaming through the world at this crossroad of our evolution – and that has changed everything: theories, philosophies, paradigms, customs, mores and mythologies.

As women’s way of knowing finds its way back into consciousness and culture, a new vision of wholeness is struggling to be born. For, without the feminine beloved, without women’s life-giving principles, the one eyed vision of patriarchy with its unrelenting emphasis on separation, has become a predatory and bestial detour. Holocausts, genocide, wars, and the ritual destruction of women and children are their legacy for future generations.

We have lost sight of our foundations. We simply cannot declare war on half of our own nature and remain a viable species, for we belong to an ongoing story, born of an evolutionary matrix.

Midwife to my own rebirth, I am wading through centuries of exile, uncovering women’s way of knowing to bring back to a species in crisis. It is part of the process of helping myself awaken from a soulless existence, to sacrifice a familiar but exiled self and bear the convulsive birth throes of a new consciousness that embraces the long forgotten feminine. It is this consciousness that acknowledges the deep wound in my heart, in all our hearts, as we face each day, each year, each century, each millennia, exiled, raped, battered, enslaved, demeaned, edited out of history, and unequal under the law.

Enough, the species cry as they dream us back from exile. Enough.

Out of the primeval mist, an ancient Siberian shamanka, in robes of kaleidoscope, papoose tied to her heart, travels down through the millennia on her totem amur, to lead us into the new world.

An archetypal image, her unitive soul lights the inner darkness. No longer exiled I am returning to the path of wholeness, to the dreams of the species, to the inner life, to the sacred rhythms of my body, to ancient structures and songs, to archetypal energies, to the fullness of my species.

Mother has come home
and heaven and earth rejoice
and heaven and earth rejoice
and heaven and earth rejoice

*    *    *


So you see my darling grandchildren, you belong to an ongoing story, a dream of wholeness, a cosmic family millions of years old, kin to every species from the first spark of life. Your task is to carry this precious dream of wholeness forward for your children and the children of generations to come.