Pachamama

Pachamama

Mothers, mothers, everywhere as I scurry about the garden with power drill at ready looking to repair the outdoor furniture.  Mothers with bouquets of flowers; mothers all dressed up, children by their side, and of course, dad who is making all this possible, taking Mom to brunch.

I look at the lone guys, youngish, middle aged, what do they think as they view this parade?  Do the hungry wolves yearn for Mom no longer present in their lives?  Mom is really only a 15 to 20 year deal.  It is one of the cruelest facts one has to struggle with.  We all want Mom, but it’s really not possible once maturity is reached.  Perhaps we don’t necessarily yearn for the one who gave us birth, but uber Mom, the Virgin Mary, Mother Nature, Grand Mother, Mother Earth.  You know, the archetypal mother we carry within us, are born, defenseless and vulnerable with her loving image imbedded deep in our psyche.

One of the saddest statements I heard about Richard Nixon came from his national security advisor, Henry Kissinger, He would have been a great, great man if someone had loved him, Kissinger commented about the man he served.  One can spot those who have not been nurtured and loved by Mother; a mean spirited, distrustful lot, they lack the open hearted acceptance of what life offers.  

Mother has the power to situate one in life, for good or ill.  You can either be a wondrous darling, or a neglected child according to her character.

It has been said that when Bobby Kennedy lay dying on the floor of the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles from an assassin’s bullet, he called out his mother’s name.  Appropriate, she helped usher him into the world.  Who else was more suited to help him leave it.

Is it any wonder that all religions are wary of woman’s power.