Part One: Who is the Mother, Is She Tree?

When I broke my leg six months ago I learned the importance of receiving rest.
I am very familiar with the rest that comes with transcendence.
This can be exquisitely beautiful but miss grounding us in our humanness.

I am speaking about a deeper resting space that holds you like the womb of the mother.
A rest that guides you through a dark birth canal to a new way of being.
Where all is allowed to expand, contract, and rest on the lap of our ancient cherishing mother.

Many of us did not have a cherishing mother.
Many of our mothers/parents were not gifted with a cherishing mother.
Many of us have/had parents that were not well resourced and carry wounds from oppressive systems.
Many human parts have not been held by the cherishing mother.
She is here for you.

 Welcome to a new cycle in the psychic tree of life.
Our true nature is to grow, give, receive and love.
When something leaves us or is taken
Our source seed of infinity — purity safely remains
We are loved into the new.
In all dying, there is a uselessness that becomes useful
as we openly step into our way through
without rejecting or accepting any part
Our lives are enriched
Immensely nourished to regenerate, integrate
and root in our wondrous bodies.

“Long ago there was a deep devotion to living trees. They were valued, for they symbolized the ability to die and return back to life. They were esteemed for all the life-giving things they provided people, such as firewood for warmth and cooking, wands for cradles, staffs for walking, walls for shelter, medicine for fever, and also as places to climb to see far and, if necessary, to hide from the enemy. The tree was truly a great wild mother.” ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes,  Women Who Run With The Wolves

Breaking my leg revealed denied aspects of the human journey I came to be on with my daughters.

I do not want to see this passed onto future generations. Not on my watch. What is revealed is healed.

When a collective soul wound is conscious, something can be done about it.

What has been given away or taken away can be reclaimed.

It can be restored to its proper place — you/we will see.

We are on the cusp of a massive transformation, regeneration, reconnecting to what matters most. This is happening for us, not to us.

As much as it breaks my heart every day that my twins, Abby and Libby are excluded from an abled body world, we carry on. It’s not easy.

This will change. It is an irreducible human need to feel, connect, and belong.

The anesthetic wore off some time ago. My sword is sharp.

The break to my left leg is restructuring my life body like a tree rooting deep and sealing the holes where the uninvited have siphoned radiant creativity and power.

 Enough is enough! My broken leg is a full stop, full rest, full re-evaluation that continues to retrieve sovereignty and gifts that will bloom when the season is ripe.

I write more about this in my next book. It is bleeding through me, waking me loudly in the night and saying you must amplify many more voices, continue to excavate oppressive structures, to center care, connection, curiosity, and descent into the archetypal feminine soul — the place I once again lean into since my left leg exploded six months ago.

I don’t know if it is possible for a mother and her baby or babies to ever recover fully from being held captive to coerced non-consensual medical protocols, in this case, an unwarranted c-section for one-pound babies that had the lowest risk formation possible, and today continue to live with injury and multiple life complications.

I do know that cesarean sections in the US are up to 50%, higher among women of color and indigenous women. Most are not informed of choices, bullied, lied to… damaged, and left to navigate a stranger world than before.

I am CALLED to be a rising voice to a larger collective soul wound that impacts all bodies and our earth mother. I see no difference between dumping Pitocin and numbing agents into women’s bodies and dumping toxic waste into rivers and lakes.

I want to shed more light on informed consent, the Hippocratic oath “first do no harm,” reparation, restoration, and the

Essential Value of Mother within and all around us.

I want to hear her ancient ways. Hearing is healing.

Each of us has within us a cherishing mother, an intrinsic knowledge to care for her and her children—to foster sacred reciprocity. We have options, tools, and an evolving collective awakening.

From where I sit this feels urgent.

In Part Two I will retrace my steps to my biological origins in an effort to understand, deepen my roots, and gain a stronger foothold in my personal and transformational initiation into the underground forest. I will use my body life soul work through various vocations, mentors, dharma practices, trauma recovery, family;  Women Who Run with The Wolves, Myths, and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D., and The Heroine’s Journey, A Woman’s Quest for Wholeness by Maureen Murdock as source guides.

Each time we cycle through the underground forest we reap increasing fecundity.

We reclaim more of who we are and our Collective Mother Soul Nature. If we use The Tale of The Handless Maiden, the story is a seed, we are its soil. In a very real way, we are imprinted with knowing just by listening to a tale. This tale is layered with meaning. In listening, we get to participate in the heroine’s test of endurance. It deals with most of the key journeys to a woman’s psyche. The Handless Maiden covers many years-long journeys— that stretch over a woman’s lifetime. The story pulls us into the underground forest through the rite of endurance, meaning to make hardy, robust, to strengthen. This is the principal thrust of this story. My goal is to make this story something substantial alongside my own origin story for us to deepen, mature, and reclaim all of who we are. The maiden in this tale masters several descents. As she completes one round of descent and transformation, she plunges yet into another. Each descent undergoes an alchemical process of loss, sacrifice, and coming of light, one following the other.

For a portrayal of women’s lifelong initiation into the renewal of the wild wise mature woman, read the tale on pages 390 to 394 or come back, as we upload a recording very soon. We will then unpack the story in four stages:

The First Stage —The Bargain Without Knowing

The Second Stage — The Dismemberment

The Third Stage — The Wandering

The Forth Stage — Finding Love in the Underworld

The Fifth Stage — The Harrowing of the Soul

Artwork by Emma Sampson

“Who is the mother? She is Mother Nature, devoting every resource to the birth process. She is Mother Culture too, doing the same. Neither nature nor culture is separate from ourselves. We are the baby, and we are the mother too, and we are the midwife. All bring their attention to what has become in this moment the one important thing: life.

The squirming and stretching of the baby in the birth canal are just that: the striving towards life. That is the guiding principle of our collective birthing time. It is to serve life, revere life, and claim life. It has an ecological dimension—serving life in its biological sense—and it has a political dimension: reclaiming human life from oppressive institutions. It includes the will to survive, yes, but to live is not merely to survive. So many of us have been surviving, half-alive, for too long. The impulse of our birthing is to live, as an active verb.” From my friend Charles Eisenstein

Continue to Part Two Here: Retracing My Origins Story—The Protectress