What is a Mother?

This is a threshold crossing.  Perhaps to honour a birth-giving.  Perhaps to honour life-becoming. All I know is that it is time. I let my voice pour itself on the empty whiteness of the screen - a bridge of connection. I marvel at the possibility of the multicoloured pixels made of minerals shaped in a cocoon of pressure in soil, rock, moisture and fire coming from the depths of Earth. What a mystery and magic to behold this treasure of creation indeed.There were times before I was told I am not a good writer by an editor and publishing house owner. My writing would be chaotic they said. I agree. It comes from a place where chaos is a norm. I let the unknown take me to its poetics and extract those seeds of essence into a form of language that feels mine to speak. Now, under the Black moon I want to open a page of sharing what comes to me and through me in the depths of how I experience the world - woven, interconnected, moving, unfolding, deconstructing and falling apart. I have become much larger on the inside because of it and I can’t keep it for myself. As everything that comes to my receptive heart, this is also not for me. It is and yet, it is not.And so it begins. My stories from the underground black river that leaps into the light of spring.

The second Sunday of May was Mother’s day in Estonia and I was to guide a practice with Symbioosis NGO of exploring Motherhood in community. Our intention was to open a ceremonial space where emergent wisdom, forgiveness and wilder belonging can lead us deeper into connection with the wild. Motherhood is as vast as Earth and as Life itself. It is a portal to initiation no matter which side of it you may find yourself standing. We, no matter what skin colour, what gender, what species always have a mother, are a mother, belong to a mother and have a mother within ourselves. In some ways Motherhood is a mirror to look at to embrace the curse and blessing passed down the sacred blood line, to surrender to Life itself and to embrace Death when she comes. No matter what kind of relationship we have to Mother, somewhere underneath there lies an invitation to stay in the heart crack with a troubling question and not expect an answer to arrive.

How does one even open such a space and close it within two hours of practice? To speak and evoke the Mother felt like travelling back to the beginning of time. To make space for the Mother is to call in Earth in ourselves and to surrender to Soul’s longing for our life. I needed to call on her own self to carry her own wisdom to the people.

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The morning before the ceremony I stand on a bridge between the mighty pines and birches on the hill at Saula Sinialikad. This is an ancient sacred site in Estonia - a place where no human activity is allowed. There, three sacred springs of blue, black and white are embraced by a hill of virgin forest. A place where human presence must be so subtle that even voice is not to enter the hill and disturb the peace of the wild rhythm of life. It is asking of surrender at the door. Visitors are to be in silence in the presence of the sacred wild. I take a deep breath and feel how my chest fills up with joy and grief in the same time. In reverence, I feel the joy of being able to feel this place, considered a temple for generations. And together I feel the sadness of knowing this way of being in relationship should be “normalcy“ and yet it is “extinct“ around the world. Being with the paradox, I cross the bridge and enter the hill, climbing up to reach Siniallikas or the Blue Spring in English.

After spending what feels like a timeless hour of wonderment with the beauty of the sacred waters of these springs I sit closer to the ground, on the edge of the water, giving myself to the liminal presence of Sinialikas. I become empty and open the curious wings of my heart. I long to hear the voice of this being and its wise teachings. I start writing. The following is what came through my hand and is raw, unedited and just the way the water poured it on the white page.

What is a Mother, holy spring waters?

A mother is devotion She opens the space of impossibility for life to flow, pour its sacred seeds into becoming She serves the holy threshold of rebirth Pregnant with the soul crystals yet to be - spring, blooming, visions, ideas, connection, she gives her body to the altar of regeneration, her strength, her blood, her sweat, tears, the fertile beat of her own heart She becomes the in-between, surrendering her own life in service to what’s to come In the unknown, she dances with the vows of ancestors, the protective ones, who keep her safe in the stormy seas of her own womb and the broken vows, passing down the pain of the world through the webs of creation, in her own blood In the unknown, a crack opens to guide her own metamorphosis, filling her erotic body with the sacred waters of streams unknown from the world beyond Because a mother is devotion She stands rooted for Love, with Love when all others flee She brings waters to the roots in the desert and kindles the fire in the darkest of winter cold Fierce in her unconditionality, she knows the earth might be shaking, the thunders may strike, the droughts may wither the freshest of green and disease can spread its veil like autumn fog Yet she knows, from a well of silent remembering the rhythm of the wild, the cosmic law of life and death She holds the reins of care and tenderness, choosing love in the hurricanes of fear She takes from her holy body to hold and nourish the hungry - her milk, her warmth, her songs, her kisses, her hands, her own breath — she gives. Her waters, her forests, her fruits, her springs, her skies, her air, her fire, her presence… her presence… Her beauty is the paradox of being both soft and sharp Tender as a feather on the wind and fierce as lion’s teeth Her wisdom is the ancient animal of her body, attuned to Earth’s heartbeat, It knows exactly what it needs and what her children need also Pulsing, primal vortex of life in her cells opens portals of rebirth And she lingers there, grounded with her oak roots being both the portal itself and the one walking through. A mother is not afraid of death She walks silently in Death’s vulnerable steps, with her heart broken open for her desire to take the life which is needed As holy twins they share a soul in service to life One that opens the door and the other that closes it A mother knows how to conceive a life in the dark of her warm womb and how to bury it back in darkness as the sun sets and the shadow’s growing long Joy and grief she is Sprouting and Composting Day and Night, Pregnant and Empty Holding both, she’s neither of them Never one or the other She’s the in-between presence of devotion  fertile with the immensity of possibility for that which needs to come for that which needs to go

Images: An illustration of Motherhood that came through my hand while dreaming it to come.Me, listening to Sinialikas, taken by my beloved and co-guide at Symbiosis. And a portrait of Sinialkias, taken from air - a heart beating within the arteries of sacred waters. ( credits to this image - Nature of Estonia Blog)

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I offer 1-1 mentoring and guide group journeys into cultivating wholeness and reconnection to Earth and Soul. I listen deeply to the body and the deep imaginal knowing it holds the key to all doors of possibility. If you feel curious to have a chat and meet me, come visit here. 

And if you’re interested in my work at Symbioosis NGO, you can find the latest updates in the Groups Expriences section of my offerings section.