Darkness looms, huddle-up close, united we stand, adversity shall pass. She always looks after Her own.
Mothers’ Night, a night honoured by my ancestors, a night held in my blood, bone and soul, a night in which community, kith and kin, is forged whole.
Central to community is the role of ‘Mother’. Self-sacrifice, from gestation to post-partum, the being of the mother is selflessly given, the result of which is Life, a means of continuation for the Kinsfolk, a strengthening of the community.
During pregnancy, each mother, each partnership, each community shall enjoy/endure their very own ‘Saturnalia’, during this liminal, gestatitive period, boundaries are pushed, pulled, torn asunder as hormonal make-up shifts and stirs within their cauldron of being. Order knows no home here at this Time…
And as above, so below
Listen to the winds… they tell me that Existence was born after this manner. The Cauldron was from stillness stirred… purpose in uncertainty ensues, though such revelry in movement is embraced! Topsy-turvy grants a spring of Life to flow outward, creation is born and re-born. What a blessing to re-live this eternal moment of Now! Brought to the fore throughout this tide, bestowed from the personage of the ‘Mother’.
Like the fool, or court jester may my madness bring forth new outlooks and ideas to those who are ensnared within the torrent of this tide. May your mistress be Wisdom, yet always hold your Mother as Truth, then the community of the ‘cunning’ will be your birthright.
Hold firm this comfort within the bleak, harsh winter months, as all adversity will be overcome. The Light of Truth will be born again throughout our living forge of experience. In the words of my dear brother:
“Remember, She takes care of Her own”
In Lux Veritas,
The Cunning Apostle