As celestial archetypes go, Cancer is the Mother
When la Luna sits here in the sky-shell, she is home.
For the mothers out there – and we are many – the Cancer Moon is YOUR Moon.
Mothering. We do this work tirelessly. It is the deepest, hardest, work in the world. It keeps on, asking more and more until you are thin like the most threadbare of blankets, yet still, it is *irresistible*.
This trip begins when we literally turn our bodies inside out – YOUR mother’s blood and bone are what brought you into being.
And with this insanely miraculous occurrence… a life disappears.
All comfort and familiarity exit the room.
In its place, new demands. Relentless, tireless demands. Punctuated by new breaths, scents, textures, and flavours of life SO fresh but so familiar. All soothed by the balm of love once described to me as elastic – this love will stretch forever.
There are few ways to win this game: the game of Mothering.
I learned very early on that this world was not designed for us. We each have different stories to tell about this, yet the overriding narrative is of its limitation.
All other units of value fall away when mothering takes the stage in life – the ones that keep you going, I mean, like cash and hard-earned rest, or a sense of purpose outside in the world (you know: out there, where life is *actually* happening).
Whilst we, the mothers, sit here quietly, nurturing the world’s next generation of humans into being…
It’s here, in this place I choose to stage my rebellion.
Because whatever ‘they’ say (without ever *actually* articulating it) Mothers DO have power. We are the ones who get to shape the New Earth… through Her youngest and newest inhabitants.
What to question
What to accept
How to think
How to discern
How to learn
How to love
What to love
What to believe
What to believe is possible…
I believe that our consciousness creates the world.
Our attention strengthens it.
And every day, mothers are shaping consciousness.
We know that it’s *how* we are in the world, that goes onto shape our children.
The listening.
The attention.
The holding.
…The holding through all of this – this is the crux of feminine mysteries – allowing whatever needs to emerge, to do *exactly* that.
The mess.
The imperfection.
The tiredness and the tenacity.
The falling over.
The getting back up. And the saying “sorry”.
The constant course-correction.
I salute the mothers, mothering through this time, you who are brave enough to face your own shadows so that your children don’t have to.
This work matters SO much.
Whatever they say… whatever you’ve been taught to think about this most crucial of roles in the world today,
You ARE winning this game.
We are winning this game
♡
