The myths that allude to the great roles once held by women, as fierce warriors, goddesses, oracle dragons and always the Mother.
This magical vessel of divine creation who is the incubator of life, our lives, has been under siege as the male ego has seemingly been set to eradicate any appearance of strength or power of a feminine archetype.
Nearly successful, not only in reducing the reverence given to the female function as creator of life, the legends and mythology of goddesses and the women have been surely watered down. They mostly tell tales of women swoon headed and gullible getting played by some prehistoric player. The Goddesses often depicted unstable and murderous, seeking revenge on being dumped for a “mere mortal”.
How far back must we go to reach a time where the balance of divine masculine energy and the feminine receptacle of creation coexisted in perfect balance. What could of instigated one half of the whole to suddenly began plans for extermination? What could cause the males to turn from the nurturing of mother's breast all warmth and safety, to dominating the female as chattel barely ranking above an animal. Perhaps they were never two parts of a whole to begin with.
Some have said or speculated that long ago we were a more peaceful people, the mother was sacred , revered, holding the highest most respected position to her tribe, her offspring. As such she relished in her receptive nature, giving herself fully into the creation, and from her body reproducing life. What happened to have caused the sons of man to forsake the Mother.
To rise up against her with what could only be loathing, for only hatred, which is the child of fear, could inspire the atrocities used in suppression of the great mother.
What caused such an unnatural disruption in the balanced cycling of life that caused the young to rise up against the one who grew him form.
The male force scattered and traumatized, the cause itself now separated from the soft symbiosis of the breast where it found succor and purpose to his meaning, and his being.
The open space in the sacred womb, where she nurtured the life and created his world with joy and for the joy, wanting only to continue her creative nature carrying on the living waiting for the men to remember the only way he comes to be, is through the dark void of Her, the Mother.
Stillness settling into submission, her receptive nature receiving not the fullness of his force but only the twisted shame projected from his fear. Patient, divine, the first cause IS forever, IS feminine, and IS eternally opening.
The vessel waits as the masculine force forgets. What will become of the survival of our species.
