The word itself, Mother, conjures up an enormous amount of definition...
Nurturer? She or He that warms the child, protects and cuddles the infant and children as they stumble through this samsara, this dance?
The I chose to have babies, to use this manifested vessel called Marianne to be the bus that brought the 3 children here into this place. She was truly in Love with these little ones, her protective conditioning took over as she hovered over them like a wild animal, walking them through the rough spots, keeping them from harm's way.
In the end, she could not keep them from wandering off on their own to fulfill their own journey. She had no idea that any of them would change so drastically, one would decide to no longer use a body, one would wear the uniform of a police officer and a soldier, one would hide and be saddened and she could not do a damnable thing about it.
She had, and still has, to accept their own journey in this constant play, and watch as they stumble, and stop removing the rocks on their paths.
The lightning strike as they all slept in their beds the night that their father left his body stayed with them. They were awakened at the tender ages of 11, 9, and 6 years old to be told by their mother that their father had 'gone to heaven'.
Indeed, she did not ever think she would ever tell her children that, and knew she had no control, at that moment, over the why of it all. She could not begin to protect them from that occurrence.
Nor can she protect them now. At all. Part of her wants to do so, wants to jump into the fray, swords and shield in hand, and keep them for herself.
But they do not belong to her. They belong to themselves, they are the Light, they are Love, they are the Saints on a Path, and she cannot fix them or change them or keep them from the suffering that embodies the conditioned mind.
She can only lay down, go inside, and remove her own conditioned mind. She can send them love, and learn to feel love again, and allow it. She cannot be the 'Mother' anymore. She can join their hands, and walk with them, but she cannot take the walk for them.
Joey comes to her like a laughing storm and tells her this, over and over, and sends her on her way.
She still rails at the sky, thrusts her fist into the heavens, and yells at the gods to remove her barriers that chain her to this sight, but she is laughingly told to be patient, and let the waters clear and be silent. She has no patience when she sees one of her other 'sons' who weeps from regret, or one of her 'other' sons who walks in physical pain. She cannot help them, she can only accept.
This is her journey, to just watch and accept. This acceptance is not what her conditioned mind has been taught.
But she knows better, and wavers as she herself stumbles into such a concept.
The castle of Mother ,, removing brick by brick by brick the castle, the fortress, the illusory Mother.
She is weary and must lay down.