In wiser times it was said that all who are bound in flesh as woman are manifestations of wisdom and thus, are to be honored, cherished, and treasured. To abuse wisdom is to diminish its longevity and effect within the world, to the detriment of all sentient beings.
In this time, when all beings suffer incessantly and drag after one another to pull themselves higher, homage to wisdom and the lessons she brings is ridiculed, mocked, and honor for the precious mother is neglected. Wisdom sits as a beggar, in the thickened dust, weeping, and still, is ignored.
Such wisdom no longer roars as a Snow Lion, but whispers, and is often overcome by the brassy, brash sounds of swine at the trough of samsara, or is it found in the pointed marks of the snake, set upon the heel of humanity, or it crows upon the rooftop as a rooster and takes pleasure in the noise that disturbs an otherwise pleasant dawn.
The sanctuary of home is razed, there is no peace within the tribe or within any nest, even the younglings snarl and snap at one another, no soft and comforting presence to guide them, no example by which they might be succored and soothed. Loud voices and battles for dominance; expressed in coin and status, printed upon paystubs and budget sheets as the soft voice of she who nourishes turns to anger, then pleading, then at last… silence.
I have seen these many moments, whirlwinds of wickedness and wantonness, they weave tighter than spun silk and choke wisdom from its seat, then curse it for such falling and kick dust into its very eyes. What tender thing could ever abide such treatment? What rose in such harshness could ever bloom?
There is yet wisdom, for all the tenderness it would spend is depleted. The gentleness of wisdom fades when it is cast away, and in its place comes the wisdom of the mother – who cares not for tenderness or a gentle hand when danger overshadows, but who wrests and tears and would be as well savage as soothing if it means the little one is saved. Does a mother say ‘please’ when the child is soon to walk off the cliff? Or does she knock it down and only when danger is past, cuddle, kiss, and explain?
There is such insight between mother and child. How do we so soon forget it, we who are born and grow? All things forgiven of mother, who is forever accepting and loving… even the harsh moments are quickly absolved, “Mother always has a reason, and it is always for my good that she acts.” Is not the patience and love of mother endlessly unearned and undeserved? Is not her wisdom painfully clear?
Mother Wisdom never forgets that we are of her flesh, once and always a part, belonging and connected. It is my place to weep for the moments when this truth cannot be known or seems other than obvious, for in these ways are the true sufferings of the world and all in it evidenced.
There lives no mother who would not wish tenderness, kindness, and care to her children. There lives no child who would not wish to rest content and safe and secure in it. These things being as they are, why do we so often indulge poisons that curse and kill mother and child? Has it become so impossible to see past the past? So impossible to remember what it was to be simple and loving and pure with one another?
Do the memories of hurt become so precious that they are preferred? Oh, ego and pride and how they ruin all things. They stand like monoliths and forbid… but it is never forbidden. Even lofty monoliths may be overturned by tender shoots that insist upon reaching for light. How many children, years of life spent, still long for mother’s soft embrace and to hear that it will be alright? How many mothers, long alone, still wish to cuddle their child and know their presence grants peace?
Wisdom is wrapped in a woman’s form and no matter how long abused, is forever willing to remember and for remembrance, forgive. Under all ego, woven even through the stiff fabric of pride, these common threads remain. The purpose of wisdom is to demonstrate the means and methods that overcome all suffering and it is fitting that woman’s fiber entire be built of it… there are rare and few things of this world as willing to renew as wisdom, as woman.
Take a time to think upon the first moments you met her and knew in and of her the truth of this. Before the clever impediments of self and righteousness began their peckish, petulant works. Remember when you knew all these things and then, realize, none of them have changed…. they never do.
Raise wisdom from the ground where so often you find her. See her clothed and tenderly treated. Give to her the honor deserved for that which exists only to nourish and sustain and find for yourself the truth that rests in these, my words.
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