Dark Side Of The Full Mother Moon.
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I once contemplated the holy Goddess trinity of Maiden-Mother-Crone and wrongly assumed the role of Mother to be the sweetest.
The Maiden, after all, flirts and frolics in the moodiness of adolescent Spring; and the Crone, well, her deep waning frown must be etched in the harsh solitude of winter. It is the Mother who reigns sovereign over ripe Summer and full Fall… and indeed, her dance is quite full and rich, but not just with the delights you might imagine.
The Mother carries the Full Moon, but it is only the Full Moon that endures the slow strain of a total lunar eclipse. Her bright eyes hold not just unconditional love, but unconditional pain.
You can’t just claim her throne, either. First come the trials. Conception… simple, right? Natural, they say… the original union, sperm to egg, and life begins… but how many countless dollars and tears have been spent forcing this miracle to be done… or undone?
And if the magical union occurs, you step towards the next trial, 10 moons of gestation… and this phase is not all glossy hair, pregnant glow, full breasts and belly… this is a ride of sickness, blood, often loss, endless hormones, nightmares and fears, all heightened by poking and prodding of strangers, and an even stranger body taking over one you once knew so well.
After gestation, we greet birth. More blood. More tears. More, more, more. Often viewed as a woman’s ultimate moment of empowerment, legions of females and young have found death on this bed of life since mammals evolved. And if that fate isn’t yours, there are still countless untold traumas swimming in un-grieved uteri.
But say you and babe make it through, and you both step through the hoops of conception, gestation and birth. Now what? Victory? Celebration? Sleep?
Not likely. Yes, you can claim the seat of Mama with infant at breast, but it comes with a crown made of shit, piss, vomit, yes, more blood, more tears (no longer just your own, either) and the most agonizing love you will ever know.
Because you do love your child. Not always at first, and sometimes not all day, but overall, you love them with a height and depth inconceivable before their conception. And moments of pure bliss and nectar are eclipsed by those of sheer terror and exhaustion.
But as babe turns to toddler to child and teen, rather than face losing this identity carved through so much blood, sweat, tears and sacrifice, we do it all over again. The rise and fall, the full moon and eclipse.
Eventually, though, Nature forces an end to the mothering ovaries. Children grow up faster than anyone else, but you find that you age as well. And be it with one final tooth-and-nail battle or grace and quiet release, we submit to the Crone, and a new Maiden steps forth.
It is only from this perspective that we see the difference in the faces of the feminine trine. The Maiden’s obvious crescent smile is one of naive hope in blossoming. The Crone’s once-assumed frown, now viewed from the other side of the Full Mama Moon, is another kind of grin, one turned upside down from lasting this long in this life with all its twists and turns. It is the quiet smile of survival.
My plea, to my sisters of all phases on this lifetimes-long lunar web: Don’t pretend not to see me… even when I’m losing it in the park at my kid, or mine is the child throwing a tantrum at the grocery store. Don’t imagine, just because in this moment you shine, that you won’t have to face an eclipse at one point or another.
I imagined, just as I thought motherhood was the finest, that it was also automatic acceptance into an ancient matriarchal tribe. Mistaken again. Some days you are more alone than ever before, and that’s ironic, because you are never alone anymore.
So today, as I ride waves of PMS and gather strength despite yet another sleepless night to face the day ahead, desperate to feel joyful and present with my child, I will still pause when I see you, and smile. No one can survive the total eclipse of the Mothering Moon alone.
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Bekah Finch is a Yoga teacher, mother, shamanic guide and moon devotee. She writes about the seasons, cycles and the journey between worlds. She is an Ecopsychology Grad student and hopes to raise her son in a world of conscious magic. For more info, please check out her website or find her on social media.
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