dear maiden,

Dear maiden, 

We have a problem.

You are everything I’ve ever wanted to be.

You hold within your untouched womb the possibility I’ve always seen.

Yet, you turn away,

Why do you ask the questions, but won’t believe their answers?

I know why I can’t look at Me.

I know why you try to disprove every archetypal Mother story you’ve heard.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me how hard this would be?” I cried two weeks after giving birth.

But the truth is - they did - and I didn’t listen.

I thought I was better,

cooler,

more well-resourced,

educated,

stronger.

“I’ll do it differently.” I thought.

You may see in me a paradigm that is shifted.

But I promise you there is nothing new here.

I am but a humble servant to every mother who has ever walked this Earth.

You might say, it’s just not that phase of life for you or that you’re not “calling it in.”

Beloved, you can run from your starseeds as long as you want, but I wonder why you don’t understand they’re already here.

We could say we’ve been sold lies by the patriarchy,

but it would be so much truer to say it’s both of our responsibility.

Let’s sit.

I will open for you everything I needed to hear.

I cannot open where you are unwilling.

So be brave as you read, 

but not so courageous that you bowl through the caverns that wrecked me. 

Be courageous, 

but not so wise that you decide to go alone.

Be wise,

but not so single-minded that you try to understand something that is not yet meant for you.

The crone, the elder, she is not passive or docile, she smacked me upside the head a time or two.

I channel her swift & dark medicine too. I cannot speak for her, but I will try.

When I say Dear Maiden, I’m not trying to belittle you. 

I’m actually claiming you as my divine counterpart,

painting a picture in which our brilliance is simultaneously recognized,

I am saying, I trust you & together, we can do this.

I have say things in this letter that others have been to kind to tell you.

I know that you can see beyond my crisp words to my infinite desire for your presence in my life, but I cannot make this sound “nice”.

Dear Maiden, let my tongue slice & prove how powerful you already are.

Let this moment illuminate our interconnected destiny.

You will see the rage that’s always been in you,

The perfect rage that is growing in its delivery.

It will feel scary & this is necessary.

You will see the tragic despair of life in a way you never have & you will want to push it away as darkness.

Please know, darkness is good.

I tell you that I’m getting older, 

you’ll tell me that I’m still so young.

I appreciate your recognition of my beauty,

but it is not in my youthfulness.

There’s nothing wrong with getting older, because it means my babies have survived another day.  Aging is wisdom gathering.

Don’t turn your exquisite face away from my ugliness, my dark eyes & crinkled clothes, my rocky skin & my belly dripping.

There is nothing to fix here.

You, maiden, are the advocate for the world I want. You are the fertile garden. You are the untouched & the still innocent part of me, no matter how much I’ve gone thru, you remind me I can always start fresh.

The spermholders see you as unclaimed territory. I worship you as you subtley redesign reality manhandling their advances & bending them toward a new world.

So what’s really going on between us?

Here we stand looking each other eye to eye. Wondering if it’s okay that we don’t really understand each other. I’m sure it’s your problem to fix because the world was designed for you. You’re annoyed at my martyrdom & my hag-like complaining victim mentality.

Somedays, I am too boring for you. Other days, you are too self-interested for me.

I’d love for us to both flex in this moment our fire-sitting abilities.

Please do not compare your business ventures or your very cute dog to my human child.

It is so unbelievably painful to hear childless women say that they’ve given birth in lifetimes before.

To compare a concept or pet with a child who needs my very heartbeat to remind him to breathe is appropriates the very sacred nature of my role as Mother.

To deduce my mothering to a nurturing instinct is the most patronizing misunderstanding of My Power.

To be a mother is to choose a life where my very soul lives outside my body,

You say, “That sounds kind of codependent.”

I say, “That’s mothering.”

Trust me when I say - dependency is serenity,

because everyday, you remind me of the power of self-sovereignty.

I’ll challenge you to coexist & cocreate.

You’ll show me artistic, well-defined artistry.

I’ll show you the freedom of not being bound by sexuality

While you model sensual, wild pleasure effortlessly.

For as long as we think we’re operating on our own, we remain motherless, both.

I apologize for not telling you what I truly need.

I thought you would leave me.

I know now, you are me.

Here’s how you can love me. How can I love you?

Please step into the grass when I’m walking down the street with my stroller.

Please look at my face first before my baby.

Talk to my children like they are conscious & touch them as if they were the goddess.

Tell me I look amazing at every stage. See my body, my loose skin, my softness & my extra weight as perfection or don’t see me at all.

Compliment my ability to do everything.

Tell me on my darkest days, this is my next level.

You’ll be scared that I’m about to have a “break”, 

but every break brings me closer to truth, so say it anyway. 

“You amaze me.”

I need you to ask even if you don’t know what.

My mothering is rare gem, a diamond, the ultimate initiation - it can’t be given for freely.

If you want to know about my best success, ask me about my birth. Ask me a week after, a year after, twenty years after… my answer will always surprise you.

You don’t need the right questions, any question, even a selfish question will do.

But this is the most important.

You cannot judge me when I tell you I gave my kid formula or a pacifier or sent Him to a daycare at 6 weeks. I see the look in your eye & it’s okay. Judgement is natural. The way you see the future of mothering is essential.

Please know. Your judgement locks you into moralistic system that you will have to be break over and over and over to mother the future you wish to seek. Mothering is not a contest or a test score; it’s constant shattering of illusion.

Bow down at the feet of every elder you see. 

Smile at them when you walk down the street.

Make a point to invite grandmother & amend life to suit her needs.

Take meals.

Do do not use spaces/places/bathroom stalls marked “family”.

Thank you for listening.

Now, Let’s dance our shared future.

Your Unknowing is the portal to magic.

Let the wisdom beyond my words become a harmonic hum that sometimes fades

Because your voice is still the song.

Be patient & take your time. I love your pristine clothes, perfect hair & tight skin - there are those of us who worship you still.

There are also those of us celebrate every single facet of your purity & we don’t want it back for anything. Perhaps that will excite you?

You might see extra pounds and naked skin and collapse,

but All we see is love.

Love aching thru our beings.

Love in everything.

When you hear us talk about the deadness in our bedroom, your devotional hotness turns us on again. The cycles so alive in your being remind us that after the fullness of our summer comes a dry fall & winter.

I’m sorry for not texting you back, you can send another message of “checking-in” & I commit now to show up messy. Meet me here.

When we censor ourself for the other’s benefit, I will tsay something completely irreverent & you can cackle wildly.

If your eyes bug open in shock, I promise, we don’t take it personally. If your system gets too flooded with the trauma of birth, you can say - could we pause for a second to feel together?

This is shared territory.

While it would be so tempting for me to run after you and your boundless energy, it’s probably better if some days we all just slow down.

On that day,

your business will not be the measure of your success;

your sexuality will not be the measure of desirability.

The center of life will revolve around itself.

We will break the world together & it will be good.

After-all, birth is a breaking.

Pelvis dislocated.

Abs disassembled.

Skin stretched to its limit.

Torn From Yoni to anus.

This is not abnormality.

This is birth.

Mothering too is a beautiful breaking.

Skin ripped open by tiny claws.

A single body, broken in two, a thread continually stretched out through time & space.

This is what it means to give birth to something that will one day die.

So let’s walk slowly together through this delicate terrain.

The little peoples hands call out to us.

The grandma and her slow sage feet pat the Earth.

I see us walking too.

Hundreds of womxn on the path before us,

Thousands bridging the disconnect we now feel,

Millions birthing against all odds,

The unborn walk within guiding.

May we call out to one another as sister.

May we invite each other in because we have to.

May we see the Divine Mother in all who has chosen a life in which Her concept of Self is constantly being obliterated.

My we worship the Death Goddess who sees breaking as the highest expression of consciousness.

May we see our own survival intimately linked.

May we love each other to the point of oblivion.

X Maya Night