Mother

The first metaphor is Mother. Birth is the second.

We come into the world helpless, but we do not come alone. We come into the womb of the mother. In that womb we are complete and happy, without need or want, cares or concerns, problems or troubles. We are perfectly nurtured, protected, and provided for. Our troubles begin with the awareness of the separate existence of self, which begins with the birth of the body.

You may not think you remember, but see if this doesn’t ring a bell for you.

Darkness, silence and peace. Then –

Brilliant, glaring light (the operating room). Eyes unable to focus. Objects and colors moving in a hazy field of view. Sounds that are too loud, human sounds, people moving, voices. Objects hard and painful to the touch. The space beyond, cold and forbidding. Then –

Searing, burning pain that begins in the back of the throat and races down the throat and into the lungs (the first breath). Then, even worse, the gasping, grasping need to repeat the excruciating process again … and again … and again.

Familiar?

The womb represents our undifferentiated existence in universal consciousness (God). Birth is the creation of our individuality – which from the individual perspective, is initially involuntary. The experience of physical birth provides us in each life with a sense of comparison between the attractiveness of the inner and outer worlds. The starkest reminder is the first breath – that gasping, grasping need to continue our separate existence, in spite of the excruciating pain that necessarily accompanies it. It is the breath that ends our comfortable, undifferentiated life in the womb, and begins our tumultuous earthly existence. We are so attached to the existence of this world that it is almost impossible for the average person to appreciate its limitations. Accidents, illness, old age and death confront us all, but generally cause us to cling all the more tightly to the world. Yet in a subtle way, we are reminded each night of the limitations our existence here. For no matter how captivating and involving the activities of the day, we willingly give them up each night so we can return to the inner world of undifferentiated consciousness.

Though we arrive here helpless, as I have said, we are born into relationship, and our first relationship is with the mother. Mother represents in the paradigm the perfect nurturing and care-giving nature of God. In pregnancy, she plays the role unconsciously, giving protection and sustenance from her body. With the birth of the child, the role becomes conscious – though still somewhat instinctive. The helplessness of the child brings forth nurturing in the mother, for the welfare of the child is essential to the survival of the species. As the child grows older, it does not want to be helpless any more; it wants to be independent, self-reliant and strong. So the child pushes the mother away. But the mother understands the child’s need for independence and ultimately lets the child go off to learn the lessons of the world and, if all goes well, to return as an adult with a mature understanding, so that in the end there can be an exchange of love by free choice, beyond the realm of instinct.

That is the metaphor of the perfect mother, which is the soul’s relationship with the Motherhood of God. This Motherhood is real – it is a creation of the universal consciousness, as real (or unreal) as the ideas of us all. Each one of us is born in the womb of this Mother, and our lives here on this earth are helpless before the Lord. No matter how intelligent or accomplished or powerful we may be, we cannot determine the outcome of our actions. No matter how carefully we plan, we may fail. No matter how hard we train, we may lose. And there will come a time for each one of us when we will fall victim to sickness, old age and death, no matter how faithfully we exercise, how healthfully we eat, or how many vitamins we use. If we acknowledge our undeniable position before God, we automatically bring forth God’s mercy, for mercy is the nature of God as the Mother. But if we insist on playing the part of independence, if we push God away, then the Mother withdraws, allowing us to go out in the world to “make it on our own” – which, as we will discover, is impossible.

To the baby, the mother is everything. But on this earth not all mothers are perfect. In this world, the mother may not be interested in the child, or she may feel angry or trapped, or unfulfilled. If the mother is selfish, uncaring or cruel, if the mother withdraws, the child comes to believe it is unworthy of love. This feeling may be directed inwardly as depression or outwardly as anger. Lacking faith in the fairness of the universe – and in ones’ own self – there may be a tendency to self-destruction, or there may be a compulsive need to demonstrate outwardly one’s mastery and control. Both of these represent an inability to trust and let go. One may embrace materialism or nihilism, secular humanism or totalitarianism, skepticism or fundamentalism, but in none of these comfort be found. For nothing can substitute for surrender to the love of the Mother.

If a child is born to an uncaring mother, it is because the child has itself been uncaring. Human action is by no means exempt from the law of cause and effect, and the cycle of birth and death is how the system functions. We appear in this world as infants, apparently pure, blank slates, but each experience that is written on the slate of our lives is mathematically determined by our own past actions. In each experience we are given a choice: to blame (the world, and thus ourselves), which will condemn us to remain what we were before, or to forgive (the world, and thus ourselves) allowing us to grow in understanding, and to become emotionally mature.
It is only in the costume of flesh that we can play the game of separate existence on the circus stage of the world. And it is only by learning to play our part perfectly that we can join the eternal audience of angels or, if we so choose, graduate to the role of writer or director in a world of our own making.