Polaroid transfers on leather scraps shown collectively as an installation of 28. 28 being a significant number in that it represents the number of days in a woman's menstrual cycle and the number of days in the lunar cycle.
The word Ma or Mama is almost a universal word for Great Goddess and Her life-giving fluids or food that sustains all creation. (Maiden, Mother, Crone, p 52).
It is an interesting thing, being in-between "Maiden" and "Crone." It is a time filled with duties, chores, and the overwhelming, looming fear that you might not be doing it right; or might not be enough. And yet, many define this time only in terms of joy. Motherhood in particular is one of the most devalued of jobs, and yet incredibly fulfilling. We lose ourselves in it, quite literally. I remember the day that I became mostly known as my son's mother. He had a name; I had a title. It took a long time for me to regain my identity outside of that title. He had to grow up first. We shed our skin in freely given sacrifice. We hide our tears as we carry the burdens of those around us. We labor to prove ourselves, to achieve, and to serve. We remember birthdays, decorate for holidays, make favorite foods: my son’s favorite breakfast, the apple pies as a tribute to my great grandfather, pizza in honor of my brother… my mom still makes me potato candy for Christmas. These are little things that act like tattoos carved into our memories no one outside of our circle will ever truly understand as deeply significant, but they profoundly are. It is being Mother that labors, and creates, and gives as a source of great pleasure and pride. I am grateful to be Mother, and grateful to have such a wonderful mother to mimic. I / we dance to the drumbeat that our mothers set in motion for us. I am grateful, and tired, as I stand on the threshold of being Crone.
It is an interesting thing, being in-between "Maiden" and "Crone." It is a time filled with duties, chores, and the overwhelming, looming fear that you might not be doing it right; or might not be enough. And yet, many define this time only in terms of joy. Motherhood in particular is one of the most devalued of jobs, and yet incredibly fulfilling. We lose ourselves in it, quite literally. I remember the day that I became mostly known as my son's mother. He had a name; I had a title. It took a long time for me to regain my identity outside of that title. He had to grow up first. We shed our skin in freely given sacrifice. We hide our tears as we carry the burdens of those around us. We labor to prove ourselves, to achieve, and to serve. We remember birthdays, decorate for holidays, make favorite foods: my son’s favorite breakfast, the apple pies as a tribute to my great grandfather, pizza in honor of my brother… my mom still makes me potato candy for Christmas. These are little things that act like tattoos carved into our memories no one outside of our circle will ever truly understand as deeply significant, but they profoundly are. It is being Mother that labors, and creates, and gives as a source of great pleasure and pride. I am grateful to be Mother, and grateful to have such a wonderful mother to mimic. I / we dance to the drumbeat that our mothers set in motion for us. I am grateful, and tired, as I stand on the threshold of being Crone.