La Mère, La Mer, et La Merde
La Mère, La Mer, et La Merde
v.31 | The mother, the sea, and the shit.
Hello Yogafolk —
Firstly, a quick update on my last post: THANK YOU. Together we raised enough money to purchase a dozen new mats and an equal set of blocks for the kiddoes in juvenile hall! As an added bonus, we acquired a handful of yoga blankets and eye pillows for them, too 🥳 These extra relaxation tools feel particularly special, because this group is SO into śavāsana…they ask for it by name! The final moments of rest are remarkably quiet, still, and everyone reports feeling calmer afterwards. So thank you from me and the gents. We’re so thankful for you, our yogafolk. Read on for thoughts on the mother, the sea, and the shit.
“It is woman's work, to make life in the midst of possible death, to provide safety in the middle of dangerous waters, spinning something golden from the dullness of the world, like magic, to give up your own life to the sea.”
— Charlotte Runcie, Salt On Your Tongue: Women and the Sea
I am 6 months pregnant, trudging my way through a joyful, messy, and transformative gestational portal. The metamorphosis of body and spirit has me mentally and physically dancing with the archetype of the mother, a template with infinite expressions and possibilities; an archetype that introduces the possibility of mothering as a cultural model, not merely a biological role.
Whether we’ve grown humans in our wombs or not, no matter our gender or biology, we are each, in unique, and important ways, mothers. We all care for, tend to and grow the things that matter to us — communities, practices, careers, gardens, songs, sculptures, and friendships. Mothering as a societal model is a way of living by “maternal values, and motherly work,” Heide Goettner-Abendroth writes.
Angela Garbes elaborates on this idea when she says that “the terrain of mothering is not limited to the people who give birth to children.” Raising kids is “not a private hobby, not an individual duty…it is a social responsibility, one that requires robust community support…mothering is some of the only truly essential work humans do.”
The task of mothering may be essential, but it is also oceanic: deep, vast, mysterious, rhythmic, and filled with salt — tears, amniotic fluid, sweat, and the promise of both purification and preservation. Mothers hold oceans inside of their bodies, even as their seas spill into neighboring reservoirs, rivers, and lakes. Like the water’s edge, the boundaries of motherhood are invisibly drawn, always changing. There is no distinct and singular spot where the sea meets land, where a mother is once again her own. As mothers, we are all intimately and inextricably interconnected to one another, and it is our duty to uphold, celebrate, and commend one another as we go about our work.
“Music, water, magic and the divine are all one, and we have to hope that faith will stop us sinking.”
— Charlotte Runcie, Salt On Your Tongue: Women and the Sea
The Divine Mother is envisioned as Kali or Parvathi, Mary, or Shekhinah. These expressions of the Mother teach us about the ebbs and flows of life — the griefs, and sorrows, as well as the joys. As mothers, we can be fierce; hopeful; chaotic; saintly; murderous; soft; grounded; and sublime all at once. We ride the tides, sit with and nurse boo-boos, hold and set boundaries, aim to meet everyone’s needs with balance and equanimity, and pass along a deep love and appreciation for the world.
Maybe mothering is the collective antidote we need. Below, a few offerings to tend to our individual and collective mothering capacities, innate mother wisdom, and the challenges therein, too.
Humbly yours,
Erica
P.S. I’m turning off paid subscriptions to Yogafolk for now. Posts will be a bit more sporadic for the foreseeable future, as I tend to the tiny merman splish splashing in my womb. Thanks for sticking around.
Sonic pioneer Laurie Anderson leads, in her unique and poignant style, a short interpretation of the Buddhist Mother Meditation.
“The sea is a gradual process of becoming, of widening and ageing and growing into more.”
— Charlotte Runcie, Salt On Your Tongue: Women and the Sea
The sea, like the womb, is saline, fluid, creative, and life-giving. Both are ever-changing spaces, full of transformative potential. They nurture life, and make room for all that it allows to enter. As a symbol of the womb, yoni mudra aids us in tapping into our own power, and that of the ocean’s, too. Pair with a moment or several of quiet meditation and even, steady breathing.
Mothering is both, and. It is joy and it is grief. It is generosity, and it is firm boundaries. It is love, and it is depletion. We are all mothers, and we are all, therefore, worshipped, and subject to being treated like absolute merde.
And so we must mother ourselves lest we find ourselves buried beneath the ever-mounting pile of shit. What does it mean to mother ourselves in this time of chronic catastrophe? To treat ourselves with reassuring, unbridled, generous, unconditional love? My friend Sherene says that consistency is good self-mothering. The key is to continue to show up for yourself, to tend to your daily rituals and micro-practices.
“I am learning how to mother. . . . I am distilling entire moral universes into single lines.”
― Kate Braverman, Squandering the Blue: Stories
So I ask you, dear mother, in what tiny ways will you mother yourself today, and again tomorrow? How can you tend to your sweet heart, your trustworthy body, and your brilliant mind? Can you lie down? Leave the mess for another time? Cry, rage, commune, howl, laugh, or sing? Take a walk? Stretch your limbs? Go do it. Even for just a moment. And repeat again tomorrow.
Our Mothers Ourselves: Legacies That Shape Us asks ten artists to explore motherhood, and matrilineage through photos, constructed objects, and audio narratives. The exhibit wonders: What does it mean to come from a maternal legacy? What is important to continue passing along? What do we choose to shed?
Headings and illustrations for Yogafolk are by Leah Tumerman and Chelsey Dyer.
