Mother of the Universe was once very young and alive. As a maiden, her spirit was not yet caught in objects. She danced in the Winds and slept in the Oceanic Depths of Existence.

As she ripened, she went everywhere, giving birth to everything. When captured into holy objects, she showed herself as young, fat and pregnant, but as the universe has aged, these young mother goddesses became icons of her much younger offspring.

As the coil of life has been woven, the Mother became beyond ancient and lost to humans. She was rediscovered in West Africa at an open air market after a hundred year burial in a basket of primordial fabric, long unremembered.

The Mother of the Universe traveled across the sea to another continent . She awakened into a modern world and soon came to live with me, a white woman. How utterly strange for her, standing in a beam of sunlight in my studio, surrounded by electric lights, music, heat without fires, glass windows; and being accosted by a strange breed of people so unlike those first born on this planet.

“Where did she come from,” you ask, “before living with you, before Africa, before mothering the human race?”

She birthed trillions of life forms all over the universe. Her beginnings, the reason she exploded into existence, was carried by cosmic winds near and far populating the darkness with seeds, is anyone’s guess. Why is there a universe? Because there just is.

The Winged Serpent impregnated her seeds, enlivened them, co-creating time itself with the kernels of life spread thru the galaxies. The Winged Serpent has also disappeared into the wilds, hidden beneath jungle, stone and water. Forgotten by the worlds, but not each other, the Mother and the Winged Serpent of Time long to see the light of day in each other’s eyes.

Once they were paramours, Lovers of the Universe, the Sacred Pair, the Makers of Life, Then they were discarded on our planet because humans grew towards darkness and were guided by ignorance and forgetting.

The Mother and the Winged Serpent of Time have long been separated. Recently, the whispers of who they used to be are being heard. Little by little, in the consciousness of the Earth Peoples; the Sacred Pair are beginning to live again.

On my altar in the East stands a small skinny copper woman with small awry breasts, skinny bow legs, toothpick arms. She has a large basket balanced on her head and a bucket clasped in her hand. Her skirt contains the lands of the earth scratched in rough lines. Her earlobes, the most modern thing about her, sport large gage holes. She is a primitive scrawny thing worn by carrying the burdens of creation, bringing a bucket of water to nurture that which she has given birth. She originated far from here; and more recently traveled from Africa to Georgia and then to Oregon. She wonders, “How will I contribute to the birthing of a sustainable, sacred society which honors creation?”

My sister, Naomi stooped at my altar and picked up The Mother of the Universe. I began telling how I came to have her. With a violent vehemence, Naomi stopped me.

Her face pleasantly arranged for the first ten minutes of our reunion took on a stridency; surprising and alarming me. “You right here are is what is wrong right now. You think you can consume your way into spirituality. You think you can buy and own the spiritual practices and objects of others, appropriate their holiness for your own selfish desires.”

“A friend, a black friend, brought me this from Africa.” I stuttered trying to get out my story.

“I don’t really care how you got this, she doesn’t belong in your home. She belongs in Africa with her ancestors. You make me sick. You have no idea who you are or who YOUR ancestors are.”

“Uh, well, uh….” Unsure how to treat this attack, I puzzled how to proceed. “I don’t really care for the way our ancestors behaved,” I tried. This felt lame. “I can’t find a time our ancestors weren’t wrecking civilizations and taking land.”

Naomi practically spat at me, “That’s it in a nut shell. You are taking somebody’s most holy of objects and using it to play Indian. Look at your alter. It has Chinese, Native American, Catholic and African objects all over it. None of it is your own heritage except the taking of others things and ideas. You can never understand their true nature, never have the meaning of this woven into your heart by a collective vision. Instead you have stolen it from where it belongs, further fracturing our indigenous cultures.”

“I think you mistake me. Really. I haven’t stolen any of this. It was all given to me or sold.” I managed to say.

“Sold. You can’t buy a spiritual object. They come from a long relationship with the cosmos.” She lectured, making many false assumptions about me in the process.

When she was leaving, she still held the Mother of the Universe. “She is coming with me so that I can make sure she is returned to Africa. We should all desire to return to our OWN indigenous roots.”

“Frankly, that is what I am attempting to do”. My anger escalated. “I would like to practice living in balance, with a structured world view that is nature/cosmos based. This is why I study the Meso-American calendar, because they have offered to us their ways so we too can walk in balance in the world. I don’t steal their stuff. They have given it to all humans as a way to recover and remember who we are. I am not copying them. I just try to live as honestly as I can building on indigenous concepts and internalizing their sense of time and metaphor for imbuing sacred meaning into my life. I don’t pay people to heal me or ask them to pay me. I’m trying to have peace in my life.”

Naomi’s scorn did not lessen. She was as furious as she had ever been. As she always was, since she was small. A fury fed by something I did not think I would ever understand.

“Do you want to know how the Mother came into my presence or do you want to march out of here with your superior attitude and this figurine?”

Gathering her backpack, Naomi pressed her already thin lips hard together, slashing her warrior face with fury. She turned towards me still clutching the Mother as if the figurine was filling a hole in heart.

I began witnessing a transformation.

Naomi seemed possessed with the Mother, but not in a good way. Her hair sparked, the sunlight and dust motes were frenzied around her. An unearthly voice arose from the previously compressed lips.

“I am the Mother of the Universe.”

I froze. Spirit speaks and I am overwhelmed with fear. I’ve asked Spirit to go easy on me, so I don’t lose my mind when reality bends. Reality was bending in front of my eyes.

“Lilly, I came into your life because you asked me to. You called my name and requested my presence. I am Mother of the Universe, not Mother of the African tribes, or the Basques, the Celts, the Creeks, the Mayans. I am the original ancestor of you all. I belong to no one and no one has my permission to take me anywhere. I am here of my own violation. Put me back on the altar. My job, at this moment is to midwife this solar system into a new dimension. Leave me to my work.”

Naomi stopped speaking. She blinked. I gaped at her. The blaze of light subsided.

Views: 273

Comment by Zanelle on October 3, 2015 at 7:47pm

Holy Moly!!!  This was good.  I want more.  I can feel the energy here and it seems important and real.  Thank you!

Comment by Carole Dixon on October 3, 2015 at 7:53pm

Thanks Zanelle! I wrote it last week in a writing assignment. Actually three assignments. Once I got started, I was amazed how easily the story told itself.

Comment by koshersalaami on October 3, 2015 at 8:12pm
I really like this
Comment by Carole Dixon on October 3, 2015 at 8:16pm

Thanks Koshersalaami. I like it too. In the writing class, this comment was made: This story means a lot when I compare it to your short biographical sketch about starting over. I see a kind of strong message in that with the notion of rejecting tribalism for "the original ancestor of you all." And, "I am here of my own volition." 

This one comment told me in a nutshell the issues and resolution I've been struggling with. It is weird how the insights of others can make things obvious to me that I have been struggling to understand.

Comment by Julie Johnson on October 3, 2015 at 8:49pm

At first I thought Naomi was making that up, just to steal the figurine for herself.  Then, ''Reality was bending in front of my eyes''.  I liked that part.  The Goddess wasn't going to be stolen, is how I read it.  

Comment by Carole Dixon on October 3, 2015 at 9:19pm

yeah, maybe the Mother and her Will has been at the heart of what is going on with Lilly. Maybe the Mother needed to be on the west coast to get that birthing job done. Old Lilly thinks she is in charge, but no, it is the volition of the Mother. Or maybe Lilly really is the mother. But she ain't being hijacked, that's for sure. Either one of them.

Comment by JMac1949 Today on October 3, 2015 at 9:34pm

The Mother of the Universe appears to be as old as human imagination:

Venus of Hohle Fels discovered in September 2008 in a cave 15 km (9 mi) west of Ulm, Baden-Württemberg, in southwestern Germany, this female figure is the oldest undisputed example of human figurative prehistoric art yet discovered. In terms of figurative art only the lion-headed, zoomorphic Löwenmensch figurine is older.The figurine carved from the tusk of a woolly mammoth was found in the cave hall, approximately 20 m (66 ft) from the entrance and 3 m (10 ft) below the current ground level. A bone flute dating to approximately 42,000 years ago was found nearby, the oldest known uncontested musical instrument.

During the first 1000 years of the religion of the one G_D of Abraham, many of the people who called themselves Jews also worshiped the Ugaritic mother-goddess Asherah, Wife of G_D and Queen of Heaven.

Pillar figurines of Asherah have been found through out ancient Canaan, Israel and Judea particularly in Jerusalem and it is very likely that She had a place by the hearth of nearly household in the Kingdoms of David and Solomon.

The resemblance between these clay figurines and the 25-28,000 year old limestone  Venus of Willendorf is uncanny:


Comment by Carole Dixon on October 3, 2015 at 9:40pm

Ah, they are beautiful. Thanks for the images, JMac.

Comment by JMac1949 Today on October 3, 2015 at 10:01pm

Carole, Asherah looms large in my novel People of the Book, and if you're interested I've posted most of the first draft here on Our Salon: My Best Stuff? People of the Book.  It's still a work in progress that I'm hoping will finish by the end of the year.

Comment by Carole Dixon on October 3, 2015 at 10:37pm
Will take a look.


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