Into her element, the water Being
All my senses fled except the kinesthetic.
She held me weightless in her arms,
in cool stillness, for a timeless pause.
I trusted the immersion,
the giving up of any effort.
Blissed by the gift of our communion
floating under blue sky,
I moved my arms like wings.
Back in my element now,
my skin feels shiny,
tingles as if she still
surrounds me, protects me,
feeds me from her placenta.
From the base of my spine
Kundalini surges upward like a wave.
On my birthday I have returned
to being newly alive.
My thanks will never cease.
Right before transformation, the caterpillar ravenously consumes everything in sight, much like the outdated version of humanity. But now we’re seeing more and more Imaginal Cell-like people emerge, shedding our collective chrysalis. There’s a worldwide awakening going on. Do not be transfixed by the dissolutions. From one imaginal cell to another, let’s do this!
Cell Biologist Bruce Lipton on Imaginal Cells: “To better understand the opportunity hidden in today’s crises, consider the tale of another world in transition. Imagine you are a single cell among millions that comprise a growing caterpillar. The structure around you has been operating like a well-oiled machine, and the larva world has been creeping along predictably. Then one day, the machine begins to shudder and shake. The system begins to fail. Cells begin to commit suicide. There is a sense of darkness and impending doom.
From within the dying population, a new breed of cells begins to emerge, called imaginal cells.(aka YOU!) Clustering in community, they devise a plan to create something entirely new from the wreckage. Out of the decay arises a great flying machine—a butterfly—that enables the survivor cells to escape from the ashes and experience a beautiful world, far beyond imagination. Here is the amazing thing: the caterpillar and the butterfly have the exact same DNA. They are the same organism, but are receiving and responding to different organizing signals.
That is where we are today. When we read the newspaper and watch the evening news, we see the media reporting a decaying caterpillar world. And yet everywhere, you and other human imaginal cells are awakening to a new possibility. We are clustering, communicating, and tuning into a new, coherent signal of love.”
Easy for a mother to grasp La Llorona, despite each mean version in the myth
of her motives for ‘killing’ her children.
Every mother gives her children up.
The child for whom she would give her life
can never be retrieved from the river of time.
Every mother becomes
a Woman in White, endlessly crying.
She is the mother who asks, *What is sorrow and what is not sorrow? They are dead who do not weep. The child divine become the suffering man,
and La Llorona, a living Pietá.
The flowers cry when she passes
and remembers her child
running to bring his Mama a bloom. *Do not think because she sings her heart is joyful. One also sings from pain. If you see her weeping under a tamarind tree
or if you see her singing.
the Banshee ghost, the grieving mother,
know her haunting comes from being haunted.
I too wander the riverbanks
and notice every child who reminds me
of the beautiful boy who vanished
into the magnificent man.
The door of my heart always ajar
to the baby, the toddler, the child
who will never again walk through.
My tears so vast they fill the oceans.
Every mother, La Llorona.
In Lila Downs’ interpretation of the song, she compares the legendary La Llorona’s loss with the Spanish invasion of Mexico resulting in the demise of indigenous culture. In her 2001 album, Border, Downs dedicated the song to the spirits of Mexican migrants who have died crossing the line.
How we hide it from our minds,
the site of the link
on each body ever born.
Trained to disregard
the stub of the sacred cord,
we are lost, longing
for forgotten female origins.
Time to praise the omphalos.
Time to look, and look well,
at the precious place of life’s own download.
Let us belly dance with bells.
Let us gaze upon our navals
and travel thus
to the holy hub of planet self,
to the wisdom of connection.
The button in each belly
burns back and back through time
through all ancestral mothers.
What unites us all
might yet save us from destruction
The site of the link
on each body every born
proclaims that we are one.
For the motherbond yokes one and all.