| |
Once upon a time long, long ago, there lived a Grandmother who was very
creative. In fact she was the first grandmother ever and the most innovative as
well. She had many daughters and granddaughters, all of them as inspired as the
Grandmother herself. And the things they cooked up: galaxies, stars and whole
solar systems that included little planets
like earth. Her children were no different than their Grandmother; they loved
and nurtured the things they produced, from the greatest to the smallest. The
Grand Women guided them well in this. She was an artist with great power, but
she never abused it. She remained always warm and kind. A model for wise
grandmothers everywhere, she did not punish or
scold. Instead she was tolerant as her latest creations experimented with their
own bit of creative power and sometimes made messes. She smiled sweetly, even if
other things in existence were ruined in the process. After all, she and her
daughters—even the granddaughters—were creators and would put forth many more
life forms to replace what was
lost. No doubt sacrifices were necessary while keeping serenity, generosity,
cooperation and other grandmotherly principles eternally alive.
Today, it is hard to imagine that the entire fabric of the universe could be
considered feminine by anyone. Yet for most tribal people who hold onto their
ancient beliefs, this is exactly how the cosmos is known. For them, the creator
is not a godly man who passes judgments about our worth, but a grandmotherly
sort who knows our value is inherent, solely because we are part of what she’s
created. So rather than punish us with the threat of a future in hell, for
example, she prefers to overlook our misbehavior and hand out treats no matter
how big a disturbance we might make in her home. Gazing at creation from such a
perspective, the world around us is a less fearful place. It becomes
‘Grandmother’s cottage,’ a spot that invites us to relax and play. Embracing
such a cosmic view ourselves, we might come to see that perpetual love and
affection, as well as nurturing and nourishment, is everyone’s birthright—not
the familiar distress of loneliness and
estrangement from others that seems so normal these days.
Steeped in a modern culture of alienation from the feminine as sacred, we live
where divinity is linked to one major voice and it is male. Strangely no man
among the so called enlightened religious leaders of the world seems to be
stepping forward in order to address this imbalance and open our minds to a more
equitable notion of what might be revered. Instead it is scientists, both
astronomers and physicists, who are beginning to speak out and state in
contemporary terms what tribal
people have said all along: everything in the heavens came from a womb,
including our own galaxy and solar system. In science the gigantic womb that
births at such a grand scale is simply referred to as a ‘black hole.” And the
birth itself, a “big bang.”
There is a legend shared in the Dakota Tribe that tells about Blue Woman. She
lives inside the dark bowl outlined by the four corner stars of what we refer to
as the Big Dipper or Big Bear Constellation. Seers among the Dakota often catch
glimpses of her great ring of blue light within this large dark area in the
Dipper’s bowl. This is Blue Woman’s home and from the vast depths inside the
circle of light, she creates star systems. This story has been told for
hundreds, if not thousands of generations of Dakota, and now our culture’s
scientists agree. Through the latest technology, astronomers are able to see
that in our part of the galaxy the youngest star systems (including our own)
burst out of the same black hole. It is one, astronomer’s say, located in the
dark area inside the Dipper, or Big Bear Constellation.
In the tribal culture, this truth is wrapped up in a story about the female
aspects of creation. In modern society, we are left to ponder only what has been
stripped clean of the feminine. We cannot marvel over wombs of cosmic
dimensions. Or admire the incredible strength of a spirit being like Blue Woman
who can birth something as immense as an assembly of stars. We are served truth
through the voice of male science and given facts about sterile holes and big
bangs, not wombs and
birthing. The power of the sacred feminine is denied.
Still, with such scientific “discoveries” we can take heart. Any breakthrough
that supports the ancient ideals of matriarchal people also gives us the
opportunity to move their truth away from the category of lore, and appreciate
it as fair and reasonable. That in itself is grandmotherly. To spin a tale,
hoping it might stretch the web of our awareness in new directions has always
been the way of the wise old crone. And who knows, perhaps one day soon
creation’s story will have
the happy ending it deserves. At that time, we too may relate to the heavens
(and earth) with the wonder and awe of children, rather than the skepticism
taken on after being too long away from the bosom of our
Grandmother.
|
|
