Excuse me if I don´t mention the name of this place. Sacred places have no names.
All I can say is that I found a piece of land where my Womb is awakened beyond every known measure; a place that is a retreat – where I can recharge, return to the Silence, the Essential, Myself – but also a geographical (central) part of my soul.
It was here – in the place which name I´ll
selfishly keep to myself – that I found a Mother. Yet another. Not my biological mum – not my gipsy or my official mum – but one of those unexpected women who rock you back into your center, healing you (and herself) on the way Home.
There´s a book called “Women who run with Wolves” but the real title may be – I suspect – “Women who with Other Women”. They run side by side, pulling each other forward and up.
I´m lucky that way – I find women who mother me (take care of me, inspire me and heal me) everywhere. I don´t even ask for them, they show up unrequested, unannounced, blessed and blessing me. They offer me bread, oranges, hugs, wisdom in a random smile, laughter and light. I wouldn´t be the same without them.
There´s something MAGICAL about a woman mothering another woman – I´ve witnessed it so many times that it becomes impossible to ignore the miracle. In the Middle East, it happens openly, the only way of survival in sexually segregated societies where women are oppressed in their core. In the East, we´re starting to return to our Sisters for solace, healing and rebirth. We´ve been with our backs turned towards each other for too long. What a gorgeous homecoming this is!
A woman taking care of another woman who is not her blood relative but still her blood sister is one of the most beautiful things I´ve ever experienced and/or watched. A woman combing another woman´s hair, literally or metaphorically speaking, washing her – body, mind, heart and soul -, wiping off her tears, licking her wounds and planting smiles on her face. No particular reason, aside from Love. A woman watching out for another woman, covering her back, protecting her like a wolf protects her cubs; a woman learning to love herself through the love of her sisters. I´ve never witnessed something higher.
There´s no cientific – fancy medicinal treatment -that can be compared to the miracles operated by a woman who takes care of another woman with pure devotion. She heals herself while she heals you but it goes beyond it.
It was here, in this unnominable place, that I met her, a gorgeous extension of that holy land. She fed me with her delicious spirit, her food (gastronomy that feeds the soul, not only the body), her bright heart, the right balance between presence and absence. She prepared me a bath with candles, leaves, roots and flowers collected from the earth around her house. She noticed I took a branch with orange flower buttons – “buttons are potential fruits, the seeds which are still hidden, in retreat, did you notice it?” – from a tree and used it to aromatize a cup of water she left by my bed. I hadn´t noticed it – the fact that buttons are potential fruits, the hidden seeds – by the way. But she was there to remind me of it.
She looked me in the eyes – always, unrelentlessly, with the courage of a tiger. She cared (I often asked why? why? why? she´s not even my mother; is she?) and listened to me as if what I said was the most important thing in the world. She didn´t see me as a body but as an open heart, as beautiful as she. And, because she saw me that way, I had no other choice but to see myself that way too.
She – enough said.
I repeat: there´s nothing comparable in beauty and power to a woman who heals another woman in an act of pure devotion. True sisterhood transforms more than the healer and the healed woman – it transforms the Big Mother, the whole World and the Universe that sustains it.
Do men also gather to heal each other? I hope they do. Meanwhile, I feel lucky. I get to be birthed and loved by different mothers all the time, in different places and times of my life. I am really lucky when I realize those mothers are a reflection of the Big Mother, the one we ignore and destroy. And I cry but smile too. While there are women who take care of other women – like loving mothers – we have a chance of surviving. And maybe even thriving.
“Kwan Yin e os Filhos de Gaya” by Graça Lima
(Contact the author, Graça Lima, on Facebook – her divine paintings & postards are for sale : https://www.facebook.com/gracamlimac )