Motherlove

What’s the Mother do when her little “hero” goes on his journey, Mr. Campbell?

Mr. Bly, do you have an answer for all the Mothers who try to go on living while their heart has been ripped out as their young men have their vision quests?

Why must the streets be so mean to the Mothers?
Men’s secret rites. Fine, fine fine. But is it part of the rites to slit open the Mother’s heart and eat it on the way out the door?

Hang me on a hook, I’ll be here waiting when you get back.

Can’t try to give any help to that baby I caught just as he was falling off the sofa.

Shouldn’t try to say I understand the one who used one word for everything he wanted and I knew the difference. Mother understood.

Mr. Cambell, Mr. Bly, you will NEVER have even the tiniest handful of understanding Motherlove. You will always take Motherlove for granted. That seems to be the way it is.

And so he goes, my son. Out to seek his manhood. Bond with the elder men and beat the drums. Just know that the drums you hold are the beating hearts of the women who bore you, held you, suckled you.

The Motherquest doesn’t last a weekend and cannot be slipped into and out of like some manly Friday mask for a conservative Monday tie.
You expect to end your journey with the finding of the holy Grail to prove your manhood.

Your Mothers start each of our journeys as full and complete women, holding that very Grail in our wombs. And our journey, Mr. Bly, never ends.

April, 2005