(B01C02) Chapter 2: The Mother

"A LIFE WHICH CREATES A LIFE. LIKE A GIFT OF THE PRESENT, ARRIVING BY HISTORY’S HAND UNTO THINE.” – “ONLY THE MOTHER” BY JD STAHL

I believe it to be common knowledge that all children are a product of their parents—either biologically or environmentally. Each type of energy, both physically or emotionally, shape each and every one of us in ways which we rarely realize have such a great impact. After all, it's not only our genetics that links us with those we love and admire, it is also the level of trust we establish with them. Though our bodies house the similar vibration of our kin, our conscious minds foster a garden for each and every energy we encounter. The closer we get to these energies, the deeper the seed is planted. Those we connect with the most are planted so deeply within us that we can easily confuse ourselves AS them. No matter how we act, what we say, or even what we wish to happen, there is always someone in our lives who is more revered than others. For me, this person was my mother.

Esoterically, of course, there is much symbolism associated towards a divine feminine archetype. Though we often credit males for being our models for “God,” such a creator would have no substance to work with unless he was “served” a source material. Even though we admire the power, control, and command of a masculine creator, I would be remiss if I did not credit the feminine with the never-ending supply of energy, from which we were all afforded the opportunity to create and be created.

From the egg, my mother provided the “blueprints” for the unassembled furniture which—when put together—would eventually carry the energetic message that I would eventually become. Planned prior to birth, we are all fated towards a certain destiny. The joy of life is to journey to remember that destiny. For when each of us find it, we light the true fire that burns everything which is not of our highest purpose. The product of that purification fire is our truest, most authentic self.

As we are planning our fates in our collective dream before birth, we are called to populate our environment with every single person—both family and non-relation—who will afford us opportunities to maintain our balance or test our mettle so that we can grow from the energy created by emotional friction. There isn't anyone in our lives who arrives by accident or mistake. Every single thing—both pain and pleasure—is meant to serve us. However, as each of us take birth, we forget this divine intervention. This is not only part of the fun of life, but it also allows us the energy of time to create more and more opportunities for our development.

KRISHNA: "IT IS I WHO AM THE VEDIC RITUAL, I AM THE SACRIFICE, AND I AM THE OBLATION OFFERED TO THE ANCESTORS. I AM THE MEDICINAL HERB, AND I AM THE VEDIC MANTRA. I AM THE CLARIFIED BUTTER, I AM THE FIRE AND THE ACT OF OFFERING. OF THIS UNIVERSE, I AM THE FATHER; I AM ALSO THE MOTHER, THE SUSTAINER, AND THE GRANDSIRE. I AM THE PURIFIER, THE GOAL OF KNOWLEDGE, THE SACRED SYLLABLE OM. I AM THE ṚIG VEDA, SĀMA VEDA, AND THE YAJUR VEDA.” – BHAGAVAD GITA (BG 9.16-17)

Even though we like to associate our best qualities with those we love the most, each of our archetypal guides, gurus, and teachers actually represent our opposite. For this reason, we are unconsciously attracted to them, like reverent human magnets. Pulled from our poles, we are easily called away from our true selves and accept the masks of those we respect the most—though not necessarily because they remind us of ourselves, but that because we admire their ability to exist so naturally as the part of ourselves we have a difficulty facing. If we are willing to look underneath surface appearances and first impressions, we can understand those who were sent to us (or who we sent to ourselves) who provide us with this reverse-psychology, mirror-image curriculum.

Personally, I had always considered myself to be incredibly lucky. I had the best mom—the best. Just exclaiming that brings to the surface the same innocence that dominated my young life. Thankfully, I have never forgotten nor buried that purity. It is that youthful energy which is the divine counterpart to my own personal trinity—my Soul/Soul/Son/Sun. Like the Brahma—the source of all possible creations—as a youth I was infinitely malleable. I could be—and often was—anything I wanted to be in the moment. I never felt pushed, manipulated, forced, or guilted into being or doing anything by my mother. Even though this type of independent character development style came with its own unique challenges, it allowed me to remain conscious throughout my entire life. Because of that freedom, I was always able to recharge myself from my own personal fountain of youth.

The High Priestess

“LET'S ALL GET UP AND DANCE TO A SONG THAT WAS A HIT BEFORE YOUR MOTHER WAS BORN. THOUGH SHE WAS BORN A LONG LONG TIME AGO, YOUR MOTHER SHOULD KNOW.” – “YOUR MOTHER SHOULD KNOW” BY THE BEATLES

Before I could even form a lucid rational thought, this was my first lesson of duality: the chaos of formless creation and the ordering or structure of invisible energy or space. Though I could never understand it well enough to explain it at such an early age, I never stopped it from flowing through me. When I was in those “flow” states, staring off into space or looking into the sun, I was always rejuvenated by a presence which was forever present, never aging, and consistently forgiving. I spent so much time in this transcendent state that I eventually just associated it as my truest, most authentic self. Because my mother never called me away from my daydreaming, I was not only able to learn how to develop this part of me, but I was also (eventually) able to communicate to/for it.

My soul, an invisible “alien” inhabitant. I swept clean my mind daily, creating my own virtual playroom in my own mind. I would create and destroy with this presence. Though some may have invisible friends as children, I really didn't even believe it to be any “thing” at all. I didn't see it as anything separate from me whatsoever. In addition, I never claimed it as me either. By not labeling or claiming this presence, it remained. It was not specifically male or female; it was both and neither. Though it was the wellspring of intuition, it never attempted to conform me or my imagination. Like a piper from the future, I was led into in with every stumble and step that I took.

Even though my biological mother represented these divine traits quite well, I always felt equally connected to the entire universe as a “mother” which I could not place in space—or time. Personally, I would like to believe that my love for this invisible energy was so strong that I personally manifested it to my mom. However, “chicken or egg” dynamic would never truly be solved—linearly, at least. Was it the universal “Chi” (life force energy) that came first, or was the vibration of such a presence created from the egg of my mother? I guess in terms of the paradox, one has to equal the other to exist in the physical world at all.

The feminine spirit of all creation, also known as “The Mother,” is the energetic stardust from which we are all molded from when combined with the waters of life. The energy dances around form in a magical 3-part waltz: the air of spirit in motion through space, led by time. This divine presence is repeated in every possible extension of the physical world. All things in vibration are constantly devoted to the source of their own inspiration (Mother).

Water itself is the stable formation of two hydrogen atoms merged with the “breath” of single oxygen atom. Water forms as a product of finding balance—though some may call this a certain type of divine intervention. This is the same balance which happens behind the scenes of our lives. Externally, we are consistently surrounded by the same tides which break inside of us. A combination of many lives we have previously lived all converges into a single form. From this energy, we plan our fates. Like water, we flow towards this energy, leading us to walk our own personal journeys. Just like water, the sharing of electrons is chaperoned into an infinite union, infinitely complementary to the other molecules. Together, they are fused into physical matter, forever linked in space and in time. On the river of life, all of us are intimately linked, guiding each other back to the “home” where we once came—and where we will all eventually return. Together, we are the ocean; and yet, this ocean occupies no space whatsoever, like angels dancing on the head of a pin.

“LOVE IS A BURNING THING, AND IT MAKES A FIERY RING. BOUND BY WILD DESIRE. I FELL INTO A RING OF FIRE.” – “RING OF FIRE” BY JOHNNY CASH

Our lives are a constant flickering of flames. It is the breath (oxygen) which prepares each of us in perpetual purification, freeing us from our karmic attachments, hoping to eventually deliver us back into the ocean once again. Oxygen forms the 8-sided ring of fire, the spirit which oversees our metaphysical union (marriage) with the body. In balance, we transfigure ourselves into the water bearers of truth, life, and light. Our metaphysical purification cleanses us from the inside-out, returning us to balance and harmony with the external world. As we walk our path (way) on these waters of truth, we are guided prophetically by our own intuition. Gazing into the future is to gaze upon our mirrored reflection or opposite (God) which sits before our eyes.

Therefore, to find this ideal, we must come into balance so that our reflection is our truest image. As children, we each become an opportunity to transcend dualism and combine our opposites to merge back into this ideal image. As we are return to this “whole” spirit, we get back to the energy of divinity which existed before we initially traded our first breath for the energy of time. Through the threshold of existence, we walk through the doors of perception. This consumes—and is simultaneously consumed by—the sins of our mother and father archetypes.

From the place where our truest selves originated, we will eventually return to our perfection, in union with the source—the combination of everything between both alpha and omega frequencies. This not only exists in time, but also in genetic material, physical, mental, emotional, and the non-physical (spiritual). The feminine aspect of spirit often exemplifies beauty, abstraction, and endless possibilities of unpredictable chaotic expression—a necessary delivery of chance to be made manifest into the gardens from whence it came. On the Globe Stage of life, we are purposed by this endless potential, scripted by lines which we both create and are created from a nonphysical “space,” a sea of darkness that our souls know fondly as “home.”

Empress Jane

“THOU ART THY MOTHER'S GLASS, AND SHE IN THEE, CALLS BACK THE LOVELY APRIL OF HER PRIME; SO THOU THROUGH WINDOWS OF THINE AGE SHALT SEE, DESPITE OF WRINKLES, THIS THY GOLDEN TIME.” – “SONNET 3” BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Jane Eleanor Petrowicz was born on April 2, 1947. Albeit a common name, my mother was by no means anyone whom I would consider to be “average” by any means. No matter who I had ever compared her to, I found nobody who exemplified her patience, trust, and kindness. My mother's energy was exuberant, ecstatic. She bled poetry and modeled the very spirit of unlimited potential balanced equally with grace.

Jane (“Mom”) had a soul that was sourced directly from Camelot. Her royalty, however, required no heirs or extravagances, only opportunities to practice her play of life, performed on her own personal Globe Theater. Her love and affection were the perfect model of absolute perfection in form. My mother had a perception of the world standardized literary archeology and poetic anthropology. From her example, I was perpetually renewed by an absolute definition of unconditional love. In her smile, I was able to see the grace which was produced by her selfless service to a quality which was greater than all of us.

Jane was an English Literature and Shakespearean teacher at the local high school in our home town. She grew up in Boyertown as well, attending the schools and eventually residing after attending a local college (Muhlenberg in Allentown, PA). She created me with simplicity—and then recreated me every single moment she entered my mind—and still does, returning me to the immortal grace and garden of unconditional love. Her inspiration was the glass upon which every one of my heroes seemed to drink before writing their stanzas, soliloquies, and sonatas. Jane was the human manifestation of harmonized crescendos—both major and minor—both in and out of time signatures.

I'd like to be humble and say that this is an overstatement, but I can't. Sure, everyone says that their mothers are the best. Yet even those people have approached me and told me that my mother was better than their own. My mother was, is, and will always be a queen. Her love was deep like the ocean of existence itself, never creating a condition or exception. She could swim the deepest trenches and teach the mussels and clams how to create pearls. What I first noticed about her is exactly what I intended to be for myself and the rest of the world—a teacher.

Only The Mother

JD Stahl (11/06/2020) She watched from the other side. Leagues of changes of opinionated Undertones, truth unshaken, Carrying love which cannot be undermined. A brief history forsaken. A mere raft across a channel, Of frosty confusion from their shadow sides. Easily forgiven by higher coils That govern a single soul, intertwined. A changing season. The rift that’s driven in the mind. Of her great power, gracefully driven, By her patient understanding. Unyielding and persisting, Like the child who grew inside. A prologue of what’s been living, Now unable to be mishandled or mistaken. Her spark that lights a candle. A dark time shall rise to shine. A life which creates a life. Like a gift of the present, Arriving by history’s hand unto thine. Awaiting reception into arms. Only the rise of the feminine side Could alchemize into the divine, Reordering an eruption, Into substance simply so sublime. She’s atomized heavenly reconstruction. Man’s only true worthy guide. This life, this day, this valley. A country, a world, a canopy of stars. To whom only the creator could confide. Soft ships of a longing life, Carries over deserted seas From here into the other side. Perhaps nothing can explain The miracle that awaits This earth—to be rebirthed— Into something that only her love Could provide with ample worth. To shake any sorrow. Laying in her palms, a today. Only the Mother can create a tomorrow.