A Mama Day Blessing

A Mama Day Blessing for all kinds of Mamas

This day we honor and celebrate
the women who have given life to us,
the women who give life to ideas,
the women who died giving life,
the women who wanted to have a child, but didn’t get to,
the women who right now
are tilling their fertile soil for new seed,
this is for the women who choose not to have a child
but have many children,
the women who are in captivity,
the women who are free,
those who were mothered well,
and those who had crazy mamas,
because any mama that did not love you well,
was not well enough,
this is for the women who are struggling
this moment to care for their babies,
and the women who right now
snuggle with little ones under feather comforters,
for those whose mamas have gone on,
and for those who are mamas to be,
for women who miscarried precious life,
and those who carried many,
for single mamas who want their mate,
and for married mamas who want to be seen and heard,
for those who never got to have a mama hold them,
and for those mamas whose children will not speak to them,
for happy mamas and sad mamas and the Great Mama of all,
and the Mama who gave birth to God
and most of all…
for all women and men
who are in need re-mothering.

– Shiloh Sophia

The Creation Song by Shiloh Sophia, 2002 Acrylic on birch wood – 5X5′
This painting was sold over ten years ago, but it has now returned to our estate and is available again to a good home, inquiry for pricing 🙂

The gifts from my Mothers – with a nod to J. Alfred Prufrock and Ziggy Stardust

Dear One,

Since it is Mama’s Day I wanted to send you my writing on it, shared above – as well as share the gifts I received from my Mamas.

My mom, Caron McCloud, gave me the love of language. She taught me to read poetry, brought me important poets, we listened to albums of Dylan Thomas, and she encouraged me to memorize the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot when I was a teen.

I didn’t understand the poem at all but none-the-less loved it and learned to recite it. In studying the poem years later, I note several things that I would like to share. It was a shift in poetry at the time – a move towards modernism and an invitation to stream of consciousness which critics claimed – was not poetry. I began to write poetry at that time – my first poem of note was about being caged in a society not fit for living. I was also in my punk phase.

I am also taken by the history that states that T.S. Eliot has no idea where the name came from – the invented name. I say it came from his muse. J.Alfred Prufrock. I believe it was tales of his legendary self. Not unlike Ziggy Stardust for David Bowie – an acknowledgement of the hidden and bizarre self in ways one does not normally let on to. After Ziggy Stardust – Bowie is finally onto himself – and moves steadily towards success – which prior to Ziggy he struggled. The revelation of that self – he carried with him always. As for Eliot, Prufrock was his first professionally published poem.

Another aspect of the writing of the poem that strikes me is that he left 4 pages blank in the middle – for what would come later – astonishing! This is so intentional creativity – in fact, my other mother figure, Sue Sellars, used to draw sketches for the paintings she called notes – and would put a question mark into a space within the composition and a note that says – what goes in here?

The last drawing that Sue did, before she left us for the cosmos – likely to have a beer with Ziggy in some cosmic cafe, she showed an arrow pointing off the page and after it a “?” Right before she went into surgery from which she would not wake she said her famous las words: God is gravity. and I love you. See you soon.

Sue – the companion of my mother Caron, in creativity and consciousness, is an Artist. Her and my mother taught one another to believe in their own creativity. Sue acknowledged my mother and her mind – the ways mom felt ‘crazy’, Sue elevated to creative compost and taught her to value the darkest parts of her experience – and from that – the light comes as we know. When we honor that which we wish to hide, healing comes. Sue remained with our family my entire life and brought us awareness of so many things – from our bodies being sacks of cooling gas/stardust – to learning to see. She brought image.

And together they brought me. And together they brought Intentional Creativity – and I – bring it to you – along with the Color of Woman Teachers.

Here at Cosmic Cowgirls Ranch we are loving the arrival of Summer. It was the wettest winter I can remember – and our redwood trees soaked it up and are shining green. I however, am ready for the convertible to be top down. I didn’t hear birds almost all winter, except geese and ravens, but as I write the gardens are filled with little red headed birds and quail song. Today our vineyard is completely grafted to Barberra – 99 vines so my love can make wine – a life long dream – Jonathan is an Advanced Sommelier and a trained Chef – so we are combining our talents here to bring you events that the two of us create together. We have had two Eccentric Supper Clubs so far, with our next one quickly approaching on June 3 with the wonderful husband and wife musician team, Gypsy Soul – combined with poetry from my book, Tea with the Midnight Muse, so we are calling it Gypsy Muse. You can also watch the stream if you can’t come in person. But I hope you will join us in person sometime soon 🙂 http://www.cosmiccowgirls.com

Wherever you are. Whatever is coming up for you right now. I send love along the red thread to you. Thank you for being here.

Happy Mama Day to each of you and all Mamas, especially Mama Earth.

An offering of Intentional Creativity – materials : pen, paper and heart

~ Bring your mama to mind. Good, bad, beautiful or otherwise, bring her to mind and heart.

~ Ask yourself, what she gave to you – a particular gift…something you learned from her or that she intentionally passed to you…

~ If she is still living, write or call her to tell her about having received this gift.

~ If she has gone into the cosmos, journal it in a letter to her – or put it into a painting or an altar.