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Mother Bog

A while ago I posted about my discovery of Cors Caron bog in Wales. It was a quiet place. Often I’d visit on dreary days and never see another soul. I’d walk around the boardwalk, talking freely out loud to myself about all manner of strange and spiritual matters. Occasionally I’d get caught out by a secret fisherman lurking in the reeds.

One particularly rainy day, with my jeans and boots already soaked through but my Berghaus keeping the rest of me comfortably warm and dry, I sat down at a corner on the sodden wood and stared out over the flatness, contemplating. Then I closed my eyes and meditated for a while. It was such an easy place to meditate. Like there was something ancient and wise residing there, welcoming me to drop into that dark, fertile space.

After however much time, I left my meditation and continued my quiet walk onwards around the boardwalk, and was hit by an idea of great beauty. The idea of Mother Earth. An idea that certainly wasn’t unfamiliar to me, and an idea that had resonated with me on some level for many years, but equally an idea I had never troubled to explore the depths of before.

The Earth gave us everything we need. She offers everything she has. Even as we betray her she does her best to sustain us. She will never blame us. She will always forgive us. She will endure every hurt we inflict upon her. But equally she won’t shield us from our self-inflicted pain. She gives us all the tools she can, but she won’t protect us from the consequences of our actions. She is not bitter, she won’t rage against us, although if we keep on the same destructive path it may begin to seem that way. She simply gives us space to learn. And trusts that we will get better. And no matter how we may forsake her, she will never forsake us. But she won’t let us destroy her. The perfect model of true, unconditional love.

This idea was accompanied with an eruption of several emotions. Guilt at all the damage I’ve done without ever truly acknowledging the gift I’ve been given. Simultaneous peace that all is already forgiven. Wonderment at the beauty of existence. Safety. Strength. Drive. Inspiration. Compassion.

I can’t know what kind of mother I will be. But I know the trials I’ve faced taught me about unconditional love, and I know they built in me the strength to channel it, and I know that day I learned what it looks like. And so, perhaps, all of that was, most importantly, preparation for what is about to unfold.

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