We all have that dream of being twelve again sleeping into noon without a care in the world and waking up to the smell of bacon in the kitchen. I don’t think we ever realize how spoiled we are when we are in the splendor in our youth how wonderful it is to have your mother make your coffee, do your laundry, even as they throw a myriad of opinions at you which you tolerate with a mild eyeroll.
It is when we move out we learn hard truths and life lessons that are out of our mother’s control that she attempted to shelter us from the harsh realities of the world. The myth of Demeter and Persephone is an example of the lengths a mother’s love will go when her grown child in endless suffering. Persphone kidnapped by Hades, ignore pleas of help from her father Zeus, and forever lost to the darkness of the underworld.
Only with Demeter’s cries and refusal to soil the lands that allows for Persephone to return above in the beauty of the light. Demeter celebrates the beauty of Persphone at the start of spring. It is here there is the warm sun, the burst of flowers blooms, and all is well once again. A mother has her daughter returned to her and it is cause with celebration.
It is the celebration that no matter how far you roam, what happens, you can always return home. There is something magical about returning home that is restful. If we are lucky our mothers allow for us to find that much needed reprieve from the difficulties that arise in our adult lives. It is almost as if we surrender to be taken care of and allowed to rest.
A simple beauty of a mother’s gift to her daughter. The ability to shut her eyes in the warmth of a cozy bed, without the humdrum of the day, and hide away. It is only when she is pulled back into reality that enables her to appreciate the wisdom and gifts of her mother.
401 But when the earth starts blossoming with fragrant flowers of springtime, flowers of every sort, then it is that you must come up from the misty realms of darkness, once again, a great thing of wonder to gods and mortal humans alike.
Just as Persephone realized the beauty of her mothers’ gifts that welcomes her home every spring. A mother love for her child is a gift just as the earth replenishes from the harsh reality of winter. The plight of darkness that Persephone faced in the underworld is similar to daily reality of some women’s lives.
What we call evil is the absence of light, absence of love in all cases. When we speak poetically of light, we associate it with purity, insight, and divine inspiration. As we shall see, this type of light is not merely poetical. It is real.
It is when the world is dark that we can look for that beacon of light that serenades us home.
Some of us are blessed to have our mothers still with us, giving us orders, and taking the time to nurture us. It is a gift as an adult to still rely on the strength of our mothers – they have raised us, loved us, grew up with us, laughed with us, and cried for us. A mother’s love is more than just a sacrifice it is the emergence of communion of love through eyes of God and the soul.
Gary Zukav, The Seat of the Soul.
Homeric Hymn to Demeter, http://uh.edu/~cldue/texts/demeter.html