A Cautionary Tale by Mother Wild
Patriarchy & Matriarchy, Service, Ancestors
Dear Readers,
I try to post about once per month—not a very rigorous pace, I realize, but writing in the long form is a lengthy process for me. Back in April, after considering what to write, I decided it was time, once again, to consult with one of the ancient mother (see my post, The Ancient Mothers). I selected, this time, Mother Wild. Though I hadn’t posted it, she was one who I had opened a relationship with already. I told her that the situation in my country in the year 2025 seemed reminiscent of times in the past when people could be jailed—or worse—simply for speaking out against the policies of the men in charge. I then asked if she had any idea what it was that had led to the ending of the burning times—an era that was only on the brink of unfolding in the lifetime she revealed to me. What might we learn from that terrible period in history that could be applied today in order to prevent ourselves from slipping into a looming, new kind of dark age?
She lamented the very idea that we might have to go through another such cycle. “Will humans never learn?” she asked (but I think it was a hypothetical question). Then she told me, “Regarding the end of totalitarian control (her words, not mine), let me tell you a story.” And, from that time since, I have been more or less taking dictation. However, the first paragraph, is really not her tale, but a context within which to set it in. According to Mother Wild:
Keep in mind that the symbol of the cross had been well-known for millennia before it was co-opted to represent Christianity. As a symbol it was extremely useful, as it allowed so many interpretations. According to one popular interpretation, the vertical line represented the masculine force, the power required to push downward (lightning, thunderstorms, and earthquakes) or, conversely, to rise upward (grandfather trees rising to the sky, volcanic eruptions, and fire in general). Fire, in fact, was considered a masculine element as was the wind—both often conduits of sudden upheaval returning both positive and negative outcomes. The horizontal line represented the feminine characteristic of spreading and flowing—the covering of the earth with plants and animals, the flowing of the water through channels across and underneath the earth, pooling into wide lakes and seas, the gentle fall of life-nourishing rain, spreading across the land, the slow but steady healing of wounded land and people, and the visible and invisible connections linking us all. The feminine elements of earth and water were seen as nourishing and life-giving.
When once she launched into her story, it soon became clear that it was going to be of some length. I will need to release it in installments—however, not before I am very clear about the development of the story all the way to the end. Already, as I’ve dug into it, questioning at times the relevance of various parts or how they fit together, deeper layers of the story have been unveiled, the knowledge of which has required me to change how I’d written about something earlier, before I had the newer information. So I daren’t publish any part of it until it’s complete from start to finish for fear writing myself into a corner … with my dunce cap on!
It irks me that May came to an end before I could post anything and now we are halfway through June, but the truth is I’ve been quite tied up in other affairs and haven’t been able to devote myself to writing as I’d like over the past four weeks or so. However, I’ve got my life back again, the previous commitments having all been met , and so … just to give you a flavor of the kind of story I’m working on, I am sending out this teaser.
A Cautionary Tale by Mother Wild
Part 1: In Which the Customs of Lovahta are Introduced and Secretary Perri Begins His Narration
In the ancient land where our tale takes place, storytelling was the primary way that knowledge was spread—a more feminine way, reflecting the tradition that had been followed there for as long as anyone could remember. The ruler of the land, throughout time, had always been referred to as The Patriarch, and was understood to represent the finest cultivation of what were known as “the masculine principles” as ordained by a long lineage of prior Patriarchs. But they did not rule alone, for any change that a Patriarch might wish to make needed first to be approved by The Matriarch. Not only that, but The Matriarch was the only person who could declare war or commend the army into the hands of The Patriarch and his chieftains. Wars, perhaps because of this, were rarely fought. Beyond these mutual functions, however, The Matriarch and The Patriarch need have no other relationship.
The Matriarch, herself, belonged to a long lineage, each one of whom had been kept in a place of seclusion located some distance from the city, behind a wall, in a park-like setting. There, they prepared for their future position—during which they were taught by the previous Matriarch and a school of wise women. Once ordained, the setting continued to be their dwelling place throughout their service—both as unheralded co-ruler and tutor to the next Matriarch. It was rumored that the Matriarchs were trained in magic, but no one really knew, since their paths did not cross—at least not to their knowledge. The Matriarch was allowed to marry and bear children in her seclusion as well. In fact, she was allowed to leave whenever she wished, and sometimes did—as long as nobody knew her as The Matriarch.
Through this long-held system of balance between the masculine and feminine energies, the land, originally named Lovahta, became a flourishing example for all to see. Food, wisdom, beauty, health, and peace abounded throughout the land, which was celebrated and referred to as The Land of Peace. No other land could compare with it. Naturally, there were many domains who wished for the same abundance, strength, and fulfillment, along with prosperity, of course—a feature which they failed to note that the Land of Peace never touted.
And so, from time to time, various rulers would send a trusted advisor to query The Patriarch of the Land of Peace—who very much loved to speak with them. He put them up for as long as they wished to stay and could be seen walking for hours with an arm over his visitor’s shoulder as he held forth among the roses in his elaborate garden. Yet while he enthusiastically answered their questions, he never offered unsolicited advice.
Each time, upon the emissary’s return, The Patriarch’s strategies were immediately implemented. But somehow, they never seemed to yield the same splendid results. This is a story told by one of those advisors, Secretary Perri of neighboring Laforey, whose puzzlement over the poor results produced by his implementation had driven him to return, once again, to query Patriarch Rossmuir.
“Secretary Perri, you’re back!” the Patriarch greeted me jovially, “How are things in Laforey? And what can I do to help you?”
I was unable to respond in kind, peeved, as I was, about the need to return for yet more instruction. It made the ruling council look upon me as if I’d somehow been a poor student, but I didn’t think the fault was mine. I was convinced that the problem resided with the tutor.
“Patriarch, Rossmuir,” I began, trying not to sound quite as irritated as I felt, “our ruling council has implemented every suggestion that you’ve so graciously shared with me—even the ones that you spoke of hoping to implement at some future date (though I realize I don’t really know what is holding them up)—but each time, problems have arisen in Laforey that do not seem to arise for you, here. I cannot, for the life of me, imagine why this would be so. Is it just our bad luck or might there be some missing piece that you have forgotten or chosen not to pass on to me?”
Upon my inquiry, the Patriarch grew thoughtful, stroking his graying beard for a moment. Then with an “Ahem!” he seemed to arrive at an answer. “Have you visited the Matriarch yet?” he asked.
It seemed rather late in my tutelage for him to suddenly bring up a new character. I made sure he knew I was annoyed. “Who? The Matriarch? What on Earth are you talking about?!” With no further ado, Patriarch Rossmuir sent for Matriarch Lareesie.
Part 2: In Which Secretary Perri Meets Matriarch Lareesie
After some time she arrived, heavily cloaked, and hooded. Settling herself comfortably in the chamber to the left of the lectern and the door, where I stood as petitioner, she discarded her outer layers. Then, keeping her head bowed, she listened intently to me recount the reason for my visit, and her subsequent summoning. When I finished my tale, she turned to the Patriarch. “You may tell him,” she said, and sat back.
With one eye raised, I turned to the Patriarch, seated on the right side of the chamber, as I waited impatiently for elucidation. I liked the man, but his teaching method seemed unnecessarily mysterious. “I didn’t mention her before because I didn’t have her permission,” he explained, breezily, as if that explained everything. Exasperated, I gestured my frustration. I had no idea what he meant. Now that he had Matriarch Lareesie’s permission, however, he went on to deliver for the first time, a simple explanation of the roles of The Matriarch and The Patriarch—a relationship we know all about at this point in time, but was brand new to us at the time of his telling.
When he had finished, Matriarch Lareesie arose from her bench to speak. While most of her person was artfully hidden by the bulk of her clothing, her face revealed her to be, perhaps, in late middle age. Her hair, cut at shoulder length, was near to black, excepting a shock of white in front. She was handsome, as some women are, and carried herself well.
Directing her gaze at The Patriarch as if it was he who had opened this inquiry, she began to speak. “I would like to emphasize that we rule in this manner because when we haven’t, it hasn’t worked.” Then turning to me she added, “You experienced this yourself, Secretary Perri, when you learned only from The Patriarch. By your own testimony, it didn’t work.” I squirmed uncomfortably, careful to avoid looking at The Patriarch, who I was fearful of having exposed in some way. “But I’m not referring, here, just to Patriarch Rossmuir and myself,” she went on as if she could read my mind, “This is how our land has always been ruled and always will be. I’m also not just speaking about those in the highest positions. This is the way for all such decisions, everywhere in the land. But our success, you must understand, is not just a balancing act between The Matriarch and The Patriarch but between all of the natural elements, along with the respectful co-existence with unseen realms as well.
As a Matriarch, my extensive network extends well beyond Lovahta. If you are serious about adopting our ways, I will summon and train a wise woman who I know well by the name of Madame Majelice. She will serve Laforey well as Matriarch. Long have I wished that her natural inclinations could be put to some great use. It will be my honor to be her tutor.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned to the Patriarch. “Would you, Sir, like Secretary Perri to stay for any further training?”
Further training? What was this, now? Did I even want further training? Did anyone care what I wanted?
“Oh … no” he demurred. “I dare say he will receive everything he needs by way of Laforey’s new Matriarch-in-training.”
I was to be trained by a Matriarch? Or rather—a Matriarch-in-training? I didn’t like the sound of that at all. It seemed things were moving quickly—from bad to worse.
Matriarch Lareesie did not like the Patriarch’s response either, but for different reasons. “Patriarch Rossmuir!” she cried, with a directness generated by years of proximity. “Do not be lazy!”
Gathering her things, she turned to me and added ominously, “You will be tested.” Her departure left the room feeling eerily quiet. I turned uneasily to measure The Patriarch’s habitually transparent face, only to find him quietly chuckling. “What could he POSSIBLY find amusing?!” I wondered, disgusted with the entire turn of events.
