Our Mother of Mystery

Author’s Note:
The viewpoints expressed in this story are very exclusive. Some themes of misogyny and paganism are expressed as well in this short story but by NO means are they offensive and should be offensive. If they are, let me know and I’ll fix it.

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A mother is one of the most revered and celebrated figures known to the history of humankind. As nurturer, destroyer, comforter, creator and giver of life, she is a strong pillar and a source of comfort to her children. When her child is hungry, she feeds her. When her child is cold, she comforts her. When her child is sick, she nurses her with love and attention. Without complaint, without resentful sighs or groans she completes her duty willfully with love. No bond can ever break the love a mother has for her child.

I am no different. From the very beginning of time, I have loved and nurtured my children. I let them use my body to bear the bread they needed to eat. I let them suckle from my breasts flowing with sweet running water. I created the plant people to aid them and heal the sick. Most of all, I gave them life.

For a time I was loved and praised by all. There were none in the four corners of the globe who did not know my name or worship me. Yet those times are long gone, and I exist in the shadows. Myth and legends are my domain where I abide, until the time comes again where my presence is again known. You know me, yet you cannot give me a name. You see me, yet you cannot give me a form. You love me, yet you do not recognize me.

I will tell you who I am.

I am She who dances among the blades of the grass in the spring. I am She who flows through the rolling waves of the Sea, raging tempest at one glance, passive waters at another. I am She who is heartfelt and kind who empathizes with all creatures of the world. I am Hecate, Kali, Kwan Yin and Yemaja. I am Isis, Hera, Pele and the Spider Woman.

I am the Goddess.

Yet, you hear my words and laugh. “The Goddess?” you say. “The mythical heroine that exists only in the fairy tales and legends of primitive tribes? She truly exists? What folly! There is only one creator of life and that is God.”

I watch you and shake my head.

My children, have you all truly forgotten? Yes, there is your father God who cares and protects his children, but since when was a man he solely responsible for the creation of any sort, let alone the creation of the world. The law of creation is as such: a father gives the seed and the mother bears the fruit.

Years ago, you all knew. Everyone respected women as the creators of life. They respected their bodies, their power and the feminine mysteries. No one viewed menstruation as unclean, there was no shame in sex and pleasure and the world was content.

Then one day, a strange emotion began to stir in the hearts of some of you, a handful of my sons. At first, you did not understand what you felt…only that it was more gripping and it made them feel differently towards your mothers, sisters, wives and daughters. You no longer viewed women as the sacred people they were. Slowly and surely over time, you grew envious of the power my daughters had over their bodies and creation along with the wisdom they possessed. Whatever unique wisdom and gifts you already had was suddenly insufficient. Then, inevitably followed my betrayal.

My own children betrayed me. The jealousy and anger that was stirred in some, spread to almost all and soon war was raged against my daughters and Me. My image in the world was shattered and my own sons blasphemed me as a harlot and a she-demon. A new God then began to rule over the hearts of some, but not the God that I knew and most used to know as the loving, protecting entity. Out of the hate of men, a vengeful and powerful God who loved his children exclusively arose. This God seemed to favour men more as the greater sex, and thought less of women. My sons then started teaching their daughters that their monthly courses made them unclean, that they were a weak and inferior sex compared to their brothers. My daughters, defeated, then turned away from Me and started worshiping this false God losing all sense of their feminine power.

Children can cause a mother many sorrows and disappointment. When a child is born, he is born with expectations and high hopes. He is trained according to the principles and expectations of his parents and then is free to choose whether he will continue to follow them or not. It is a great sorrow to see a child reared on the path of good and see him stray.

I am the Goddess and the mother of all, but there comes a time where I can no longer tell my children how to live. I had reached that point. My power in the world had diminished. For centuries, I hid, veiled from my children, sitting in mourning and contemplation. There were those who still called out to me in my various names, and I answered them. However, for the most part I remained alone.

In those dark times, I sat thinking about you all. “Where did I go wrong in overlooking the fact that not all would be happy with the way I had set things? Should I have given my sons the power that had desired?” I spent those days crying and mourning my daughters who lived in oppression. My heart bled for my sons, blinded by their own lust and desire for power, refusing to work in harmony with their equals. Years again passed as I watched in newfound horror as men and women alike began to disrespect the creation I had set for them to enjoy. My trees, felled by my sons, to make way for dwellings, my fresh rivers and oceans became polluted with filth, and my deep veins burst by ingenious devices to spill my blood that my children so coveted. On and on, the world went like this and I hoped it would get better.

It did.



Centuries passed and suddenly I could smile again as my children started waking up. The veil that shrouded their dark hearts was lifted, as they no longer became oblivious. It took them millennia of war, distrust, violence, greed and the death of millions of innocent to merely begin living in some sort of harmony. It is their turn now to stand back in horror to realize what they have done to me…what they are still doing to me. After a long sleep, my daughters are arising to find the dormant power that rested within them, the power that they craved for so long but could never achieve. All my children are beginning to lay down arms and embrace each other as brothers and sisters once again. Peace is the talk in the air once again.


A mother puts up with so much with her children. She must endure the pains of childbirth, learn patience, as she must attend to the needs and whims of her newborn and take the time to discipline and nurture while satisfying her offspring with an unconditional love beyond compare. How can one say that a mother is not important?

I will still be here for you, my children when you need me. I never truly abandoned you. I never stopped loving you, never stopped caring for you or aiding you in your time of need, although you were unaware. I am still waiting for the times when the world will be like how it used to be, when all creation came together in the proud worship of the Earth Mother alongside Father God to create perfect balance and harmony.

I am the devoted mother. I am She, the loving entity whose voice and presence resounds from the smallest pebble to the highest of mountains. I am She who is and always will be. I am Ceridwen, Freya, Rhiannon, Athena, Nut and countless others.

I am the Goddess.