The April feminine symbol is water -- the deep waters of the unconscious -- evoked by the image of spring showers and Mother Rain. Her persona embodies the two faces of Nature - the all nurturing, birth-giving potential and the unrelenting strength of annihilation of world drought.
The feminine-symbol water, embodies the emotional and psychic depths into which we plunge to discover the heart of our soul. It is filled with half-formed and unformed images, dreams, and desires -- the inchoate and the source.
The best treatment I have ever read of this Descent to the Goddess: A Way of Initiation for Women by Sylvia Brinton Perera.
Personified as Mother Rain, the formless enveloping force of water embodies dialectical tensions and requires that we embrace antinomies.)
Mother Rain is big enough and strong to contain multiple opposites and dichotomies.
Water is the stuff from which life springs, from the first creature that climbed out of the seas to the most recent infant expelled from its innocence in amniotic fluid.
Song after song mistily dwells on the wondrous properties of the life-giving rains - from April showers that bring May flowers, to Singing in the Rain, and beyond.
One might conclude hearing these paeans that Mother Rain is as harmless as a shower head.
From tsunami to running running water erosion, this feminine symbol reminds us of her power.
Poking around in the deepest part of the unconscious can be dangerous without a guide. In the words of Shakespeare: "O this way madness lies."
From the visionaries who experiment with LSD, to religious mystics, to those who journey to their depths in analysis, one is encouraged to find a mentor to reassure and explain during hte journey.
Mother Rain coaxes the delicate flower blossom from the earth, and she carves through rocks like butter to create the Grand Canyon.
Rock is hard and immovable. The running water erosion of Mother Rain is persistent and patient.
Time and again we turn to Mother Rain for comfort. We love the beach and the roar of waves replenished through Mother Rain's cycles.
White noise machines mimic ocean sounds to soothe us to sleep, like infants hearing the regular pulse of mother's heart. The waves are the numinous heartbeat of Gaia.
We build fountains in our gardens or place them on indoor tables to hear the soothing sounds of running water.
According to Random Facts at All About Water, you are almost three-quarters water. Contrarily, you may suffer from water intoxication if you drink too much too fast, diluting the body's salt content.
Like the human body, Gaia's surface is three-quarters water. Water, like energy, is not gained or lost.
Lenntech explains, "There is the same amount of water on earth as there was when the earth was formed. The water that came from your faucet could contain molecules that Neanderthals drank . . . The overall amount of water on our planet has remained the same for two billion years."
Mother Rain is too abundant when we witness the devastation of flooding, yet she holds in dire polarity the threat of world drought. The World Health Organization warns that one in every three people in the world does not have enough fresh water to meet his or her daily needs.
Water scarcity is getting worse.
Born of water, the human may die of drowning or dehydration. Mother Rain can kill us by giving us too much or too little -- another polarity.
The feminine symbol of water is honored in a profusion of myths. Among my favorites is that of Yemanja, a goddess in Brazilian candomble overlaid with the Catholicism of Virgin Mary myths.
Apple Venus, a defunct website, explained that Yemaja (alternate spelling "will rise from the water seated on a sea shell wearing a crown of pearls and starfish. Her kingdom is all the waters of the world."
Yemanja has its roots in Nigerian mythology. Micha F. Lindemans notes, this feminine symbol is "The mother goddess of the Yoruba people of Nigeria. She is the patroness of birth and worshipped primarily by women."
This is not the end of the history of Mother Rain. The spellings of Yemanja suggest she descends from an ancient feminine symbol -- Sumerian Iannana.
Iannana embodies the ultimate mystery -- the descent through death and the ascension to life after death. There is no dialectic more essential than this.
At the same time, life and death are part of a continuum and not opposites at all. Rain falls. There may be destruction, even annihilation, in flooding. Then new life sprouts, nurtured by the decaying vegetation of death.
We drink today the molecules that furnished the running water erosion of the Grand Canyon.
The more deeply we dig into the archetypal meanings of this feminine symbol, the greater are the dialectical tensions. The notion of polarities flips into that of cycles, processes, and transformations of eternal duration.
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