Archive for mother

Ten Views of Mum

Posted in Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 4, 2012 by javedbabar

Alex had been forced by The Authority to mix adults and teens in his PIA: Philosophy In Art class. This could get complicated, so he’d decided to keep things simple.

After an introduction to Japanese artist Hokusai, famous for his series of one hundred, thirty- six, and then ten more, views of Mt Fuji, the class had agreed – or at least not disagreed too strongly – to take ten views of various topics.

“Welcome to class,” said Alex. “I’m delighted to see that most of you have made it back. We could have done thirty-six views of things, one each! But you opted for ten views. So who’s first?”

A girl said, “What’s the topic?”

“Ah yes, the topic. Hmmm…” Alex kicked himself. Why hadn’t he prepared something? How stupid. “The first thing I can remember in life is my mother. So let’s start with that. Who can tell us something about their mother?”

“Are we going to draw her?” said the girl.

“Maybe later. Right now I just want you to use your imaginations. Think of as many kinds of mothers as possible.”

The adults were holding back for some reason; they were leaving it to the teens. More precisely, to the girl.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Okay, I’ll start – a mother is a woman who has given birth to a child.”

The girl made a face, others did too. “Why do you need to tell us that? Mothers are just mothers.”

He felt strongly self-conscious. Did these teens respect their mothers? Would some soon be mothers themselves? Why didn’t the adults say something? Were they scared of looking foolish? He’d known it was a bad idea to mix adults and teens.

“A mother is someone who has raised a child.” It was a boy at the back speaking. “I was adopted at birth. I don’t know my biological mother. Mother for me is the woman who fed and clothed me, and rubbed my knees and elbows when I fell in the street.”

A man in his forties said, “A woman can become a mother by donating her eggs, which are united with sperm and implanted into another person’s womb. It was the only way my wife and I could have children.”

“I was suckled by a wet nurse,” said an overdressed woman; she seemed to be a present to herself in yellow wrapping. “My own mother dried up. The wet nurse was a mother to me too.”

“Are grandmothers also mothers?” asked a boy. The class giggled and he looked down.

“Of course they are,” said Alex. They are…”

“I was raised by a stepmother,” said an old man. “She was a horrible woman, always cruel to me. She said that if I ever told my father, she’d tell him to send me to an orphanage.” This made everybody sad.

“We eat the lush fruits of Mother Earth,” said a woman that Alex knew was a poet. “Gaia gives us all.”

“In mythology there are mother goddesses – Hera, Durga, Amaterasu, Isis, Kwan Yin…”

“And don’t forget the Holy virgin – Mother of God!”

A boy shouted out, “My mother is a lesbian and recently got married, so now I have two mothers.” Everybody agreed that he was very lucky indeed.

Baby Split

Posted in Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 18, 2012 by javedbabar

Baby was very active. He kicked his legs like a little martial artist, threw punches in the air, and cried continuously. Despite this pointless show of ferocity, no one minded and rather than shout, kick or punch him back, they looked on adoringly.

Mother cuddled him more closely, and said, “There, darling. You’re back with mummy now. There, there. Welcome to our crazy world. You’re the best thing that’s appeared in it ever. My angel. My love…”

Father’s smile grew bigger as he pointed to his newborn son and said, “That’s my boy! He’s going to be a fighter, this one. Look how he’s throwing out hooks already, and he can sure scream. Scare his enemies to death. The warrior…”

Naomi was allowed into the room right after the birth. She was crazy about her baby brother from the moment she saw him. She wondered if his arrival would stop her parents from arguing now. Many of her friends’ parents had split.

Uncle Bobby was there, proud to have a nephew. He’d known the birth process may go on for a while, like it had when Naomi was born, so he’d bought biscuits to share. He was down to his last one, snapped it in two, and offered half each to his sister and brother-in-law.

Baby’s mind was filled with energy rebounding. There were crazy bright patterns, wilding and assembling. He was suddenly cut off from his source of sustenance but still growing at a phenomenal rate. He would grow infinitely.

Where had these patterns come from? How had the growth originated?

He sensed two forces, far apart, but destined to come together. Black and white; yin and yang; masculine and feminine. A faceless horde of long-tailed warriors pouring into a dark valley, fearless, thoughtless, with only the urge to enter the round citadel. The palace of wonders. The hidden treasure. The Grail.

Very few survived the journey. A few brave lucky ones charged ahead and reached their destination, and threw themselves at the final barrier but only the first one made it in. His magical charms gained him entry and the gates closed after him immediately.

The warrior was welcomed. The princess had awaited him forever, for she knew that he had treasures of his own to give. They shared their riches, and realized that together they could grow. But growth also meant change.

The doctor came into the delivery room. He was mainly concerned with practicalities – the execution of his tasks – but he remained aware of the wonder of the matter. That two beings had merged and created a being that was the same as them yet different. Through mitosis, cells had separated their shared chromosomes into two identical sets, which became sibling cells that multiplied, and continued the growth process further. The point of conception was the vortex around which life spun.

Baby’s body wasn’t the only thing splitting and growing. His mind was also breaking off from his mother. There was a time within her when her mind was his mind, and his thoughts were variations of hers. But now he had a second mind, his own. This was his nature, beyond her nurture.

Every act of creation is cosmic, as if a nuclear reaction at the heart of a star; binary fission creates charged fragments; exothermic reactions release electromagnetic energy and kinetic energy, causing both charge and motion. The total binding energy of the elements resulting is greater than that of the element starting. A nuclear transmutation creates fragments that are no longer the same; free energy released is millions times greater than before.

As Baby kicked and punched and cried, he released this energy into the world. He could change this world. He could start or end it.