I am in the Physic Garden in Cowbridge, and I am praying.
Lady’s Mantle, friend to women and midwives. Named for the mantle of the Blessed Virgin, who gathers us all under her cloak of protection. Birth work often blends with death work… when I light candles for babies who have passed and for their mothers who grieve for them, I imagine the little souls being held in the goddess’s radiant cloak of stars. I hadn’t expected to see this herb today, but it was also I who started the conversation with her with my prayers. Lady’s Mantle, like the Virgin of Guadalupe, says; “am I not here, who am your Mother?”
I will often put Lady’s Mantle in tea blends for women who have experienced loss, who have seen too much blood or who are longing to bleed. The secret of this plant is that she can do both - the compassionate mother who knows just what her daughter needs.
The leaves of Lady’s Mantle glisten with her tears bright as jewels, the tears of a mother who understands. Alchemists believed this dew was a sacred elixir. Like Mary Magdalene in the gospels who weeps and weeps, feminine tears are the water of life and renewal. I think of sacred sexuality author David Deida and how he describes the radiant beauty of a woman openly crying. The key is feeling safe enough to be open.
Often I will speak to an expectant or new mother and she will say; “I’ve been crying” and I will tell her good, this is good. Women come to my home to be wrapped in rebozo cocoons as tears slide down their faces. When we are feeling vulnerable in the childbearing year, other women are the mantles that we crave to have wrapped around us. I remember my mother telling me as I held my new baby to my breast;
“It’s the mothers that don’t cry that you need to be most worried about”
Motherwisdom. This is the dew that I drink from the leaves of my mothers and grandmothers, from the women around me. These are the mysteries of the womb. With the divine power to create also comes deep sorrow, in the next moment that sorrow becomes joy again, and around and around we go on the journey of the heart.
“Our dear Lady’s Mantle give her tears between the dawn and the dew. Kneel before her between your courses, sip them up with your tongue, and a child she’ll bring to you” goes the folklore.
And I kneel, and I drink, and I bless my forehead, womb and heart.
