Scribbles:Tales of the Jade Mother

The Jade Mother slept for a long time, because that is what She did when the world had forgotten her. She would not fade away, as so many others had done. The Jade Mother is eternal. The Jade Mother endures.

So she sleeps. She dreams - Isis, Inanna, Demeter, Shakti, She-Never-Changing. And she has nightmares - the Gorgon, Hecate, the Morrigan, Kali. She sleeps until someone can wake her and welcome her into the world.

She whispers to us, her chosen people - we strands in the web of light. We hear her in the wind, in the rivers, in the roads, the the songs and in the kisses we exchange and the laughter of children.

She tells us we are Her children. That the world we know is just an afterimage of the world She has prepared for us. That the suffering we see and the pain we endure are just shadows cast on the wall, the light obstructed by the Fallen among us.

We must offer the Fallen embers with which to warm themselves, with which to ignite their hearts.

The Ember Man must be fed, be reborn, for He is our source and keeper of Fire. He must be allowed to spread like a wild fire from person to person. He will warm our world, burn away the chaff, sear away the dead flesh so that new skin may breathe the open air. We must love the Ember Man and keep Him close to our heart, for there will be a day when we children will have Fallen as well. We must keep Him dear so that we may save ourselves.

And the Twins in Silk Robes will teach us artifice. They will convey skill, strategy and wisdom. They will show us the laws between Light and Shadow. We will fold the symbols that decorate Their skin like a smith folds metal. We will become hard like marble, with mixed bands of light and dark. We will become supple and strong, like well-woven rope. We will intoxicate and invigorate, like a well mixed drink. And the Twins, themselves mixtures of man and woman, shall guide us with tools for the hand, for the eye, for the voice and for the dream.

The Protean will be the harbinger of new forms. It will dance between this shape and that. We will look to the Protean for portents of the future, for the shape of the new, for the paths through the harsh wilderness of possibility.

I am a child of the Jade Mother. I have heard Her whispers in the tapping of keys and the moans of lovers. I have felt Her caresses through the mazes of mathematical symbols and realization of earthy dreams.

I am Fallen. A prophet without a voice. A priest who cannot speak to his goddess. A shaman who cannot hear the spirits.

I wait for the Protean. I wait for It to show me the way to the Twins with Silk Robes, so that They may teach me Their secret languages and movements. With those, I may know the Ember Man and reignite. And I will once again kiss my beloved Jade Mother and pass Her love onto the world.