Guest post by Janine Weaver Chase. Janine graduated from BYU in communicative disorders and education. She has an extensive background in integrative, holistic therapies and has worked in that field for 30 years. She has a great husband, six fascinating children, three children-in-law, and 13 grandchildren who light up her life. She lives in Orem, Utah.
Leaning against a tree, deep in the jungles of Borneo, an unguarded group of orangutans gave me a glimpse of pure patriarchy that also helped me to see the majesty of Mother.
It was 2015 and I had traveled miles upriver with an international group of caregivers who had been observing this tribe of orangutans for years. In the primal essence of this space—the jungle, the river, the animals in their native habitat—it was as if I had entered the Garden of Eden. I felt home in a way I had never felt before.
There is something about orangutans that calls forth a connection with them that is millennia old. The Indonesian translation of the word orangutan means, “man of the forest.” Among their most observable traits is the strength of their patriarchal order. Over the years our group had watched their hierarchy play out in intense fighting, domination, protection, submission, capitulation, and in the creation and nurturing of offspring.
On this particular visit, as I melded into the tree observing and meditating on what the orangutans had to teach me, something opened in my senses. I saw a light come down from where the ruling male was perched in the branches above me through the trunk into the roots and into me. It coursed its way through my whole body. It brought with it a phrase I could audibly hear with my inner ear, “This is what true patriarchy is.”
It was somehow obvious to me that this message wasn’t coming from Tom, our name for the “king” in his lofty perch. It was coming from the wholeness of the place, a wholeness that was perceivable because the vicissitudes of civilization hadn’t yet disturbed the true order of life here.
Held by that wholeness, I felt an almost overpowering sense of love that stretched out across the universe and, miraculously, included me as an integral part of it. In the depth and clarity of this oneness, I now knew this love to be the essence and power of God the Father. Gone was the angry, judgmental, measuring God that we have created and wired into our DNA through centuries of seeking to explain the narratives our lives. No, the Father God I could perceive in this place embraced power and yet surrender, was equally at home in light and shadow, and created intense connection that pulsed with gentle detachment.
Since that time this experience, as difficult as it is to give language, has left its mark deep within me and has forged a new path of the masculine through the jungles of life that simply has no attachment outside of anything that doesn’t speak of love, support, and oneness.
But there is more to this oneness than just patriarchy.
As I blended in with this jungle home—the orangutans sauntering around brushing shoulders with me as though I was one of them—my meditation was stirred with another thought, a question.
“And what do you call her?”
“Eve.”
“And why do you call her Eve?’’
“Because she is the Mother of All Living.”
The phrase shot through me with an intensity of light that reverberated through every cell in my body. I could hardly breathe with the power of it. It was as if Eve, the Mother of All Living, had revealed herself before me and awakened me to my divine presence, power, and majesty.
In the power of this maternal light, I felt a charge to step more fully into my mother role.
There, amongst the trees and ferns with the rich damp smell of the earth and the humming song of the cicadas, I felt all Nature was poised to assist me—and all women—in fulfilling this role. I felt as if I was being told to pay attention. That this is the time to become who we always have been. In the light of this Edenic place, I could clearly see that as women take on the true expression of Mother, the fruit born will be beyond measure.
So how does the truth of matriarchy look in the jungle and garden of my daily life?
I am a healer, or rather, I do healing work and have done for the last 30 years. I have a college degree and have taken dozens of courses in healing modalities. I have witnessed healing in many forms. Each story has shaped my story. The road has not been easy for me. Occasionally people have felt threatened by my work. But I have always had support and encouragement from my family and friends, even bishops and a beloved mission president.
I have a gift. To be true to the mother in me is to state that as a matter of fact. I have been taught to develop this healing gift by some of the world’s leading healers and, more importantly, by Spirit. I have fumbled my way through breathtaking challenges and heartache, but the healing I share is always respectful of whatever anyone else brings to the table, including the strength of priesthood power.
So how do I step into what it means for me to be a “Mother of All Living” with authority and grace? And how do I do this in concert with my beloved patriarchal other? How do we learn to do this sacred dance together?
One answer for me is to be present, moment to moment, with an open heart, taking on the true message of the Atonement—the divine love flowing from the bitter cup that Christ drank for us in the Garden of Gethsemane. I can see the power of this Love—of Christ’s Atonement—as I participate or witness true healing. In whatever form, healing one nourishes and heals us all. This is the true song of the Universe.
There are examples of this all around us. Recently, a friend with stage four cancer was in a great deal of pain. Another friend and I were in a frantic search to find a solution for her. I reached out to a third woman to see if she had the product we were looking for. She didn’t, but asked if she could help. I thanked her, but there was nothing else I could think of for her to do. But then I felt to stop and get quiet. I heard the phrase, “She has healing hands. Ask her.” I wondered if she would even know what I was talking about, but I texted her back, “You have healing hands. Imagine putting them on the abdomen and soothing it.” She said she would. Within 15 minutes, my friend with cancer texted that the crisis was over.
I, with all my training, couldn’t assist her at that moment, but the Spirit witnessed to me that there is a reservoir of healing for us to access. This woman stepped up and into who we always have been as women. There are countless ways to witness or perform this. And it doesn’t always require “doing,” but sometimes just being still and listening to that song that heals and harmonizes with every living thing.
On occasion I feel an orangutan brush by my shoulder and remind me of what it feels like to be in a jungle that is alight with wholeness. As women, it is time for us to step into and fulfill the role of be “Mothers of All Living”—with absolute love—knowing that we are in partnership with our Savior, Jesus Christ.
This post is part of the series, Reconstructing Faith. Find more from this series here.
2 Responses
Thank you for sharing your insights and experiences that have shown you the unity of all things. I especially appreciate the idea that healing one helps heal us all.