Matrignosis: A Blog About Inner Wisdom

Think Pyschologically; Live Spiritually

Crone Love April 2, 2011

Here are my associations to the dream from my previous post. I’m in a place like a Jewish kibbutz (somewhere foreign to my conscious orientation: i.e., the unconscious). I’m met by an admired professor friend (symbol of my positive anima), and three or four crones (images of the wisdom and authority of the deep feminine). I’ve brought gifts (my strong desire to connect with my unconscious contents?); but, surprisingly, the elder women give me sweet-smelling herbs and spices (symbols of the feminine, nature-based mystery wisdom which awakens the body and its senses and brings physical and spiritual healing in natural, organic ways). The dream says I know the value of these gifts and look forward to using them in the future (I want the wisdom of the Great Mother and hope to use it wisely someday).

Wait! I’ve just had a huge “Aha.” The seeds for this blog were planted some twenty years ago in this very dream! For all who have inquired about the meaning of the word, Matrignosis, the answer is in the last sentence of the above paragraph: “The dream says I know (from the Greek word, gnosis, meaning knowing or knowledge, particularly intuitive, esoteric knowledge of spiritual truths) the value of these gifts….I want the wisdom of the Great Mother (from the Latin mater > matrimonium) and hope to use it wisely someday.”

Matri. Gnosis. Matrignosis means “knowing Mother wisdom.” I consciously made up this word a little over a year ago, but hadn’t realized until now that twenty years before that Dream Mother told me via this dream that the Grandmothers were giving me gifts I would want to use some day. And I am using them. To name and write this blog! Do you see why I trust the wisdom of my dreams? My ego could never come up with this stuff all by itself. We are not alone, my friends. All we have to do is turn within where our teachers are waiting to bless us with extraordinary gifts.

Back to the dream. It ends with me crawling away through a darkened theater feeling nervous, yet confident and decisive. (Another Aha! Did this dream also inspire the title of my book, Dream Theatres of the Soul?) The way I feel in the dream describes my waking-life emotions about my new course of action. My determination to understand myself had led me to dreamwork but I felt I was breaking the Old King’s rules (the unspoken agreement of collective culture to discount femininity and the life of the unconscious) by entering this dark and foreign land, and occasionally a dream like this would show me my ego’s fear of censure.

For me, the dream’s highlight was my warm welcome from the mysterious, benevolent grandmothers. Their acknowledgment of me confirmed my worth and their gifts felt like the rarest of blessings. There were no strings, no reservations, no sense I had to behave a certain way or believe certain things to be acceptable. They were prepared for my arrival, wanted me there, loved me as I was, and offered their gifts freely.

Being known and loved by them was enormously validating. Yes, I received this assurance from a dream, but my soul doesn’t care where profound feeling originates. It entered my consciousness anyway, and I still cling to it like a lifeline, for at times I need the reminder that I am good enough and an ancient maternal Source loves me no matter what. In retrospect I believe the unconditional love of this Source is the ultimate meaning of the crones’ gifts. Perhaps even the ultimate meaning of life.

You can find Healing the Sacred Divide at Amazon and Larson Publications, Inc.

 

A Dream of Crones March 29, 2011

My grandmothers were not famous or brilliant or unusually talented. They were no different from other small-town, mid-western women of their generation; as teachers, they were perhaps a tad more well-educated than some, a little less sophisticated than others. They were not particularly insightful about themselves or wise in the ways of the world, but despite their learned preferences for masculine values and a masculine God, deep within the rich sub-stratas of their feminine grounds dwelled strong archetypal Queens with impeccable integrity; fiercely nurturing Earth Mothers whose alignment with the rhythms of nature taught them how to care for their families; Wisewomen with wonderful imaginations, understanding hearts, and respect for mystery; and beautiful Beloveds who knew their true worth to their families, friends, and God. Because my grandmothers loved me, they shared their wisdom and passions with me.

The lives of many, if not most of us were touched and shaped in important ways by the elder women in our families or neighborhoods. Yet, as a society, we rarely give credit to the crones or sing their praises in any public way. Indeed, in the West where youth is worshiped, the older a woman gets, the less visible she becomes. Respect for the Goddess archetype in her aspect as Crone may have disappeared from the Western world, but she remains a reality within the psyche. Many people who carefully attend to their inner life report experiencing significant encounters with wise old women, especially in dreams, but also in waking fantasies and visions. Jungians interpret these as important indications of the ego’s willingness to accept the guidance of the unconscious feminine.

The tenth dream I recorded after making the life-changing decision to take my inner life seriously indicated that I was beginning to understand the significance of the feminine unconscious. Here is an important part of that dream:

Dream # 10A: Gifts From the Crones. I am visiting a foreign, forbidden place, like a kibbutz. I feel guilty and afraid and know I will have to sneak out illegally. Dorene [a wise and admired professor friend in waking life who is married to a Jewish man] is working here. I have brought gifts for her. She is accompanied by three or four older women, grandmothers perhaps. They are sitting cross-legged on the floor dressed in flowing, earth-colored, ethnic-looking clothes. Plump and solid, with heads wrapped in turbans fashioned from natural fibers, they seem serene and benevolent. To my delight, they hold out gifts for me — small, loosely woven bags overflowing with sweet-smelling herbs and spices. I say their gifts to me are so much better than mine to them and know it to be true. I look forward to using them in the future. I want to avoid the guards at the check point at the train station, so I leave by sneaking in the back door of a dark theater and crawling through on my hands and knees. I am nervous about this surreptitious avoidance of the authorities, but full of confident, decisive energy.

Although I didn’t understand the full import of the dream at the time, today it seems very clear. Next time I’ll share my associations with it.

You can find Healing the Sacred Divide at this Amazon link and at Larson Publications, Inc.

 

 
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