Reclaiming a New Archetype

From Mothering Magazine By Peggy O'Mara

We all love the mother. Everyone would agree that she is the seminal being, that everything begins with her literally and metaphorically. And yet we've mixed up this rightful awe of the mother with a modern, denatured view of woman. What we have today is a tired stereotype of the mother, and what we need—what we are reclaiming—is a vibrant archetype.

A stereotype is a standardized mental picture that members of a group hold in common. It represents an oversimplification, a subjective emotional response, or an uncritical judgment. It does not represent a real person.

An archetype, on the other hand, is the original pattern for all things of the same type. It is the prototype, the model. The original model of the mother is the Great Mother, represented in many traditions by Mother Earth. In Greek mythology, for example, the elder giants or Titans were the children of Mother Earth. The name of Abraham's mother is a derivative of Mother Earth. Other representations of the Great Mother are Mary in Christianity; Durga, a mother goddess in the Hindu religion; and Kuan Yin in the Buddhist religion, to name just a few.

We can use this powerful archetype of the Great Mother to infuse our mothering with focus and purpose. The popular stereotype of mother suggests that she is weak, that the same woman who can birth a baby is easily overpowered and victimized by her role as a mother. We know instead that behind this stereotype is a top-rate manager who every day coordinates a myriad of tasks and responsibilities efficiently and effectively. She is not a victim.

This view of mother as victim can undermine our birth aspirations and our parenting ideals. Before and during birth, we may be encouraged to give our decision-making power to others, to view ourselves as unequal to a task that generations of our grandmothers have successfully navigated. Calling on the powerful imagery of the Great Mother can be a source of strength. Like Mother Earth, our strength can be gentle as a breeze or powerful as a hurricane. Both coexist in our nature as well as in hers.

The view of mother as victim does not match the experience of giving birth or that of adopting a baby. A woman is transformed by these experiences. Mothering unlocks in her an instinctual intelligence that generates confidence in her own authority. Inevitably, this increased confidence changes the relationship between her and others. A woman who has given birth is not easily intimidated. A woman who has adopted a baby is fearless. In the archetype of the Great Mother she recognizes her own indomitable spirit.

Not wanting to be dominated by others is a legacy of the new mother, because in becoming a mother, a woman also gives birth to herself. Many of us have experienced the unleashing of deep creative impulses after becoming mothers and have used the early time of motherhood to germinate and cultivate ideas for later creations. We can trust in the seasons of our lives just as Mother Earth trusts in her seasons and does not bemoan winter.

This view of motherhood as a creative process brings to mind once again the image of Mother Earth—this time in the form of the Greek goddess Demeter, who is said to bring forth all the fruits of the earth. Venus and Athena are also associated with creativity, as is the Celtic goddess Bhrid, among many others. We can replace the stereotype of mother as one who is dominated and victimized with the dynamic and generative archetype of Mother Earth.

While many accept that mothers can be creative and that mothering is in itself a creative endeavor, the dark side of the stereotype suggests that any distraction from the task of motherhood compromises a woman's devotion. We can be ambivalent about whether or not it's OK for mothers to have separate lives as women or other serious pursuits. What this dilemma highlights is the stereotypical idea that being a mother means self-sacrifice to the point of self-destruction or martyrdom.

Having a life of one's own, paid or unpaid, threatens the stereotype that mothers must be willing to be consumed. This old idea suggests that it is virtuous for a mother to run herself into the ground for the love of her child. In this generation, however, we have learned that we mothers must put on our own oxygen masks first. In his successful book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Steven Covey identifies one of these traits as "sharpening the saw." He means that if you have an important tool that you use all the time, you have to take care of it. Likewise, we mothers have to take care of ourselves in order to be able to take care of others.

We know that the stereotype of mother as inexhaustible family servant is outmoded and misogynist as well as simply impractical. We see in the representations of the archetype of the Great Mother that Mother Earth builds rest into the rhythms of life. The days and the seasons alternate between activity and rest. And change itself is rejuvenating.

Mother Earth trusts in things as they are, as is evidenced by the return of spring. The modern stereotype of motherhood, on the other hand, is one of fear and scarcity. To be trusting and calm in the face of modern society almost seems antisocial because modern society is so frenetic. And yet Mother Earth is known for her resiliency, for her continual rebirth. Faith in inevitable rebirth is contrary to the one-dimensional stereotype of motherhood as a burden. This stereotype supports the belief that one is victimized and powerless as a mother. In fact, no one is more powerful than a mother. When a mother thinks about her experience in a truthful way, when she is honest with herself, she will see that the act of mothering is not one-sided. In fact, she and her child form a symbiotic dyad, and they mutually benefit one another.

For example, when I was a new mom, we spoke only of how the baby benefits from breastfeeding. No one ever mentioned any advantages for the mother. Now we realize that breastfeeding benefits the mother in numerous ways as well, including child spacing, increased "love" hormones, and even decreased risk of cancer.

Once we appreciate that the mother-child dyad is mutually beneficial, we can change the stereotype of motherhood as burden into the archetype of mothering as transformation. In this alchemy, we can model the continually regenerative archetype of Mother Earth. We take our "burdens" and use them as an opportunity to go deeper, to transform. Burdens imply that we are stuck, that we are powerless. Transformation confirms that we are powerful even when we are challenged.

Simply stated, we can accept the stereotype of mother as burdened, powerless victim or embrace the archetype of mother as powerful, self-sustaining transformer. It seems almost selfish to think of ourselves in this way, but in this regard, selfish is good. Taking care of ourselves must be taken seriously if it is to sustain us. It is a point of view willing to ask, "What about me?" rather than resign oneself to "Oh, I'll be OK," when that is not really sustainable.

When I talk about invoking images of Mother Earth rather than modern stereotypes of motherhood, I'm really talking about sustainability. For the family to be sustainable, the mother must be able to continue into the future. She must meet her present needs without compromising her future needs. The mother who routinely burns herself out is compromising her future and that of her family.

I learned the hard way to save some resources for the future, for the unexpected. As a young mom, I believed that if I just planned correctly, I could avoid the unexpected, and so I went all out without keeping any reserves for the future. I believed that if I just gave and gave, I could make bad things go away. I've learned that we all have limits and that exhausting ourselves in the service of others does not really help them.

As our children grow, we worry less about exhaustion and more about expendability. My children are in their 20s and 30s, and now I must contend with the stereotype of the empty nest. It seems as if every area of a mother's life is portrayed as patently tragic. However, if I apply my own thinking to this stereotype, I discover that the archetypal nest is actually never empty for long.

We had birds on our porch at the office this spring. They returned to the nests they had left from the previous year, and they reused them for new eggs throughout the season. I can imagine my nest as a symbol of renewal. My children return to it for sustenance, and their returning sustains me as well.

Mothering is reciprocal. It is not just something we do for our children. It defines us, and it liberates us. When we can mother in a powerful, creative, and transformative way, we can more easily move between our role as mother and our other roles as women, embracing all of our passions, without believing that being a devoted mother compromises us. When being a mother comes from our strengths and our positive opinions of ourselves rather than from an imposed script, we will easily embody a powerful feminine presence.

While this powerful image of mother is not one of victim, neither is it one of dominator. Inspired by multidimensional archetypes, the mother trusts in the inherent goodness of things. Unlike the desperate stereotype of the fearful, controlling mom, the mother of the new archetype is not attached to outcome. She knows how to be in the moment, to pay attention, to take responsibility for her own feelings, and even how to let things go. She's had to learn this. She knows how to care deeply from an objective place. We have inherited a subservient and wounded view of the mother. I suggest that we reject it in favor of an older, more enduring image, one powerfully in tune with our intrinsic nature. We can use images from our own traditions, cultures, and religions as well as the archetype of the Great Mother as embodied by Mother Earth. She provides a model for us as she changes through the seasons of the year. This model is more powerful, creative, and transformative than any stereotype will ever be. It is by rejecting stereotypes that we begin to live our own, original lives.