When the Nurturer is Nourished
After interviewing Carmela Fleury and Karryn Miller of Mother Wild for an episode on my podcast, Soul Over the Bones (still to this date the only episode I’ve ever cried during), Carmela asked if I’d be the official photographer for their Magical Eclipse Mama Gathering at Kate Sorokas’s farm in Oberlin, Ohio. I’ve been saying this a lot lately but the way everything came together was what I describe as a “cosmic, kismet convergence”. This is an auspicious example.
Kate, a member of the Mother Wild community, spoke a dream aloud to have women gather on her homestead under the grand Mother Oak and after much effort, it was finally coming to fruition. Rachel Larsen Weaver recommended Carmela to me as a podcast guest and I happened to be asked to be the official photographer for this event. Oberlin is only a 4 hour drive from my home, where the path of totality for this energetically supercharged eclipse, a historical event, would be taking place.
Leading up to the event, I was given total freedom to capture whatever I would like. I went into the event as a journalist might: with an open mind, open eyes, and open heart (and perhaps a few expectations ore preconceived notions). The questions I kept asking myself in preparation were: what story do I want to tell? Why is it important for mothers to be wild and gather together? Mostly I knew the answer would lie in just observing. I myself participated in the event and in doing so, fully understood what story I was telling because it became my own.
We gathered in a circle under Mother Oak, drew cards, shared dreams, intuitively moved and intentionally breathed. Slowly, the moon made her way past the sun and slowly, we observed how a perfectly clear, sunny 75 degree day turned cold. Women gradually grabbed blankets and added layers of clothing. The birds went quiet. The livestock took shelter. It was neither dawn nor dusk, but something I’ve never experienced before. Total darkness eventually covered us and we danced. Nothing could have prepared me for the surreality and all my priorities and perspectives have shifted since.
Around a fire, we laughed and shared stories until midnight. Little was said about our children, this was an opportunity for us to be something other than mothers. Carmela did as Carmela always does and shared some little known fact that none of us had ever heard of before. This time it was the word Tirtha, a sacred space. This was it. This is the answer to my question, why I’m here, what story I’m telling, what I’ve been meant to capture. A space for mothers to be mothered, to return to the spiritual Underworld, to be in community with a group full of women eager to share your name in a room of opportunities.
There was no artificial explanation given of what Mother Wild is, no script of their mission or why we were there. There didn’t need to be. It was said in everything we experienced.
