Uncovering Mary

Many of us, me included, have had a very complicated relationship with Mother Mary. Or rather, with how she was portrayed to us and we, in our childhood innocence,  took her as lifeless and submissive as she had been presented. On my path to feminine empowerment, however, she has been my biggest cheerleader.

I first felt Mary’s energy as part of the Great Mother’s during my Kundalini Yoga teacher training. I didn’t know it was Mary’s so was free to explore and enjoy it without being encumbered by the Catholic dogma. Once I found out it was Mother Mary, however, the familiar guilt, shame, and repulsion kicked in.

Many a time I wanted to throw her out of my life and be done with all that. But as insidious as these feelings were, I realized that they were calling me to transform my beliefs and heal my relationship with her – on all levels, including in connection to the Catholic religion. Only then will I truly feel free to be the woman I am.

To help me with this, a series of seemingly coincidental, or as I believe divinely guided, experiences transpired then, one of which I wish to share here with you.

It was a beautiful Easter Sunday. On the suggestion of my father-in-law, who is not a religious man, our extended family traveled to Island Visovac. I knew nothing about the island before the trip, but as the boat glided over the green, mysterious surface of the lake, and the island beckoned from its middle, a hush descended over me. It was as though Mary has just wrapped me in her embrace.

Colloquially, Island Visovac is called the Island of the Lady, and the lady is called the Lady of Angels. A Franciscan monk, one of many who have taken care of the island for more than five hundred years, greeted us at the dock and told us where we can find the museum, the gardens, and the chapel, and then let us roam on our own.

In the gardens, I marveled at the industriously planted rows of, what looked like, bamboo trees, and the peacock opening its tail, batting its thousand eyes at me. In the museum, I smiled at the paintings of Mary Magdalene and Mother Mary in a room together. My smile widened as I realized that Mother Mary’s painting showed her feeding baby Jesus from her naked breast!

At the back of the monastery, I saw the broken statue of Our Lady by Ivan Meštrović, destroyed during World War II, and felt both the shadow of a violent history that didn’t bypass the Island of the Lady and the monks’ courage to protect that which they felt was sacred.

Then I heard the bell from the chapel and my feet turned to follow it. As the waves lapped the island’s shore, I climbed the stone steps towards the chapel’s entrance. Inside, all I could see were the brown robes on the monks’ backs and their bowed heads. One of them would sing out a line and the others repeated it. Thus their voices full of longing poured their hearts into the chapel, raising their call to the Heavens. The call was to the Lady of Angels, and it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard.

I haven’t been to mass in decades, except for a baptism a few years back, which only made me want to stay away from it even more. But these monks have touched my soul and there was no way I could leave now. During the mass, I don’t remember what the priest was saying only that I stared at the enormous painting of Mary above the alter and cried from deep within my heart. I felt split open to touch God. Then I felt touched by God. In church, of all places, where I never thought this could happen.

And this gave me wings. When people started to get up for communion, I joined the queue without thinking. No fear, guilt, or shame, just love. I haven’t been to confession in decades but I knew then that I didn’t need to confess my sins to a priest to be forgiven or to receive hostia, the body of Christ. God never got mad at me and I was, like everyone else, part of the body of Christ. And so I took the hostia and walked back to my seat, my heart expanding further, a big grin spilling across my face.

After the mass, there was a small gathering of parents, children, and one of the friars in front of the big painting of Mother Mary. Some people were squatting to squeeze by the alter, and there was a feeling of something not to be missed. I bent down and crawled between the wall and the stone alter to resurface behind the alter and close to the chapel’s outer wall.

A light was coming from somewhere. I wasn’t quite sure from where but what it was shining on was an old fresco of the Madonna on the wall who seemed to be whispering to me to come closer. I couldn’t quite believe what I was feeling and seeing, only that it felt like a miracle. I came out to see the friar smiling, nodding, and the children running around the church eating chocolate candy.

I walked softly then upon the Island Visovac, inhaling the silky air, gazing upon the green lake, extending towards the mountains and the reedy shore in the distance. Years fell away and through them all, violent and peaceful, the monks were here, preserving the memory of the Great Mother and her power to create Life.

They wanted us to remember that we are loved and a part of something bigger. They wanted her to continue living in the human heart and mind. They wanted her close because they knew that without her here there was no life. Without her, there was nothing.

And she showed up in the first shoots of grass that rose from the ground, in the birds’ song, the peacock’s tail, and the green water calling us deeper into ourselves. She showed up in the paintings and sculptures, and the songs we sing. From Kundalini Shakti to the Lady of Angels, and anywhere else we dare to feel her, she keeps moving through our lives, calling us home to our hearts. There, all preconceived notions, stories, and beliefs give way to Love, and at long last, we are free.