Serving the Mother: Tending Glory

Grooming among women was traditionally a communal endeavor. Women have cared for other women's hygiene and beauty as far back as human remembrance extends. Washing, braiding, perfuming, tattooing, painting - all done within the context of tribe, formed a comforting ritual where women shared and extended their cultivation of fertility and health. 

Care for appearance is a rewarding way the Maiden can serve the Mother as she moves through pregnancy and postpartum. For modern pregnant women whose lives are divorced from deep sisterhood and community, things like hair care and the nuances of beauty are often lost to the urgency of daily work.

The other day I spent time with my friend the Dreamer. Her motherhood is beautiful and feral, full of curiosity and affection. After a few fusses, her tiny daughter agreed to spend time with her father and uncle while I washed the Dreamer's hair. I slipped easily into flow state, rubbing shampoo into her scalp, and massaging in a hair mask. She sighed deeply as soon as the water hit her scalp - constant watchfulness over a new baby had locked her awareness into tension, and it was a relief for her to be under mandatory stillness. To have someone else take charge and care for her as she constantly cares for her daughter. I enjoyed giving her the chance for relaxation and rinsing her hair over and over, wrapping a towel around it, giving her the chance to exist in her own body without the need to make decisions. She chose jasmine perfume oil, and I mixed it into my blend of jojoba, olive, and castor oils, weaving the result into the dry ends of her hair. Jasmine filled the room as I detangled, parted, sorted, smoothed, and braided her clean hair around the two ends of a satin kerchief. The ends wound and tied around her head, she looked like a queen, and she smiled. "Much better," she said, as she often does. 

I try to care for her hair when I remember how rewarding it is, and how beautiful she looks and feels with a clean, fragrant, organized crown. For two women such as we, who veil our hair as an act of worship, care for the hidden glory takes on a precious meaning. She is the Mother, entering into the mystical dance of fatigue, bittersweet self-neglect, and ultimate symbiosis with her child. Of all work, hers is the most important. It is my biological imperative to serve her and her child.

The sister-intimacy of shared care remains in mineral footbaths, braiding hair, sharing the secrets of oils and herbs, postpartum massage, and many other things that survive by virtue of their apparent unimportance. They are their own language, and if more maidens learned not to fear the sincerity of care, the language might spread. If you as a maiden still have energy and time, and no children of your own, serve the Mother's needs. Washing one head of hair - giving one woman time to relax her muscles and her mother-brain and reinvigorate her femininity will give her new energy to devote to her child.

I learn new things every time I enter the Dreamer's den. As a mother, she shines like a ruby - visiting her is like visiting a monastery, like viewing a well-hidden herb garden, like dipping water from a deep well. Serving her is not just serving a mother; it's serving the Mother.