Artwork by Elowen Digital

I do not have children, and for a long time, I believed that raising a child was the singular most important role of the “mother” or “divine mother” archetype. As I’ve matured and gotten to know myself better, of course, I have come to realize that belief was false. Like all other aspects of the inner feminine, the mother—who I will be referring to from this point forward, based on my own inner experience, as the “nurturer”—has many facets, functions, and expressions. 

To be sure, there are as many possible expressions of the inner nurturer, or mother-figure, as there are women to give her form and give her life. Like the other feminine archetypes, she can be a tremendous source of vitality, of color, vibrance, and richness in our daily lives, whether we have children or not. And realizing her is as vital as integrating all other aspects of the feminine. It is in that integration that we realize ourselves, that we become strong, confident, radiant, and powerful beings.

The brief narrative that follows is part of a larger exercise I like to call self-fashioning: a fusion of narrative and image that is aimed at re-envisioning the feminine archetypes in a way that is personal, visionary, and creative. The inner experience I am articulating here is that of the nurturer, including the role she plays in my life and the lessons she teaches me.

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To nurture means to care, to give life, to make beautiful. To tend to everything around me with an ethos of care, to tend to my immediate environment with the intention of making it more abundant, of creating an atmosphere that is life-enhancing, that is inherently creative, and that is a place of sanctuary for anyone who enters it. The nurturer can make the everyday extraordinary. She is an alchemist.

When I feel nurturing, I feel expansive. I feel very much as if everything I touch is an extension of myself. I enjoy tidying up my outdoor space, for example, whether pulling weeds or cleaning bird feeders (which can be a dirty job), because that space, including everything that lives in it, is a part of me. I want to keep it beautiful, healthy, and life-giving. When I feel nurturing, these kinds of tasks don’t feel like chores; they are responsibilities I am happy to accept.

To nurture is to usher in a spirit of compassion and tenderness. I have come to realize that tenderness is the seat of my inner strength. It is through tenderness that I experience myself as quietly, serenely powerful. Almost queen-like. Tenderness is not a vulnerability or a liability; it is a suit of armor. This may be the greatest lesson I’ve learned from my inner nurturer: find strength in tenderness, not force.