At first crying her pain was like putting on a coat made of lead, heavy, dragging me down, pressing the breath out of my lungs. I've slowly become more comfortable with her, but she has completely turned my world upside down. Her heaviness makes it impossible for me to function at times, and other times I feel like a glass of nitro... every little jostle triggers such huge killing rage.

And I used to be able to cry through a layer of the onion for a while, spending enough time on each layer to feel comfortable with the pain and the parts and the memories. But now I feel like a geologist, using one of those boring tools. I bore down deep to the very core of her and pull up these highly-compressed multi-layered slices of pain. It's disorienting, because now as I cry through the layers, I get feelings and images and memories flying by, one to the next to the next, with no context. I keep wanting to stop and make sense of it, and yet I only have these little slices.

And while I cry I get body symptoms - sometimes I can't breathe, there's moments of dizziness, like I'm going to pass out, headaches and nausea, blurry vision, and the oddest sensation of being like a balloon that's being blown up too far, expanding and stretching. But on the other hand, I can feel that we're getting light in here where there was never any light before, something is shifting in a big way. We're aware that God is out there, knocking on the door, and that's hugely terrifying too.

Describing her is going to be difficult. This is not a whole picture. This is just a tiny look at what I've cried of her so far. The uncovering of her memories is still going on. I keep adding to these pages and trying to put them in some kind of chronological order.

When I first started crying her, she was mostly just filled with rage that she keeps getting woken up and has to be aware of her pain again. Her agenda was death... mine, hers, everything. From the very first disturbance in this creation, she has hated everything and everybody that lives ... everything that reeks of life and movement was her enemy. All she wanted was to go back to sleep. She knows she can't die, there's no hope of that, she can only go back to sleep/coma, and to that end, she has been in collusion with Lucifer and Ahriman and the Denial Spirits, and all the parts of Spirit that want to stop Will movement. They had long been using her to learn the Will's secrets and vulnerable places - but she believed when they were done with their killing, she would be able to turn around and kill THEM, and then she would be able to go back to sleep.

I thought for a long time that was her only motivation, but now I know she has also been heavily imprinted and ... infected ... with unloving light and some kind of denial spirit/spiderish worm-bug.

She began... she awoke in the dark, following some kind of explosion which she doesn't really remember, except for the squeezing preceding it. Long she drifted there in the dark and cold, waiting to be rescued, waiting to be remembered. At first there was only primordial terror, without sense of self or boundary or ability to move.

It was an endless nightmare, during which time creatures attacked her and fed on her. She learned to sleep, to stave of the hunger and cold and growing self-hate and loneliness... by sinking into deep unconsciousness. The imprinting from this long time alone in the dark told her she was not needed, not wanted, alive-but-by-mistake, forgotten, unnecessary, useless, except as food for the hate that fed on her flesh and laid its eggs in her womb.

Many creations came and went. She was dimly aware of them, activities happening far beyond and above her. She would briefly wake and feel her starvation and cold and the spiders biting her, rage and self-hate and despair would overwhelm her and send her into blessed unconsciousness again.

And then, this creation... the stirring of activity in her darkness. She is the mother of our planet, she was drawn into its creation without being fully awake or conscious, but although it terrified her, she finally had a place to rest and hide.

She slept a long time deep in the earth. Occasionally she surfaced to live aboveground, and drew other mother parts to her. The memories of those times are the strongest and carry the most pain for me now, because at those times essence mingled and filled in emptiness... and then left again. Each time we broke apart was more devastating than the last. Parts of our Heart broke.

The biggest split that occurred in her (so far at least), I call Aboveground Sister and Belowground Sister. Belowground went the essence that wanted death, wanted to give up. Seeking peace in a sort of stonelike coma. Aboveground Sister refused to go down and be forgotten. She carries the confidence and sass and vinegar, and a large portion of rage much like the Fairy Queen in Pan, but from a slightly different perspective, as well as a lot of the unloving light/spider creatures that had invaded us in the void. She's more than willing and able to power-over, guru, stand forth, lead, teach, preach, and seek positions of power in one way or another. She IS our greatness, in a state of denial.

At first she had some of our heart with her, but as time went on and she split more and more, her acts and bids for power became more and more ruthless and more and more of our heart had to leave her and go underground in despair. The spiders poking at her and threatening her with invisibility make her almost a whirling dirvish, run by terror of the emptiness/starvation we experienced in the void. Recognition and having an impact are her primary motivators. Being forgotten, ignored, not seen, not looked up to, those are her worst fears, because she gets triggered into the primordial terror in the void memories.

Most of MotherBody still sleeps underground, in crevices of deep solid rock. There she knows she can sleep mostly undisturbed, unless there is a major earthquake. The rock holds her still and cool, soothing the burning. Parts of her burn and seethe in a molten river where the need and rage live on. Parts of her try to sleep in the dry buried mummies and corpses they once filled. Parts of her still feel the need to live and find love. (Here's a beautiful poem and painting that we can relate to...)

One thing that seems to be very painful to her is the fact that nothing on this planet is created without drawing on her essence. The Father of Manifestation is given credit for Form, but without combining his essence with the MotherBody essence, nothing could be. And much of the creation that has gone on has been done without her consent. Parts of her creative essence have been drawn into manifestation against her will. Unloving light has penetrated her again and again, and she has birthed has a result of this rape. As long as we live in the world, HAVE FORM in the world against her Will and without her full cooperation, we are doomed to death. Because so much of her is infected with unloving light and denial spirits, everything created without her conscious cooperation is created in a state of denial and is marked for death.