Few days ago I celebrated the Feast of Guadalupe. 🌹 Back in mid 1500s in Mexico, on December 12th, an Aztec man saw a miraculous appearance of a majestic female figure. It happened on the hill where a temple of Tonantzin was standing. The Mother Goddess of the Mexica people was seen as a giver and sustainer of life, the Mother Earth herself.
When the Spanish conquistadors came, the temple was destroyed and a Catholic church erected right on top of it. The miraculous sighting was soon translated from the native symbolism into the language of Christianity. The appearance was of Virgin Mary herself, and the basilica raised in her honor was given the name of Guadalupe.
As it goes with Catholicism and pagan + indigenous beliefs, the convoluted paths intertwine. What struck me during the visit to the Basilica de Santa María de Guadalupe was that, perhaps, it kind of doesn’t matter what each of the personifications are called, what colors is their color or what do they wear.
Both Virgin Mary and Tonantzin point us in the same direction - assuring us of a presence + loving energy of a Divine Mother, patiently waiting that we come into her arms, unconditionally filled with grace available to us all. Millions of people would visit the temple in CDMX, asking for miracles. Guadalupe gives, like any mother, abundantly and without asking for anything in return.
On a day like this, I lit a candle on my altar. A statue of Tonantzin sits next to the image of Virgin Mary, next to the painting of Devi, next to White Tara, next to Iemanjá. The mothers of our Universe, the givers of life, the different personified aspects of The Mother. The Feminine energy, the Shakti, alive and electric at the root of all creation, reminding me to remember my own power, the one that unconditionally loves and loves and loves. 🌹