This book came into my life as so many do: It simply appeared on the pile on my desk. I was immediately attracted to the title, and to the magnificent painting done by Sjöö that illustrates the cover. I had been mourning the deep absence of balance in human lifeand, especially, the horrible denial and suppression of the feminine—in women, in men, in nature. I could see that much of our behavior in this regard had to do with ignorance, an ignorance carefully maintained by a system that, in a sense, fed everything it considered nutritious to the male and only what was left over, and less substantive, to the female.
I saw that this imbalance was inextricably bound to the fact that people all over the world worship a male God, and have made every attempt to expunge the feminine from the realm of the sacred. I realized that the imbalance that stems from this leads to many inexplicable things, for instance, the constant presence of war, in the waging of which women, generally speaking, have no say, though they produce every single one of the warriors. And the fact that our otherwise quite conscious daughters and granddaughters refer to themselves and to other womenas "guys" without a trace of irony.
The Great Cosmic Mother , with appropriate heart and outrage, begins to remedy this situation. In the crisp prose of crones who know their stuff, Sjüü and Mor drag back into the light of day the necessary medicine to restore the ailing feminine: our herstory on this planet. It may well be too late, but at least we should know. It is an astonishing read, for we find ourselves, with ample documentation, fully connected at our roots with all indigenous peoples who have called Earth "Mother."
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