Another from my pregnancy journal. My husband and I found out that we were pregnant the morning that we left for our honeymoon – a 7 day rafting trip on the Salmon River with 14 of our friends. It was such a gift to get to spend those early days of knowing on water, in a beautiful natural place, with plenty of free time to daydream and let my mind wander. My connection with the Earth in those early days really set the tone for my entire pregnancy.
September 8, 2014
My womb pulses with life
I grow you with the assistance of the Sun and the Moon
Luna is full above me as I sit in this deep canyon next to a wild river
Wild, like the cells multiplying to create this new life blooming inside of me
Science knows so much about this process, but there is still so much mystery, and every now and then I can taste those ancient secrets
Every night I say a prayer, place my hand on my belly, and wish you health, strength and vitality
I love you so much already and I am doing everything I can to create a womb of love and health for your first home
This is such a special time and I feel so blessed to be able to cherish it dearly
Listening to the whispers in the breeze and the stories rushing past my cold and happy river feet
I am awakening
My root has caught the eternal fire in my heart
I am grounded and alive
The winds of change blow all around me and I laugh as their possibilities play with my hair
I am free; to choose, to gaze, to walk, to wonder
Sown seeds have taken root beneath me and wherever I go, I am connected
Deep down, within, I know.
It must be a Full Moon, because the fatigue in my eyes is no match for the stirring in my center
The night breeze lifts my hair and whispers “Create”
Bedtime was hours ago, and yet I feel infinite, timeless
I am the moment
A pull from my chest toward the messy kitchen that I felt too tired to clean just hours ago now calls me to scrub, wipe, clear, beautify
Nevermind that the kitchen floor could use sweeping; it’s now the perfect dance floor
And so I’ll surrender to Luna’s playful encouragement to twirl and spin and sway and squat
The mat I meant to roll up is inviting me to play in its space, sensually floating between layers of breath and deliciously explore all of my body’s collagenic grooves
The Capricorn Full Moon awoke me from my sleep and shook my shoulders
“What are you doing my dear child?! Don’t you see?”
Moonbeams electrified my veins and suddenly I realized that I had been so foolish, so armored, so afraid.
Only looking forward, I hadn’t seen the beautiful gift that laid at my feet
It wasn’t until this gift was deflated, dull, and making its turn toward more grateful waters that I could see it’s once-vibrant state
“Wait!” I yelled, reaching out and grasping at its sunken edges
“I want you! I need you! I appreciate you! I’m so sorry I couldn’t see.”
I don’t doubt that a wise, observant goddess dipped her finger into the cosmic cauldron and gave it a swirl, revealing to me the vast chasm between the truth and my perception.
And so, I am surrendered, finally seeing, humbly naked, heart wide open.
I want to remain like the Ocean, ebbing and flowing and full
My fullness is my joy. My presence, my rootedness, my enjoyment of others.
My only job, as The Ocean, is to stay full.
When she is full and she ebbs and flows, she also glistens and dances. She is at once soft and powerful. She roars and whispers.
People who seek joy, beauty, and play flock to her, and she holds entire communities up just by being herself, in her fullness. They dance at her feet and celebrate her body. They sway like her. They are free and fierce like her.
I wrote this in my journal back in February while watching a massive amount of snow fall. It had all just melted the day before, leaving us hopeful that the brutal Winter might finally be letting up, all to dump feet of snow just as the last bit of old snow was sliding off rooftops and revealing cars that had been buried for weeks (mine included).
Mother Winter, you are merciless in your persistence
If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were cold
Just when we are sick of the dirty slush that hints at your surrender to Spring, you shower us with fluffy, serene snowflakes, the same romantic kind we were praying for two months ago at Christmas
It’s funny, when everything is buried under snow, it’s hard to remember what the town looks like without it all
Then, when it melts, it feels hard to believe that you are seeing things which were once invisible
When the Winter is long and melts are brief, watching everything become enveloped with white again feels so satisfying, so familiar
As if we couldn’t put our finger on what was needed to finish off the canvas, and then you waltzed in with the breeze and offered the perfect finishing touch, suddenly revealing a masterpiece
As the Summer nights begin to chill and the colder months seem fast approaching, I find myself meditating on the all-consuming nature of deep Winter. Where I live, there is snow on the ground for 6 months out of the year, on average. Winter is a character in itself and there is much talk of preparation, survival, depression, and escape. Even the most stoic figures in my town willingly reveal their blunt emotions about the snow. I wrote this on a bar napkin in January, while enjoying a glass of wine at my favorite watering hole while I listened to one of my friends serenade the crowd and watched everyone dance and drink, a welcome escape from the harshest Winter we’ve seen in decades. It was well below freezing on this night.
Snowy mountain passes seal us off from the world
Blizzards whisper to us that we are, indeed, within the snowglobes we admire so longingly
Moments of peace, and the ethereal nature of Winter lasts as long as it takes for cabin fever to set in
The grinding of gears, sliding of tires, clicking of chains and cold stuckness bring us back down to Earth like the winds that turn fluffy snowflakes into a stinging storm
Within these bricks, we find beer, escape, and the warmth of reggae on Colton’s guitar
The sounds take us out of our frozen bones and into sweaty, swaying bodies with smiling faces
The inspired fingers of a stirring man l lead us outside of our daily settlement of deep, soul-stealing Winter and into any season, any time, any self, any other
Swaying, sweaty bodies wilt into soaring hearts and glistening eyes like those of every ancestor before us