the second day.

Today is my wedding anniversary.  We would have been celebrating 9 years. 

I received a note from a dear friend this morning.  She remembered this date and she knows my heart and she wanted to share with me how she has seen my courage over the past few weeks.  She also wanted to acknowledge the sting and remind me that the light is ever near.  The light is always here, just like the sun.  In a matter of words and intention, she helped me name this day "the second day".  It isn't the first of January.  It isn't January 2nd...just a day on the calendar with no sacred meaning for my heart.  It no longer holds the same intention in which it was set out to 9 years ago.  It has changed but it is no less sacred.  It is no less treasured.  It is no less real. 

I always kind of liked that this day landed right after New Years.  I thought it was perfectly symbolic.  A new year...a blank slate...a fresh start.  I like those kinds of things.  I like being intentional about what is speaking to my heart.  I like the idea of rebirth.  I like growth.  I like becoming.  I enjoy holding thought and space for delightful new things.  Today I wanted to give some thought to how I might reclaim this day in a positive way.  2012 has been a year of walking through flames and ruins that I wasn't sure I could survive.  My life, the one that I falsely held as secure, burned down.  It feels like I don't know much about anything anymore.  I don't know everything I believe in.  I am uncertain of what is real and lasting.  There is much that has been dismantled in the process of the past year that has left me saying (often) to myself, "Jessamyn.  You don't know anything.".  Not in an abusive or unfriendly way.  I say it with a smile.  I say it with a light heart.  I say it with an open spirit.  It is actually kind of...freeing yet, heartbreaking at the same time.  My heart.  It will never be the same.  This is a fact.  It will never exist from the space that it once did.  I can't un-know the things I have come to know.  I can't un-learn what experience has taught me.  I can't ignore the scars, nor do I want to. 

Where I am today is very different from where I was last year.  Last year, I remember watching the destruction unfold at a rate that was painfully fast.  I remember feeling like I was being dragged into a war zone.  I remember looking at myself in the mirror and thinking that there should be some type of physical representation of the gaping wounds that were hemorrhaging within.  I can remember thinking (and probably screaming out loud) "If this is my life. I don't want it.".  Those are some seriously hopeless words.  There were some seriously hopeless moments or rather, moments where I forgot my hope.  I still do sometimes.  But today, I am in a very different space.  I am remembering my spirit.  I am focused on Beloved and the promises found all throughout nature that say destruction makes way for new life.  I am hearing the whispers from within that remind me of the woman that I was created to be.  My heart is remembering what it feels like to be ignited by hope.  This lighting of the fire has come after long, difficult battles of the soul where my very core and character is pushed to the utmost limits of what I thought could be endured and then...pushed even further.  I still have a long way to go and yet, I see how far I have come.  Today I had a very clear feeling.  It was similar to the one I can remember experiencing after giving birth to my three children.  There is this acknowledgement of being required to go so far beyond your own limits, beyond anything you thought possible to experience...and standing on the other side of it, alive.  It is a very real reckoning.  I feel like I am looking backward and confirming "I survived that".  I am looking forward and seeing a lot of hard work but also, having birthed something so unbelievably new, *knowing* in my deepest depths that there is going to be bright bits of magic scattered all over that hard work.  I am ready. 

I am healing.  I am learning to let go in ways that are very big and hard and achy.  I am being asked to live a story that requires me to be a bigger person than I imagined I could be.  I am being required to trust with immeasurable faith the path before me and the strength and grace given to me in which those steps will be possible (the only way they will be possible).  I am dreaming with a certain naïve and stubborn spirit that was lost along the way.  It feels so freaking good.  I am affirming my intuition, which to me, is the gentle spirit of truth that speaks softly to my soul.  There were years where I was encouraged not to listen to that.  I was told it was false.  Those whispers were mocked.  I am noticing how good it feels to listen and to trust that inner voice confidently again...slowly, surely, steadily. 

In a lot of strange ways, today felt like my New Years Day.  9 years ago today, I was writing my wedding vows (a result of working best under pressure and having a habit of coming through at the last minute). Today I decided to write some different vows.  Some vows for the new year.  Some intentional hopes for what I want to help create with the days that are given to me.  I had the motivation to clean out my closet and get rid of what doesn't make me feel alive when I wear it.  I did a boat load of laundry.  I made lists and wrote down words that feed my soul.  I took notice of the beauty around me.  I set goals.  I asked myself hard questions and listened for the answers.  I danced in the living room with my children to Michael Jackson and MC Hammer.  I laughed.  I made pizza.  I leaned in for a kiss with my 2 year old and just felt my heart swell with gratitude for what I have been given.  I saw the beauty.  I looked for it.  I noticed it.  I held it and touched it and tasted it and I gave thanks for it. 

I am sharing all of this with you because I want you to know a bit of my story.  It isn't necessarily easy to do so, but one thing I *know* that I believe in is the power of our stories helping one another along the way.  I believe in being vulnerable.  I have been given so much over the past year. So much.  I can't even begin to explain to you the ways people have shown up for me and my children.  My faith in humanity, despite the circumstances I am walking through, has taken off like a rocket.  The people in this world who allow their hearts to be touched deeply, intimately and truly are a force to be reckoned with.  There is such goodness in this world and I, for one, am so freaking excited to be ALIVE to experience more of what that goodness is.  I don't know what you may be walking through right now in your life.  I don't know what kind of despair you have encountered or what kind of darkness you have met or what kind of pain you live with each and every day...but I want you to know that I care.  I want you to know that those things are not the whole of the story.  I want you to know that I am here...trusting alongside you and putting all of my faith in the promise that there is something in the works with this breaking down that is far more beautiful than our wee little minds can fathom. I am betting on it.  I am committing to live my life as if something amazing is going to happen at any minute.  Because you know what?  That is how it works.  Minutes.  Minutes hold the giant capacity to change lives.  I have experienced all kinds of minutes.  Some devastatingly sad ones.  Some hopelessly impossible ones.  Some that hold an out-of-this-world kind of magic.  Some that are so deeply beautiful...they split me open.  Some so painful that they do the same thing.  We are so blessed to be able to experience them all.  I truly mean that.  Keep your heart open, beautiful one.  Keep your heart soft.  Keep a small seed of hope in that wild spirit of yours...even if it takes every single ounce of your stubbornness to do so.  There is a reason you are here and I think it might have something to do with seeing the beauty of your one vibrant, precious life and claiming it as your own.

In fact, let's do this.  Let's be accountable in this.  I am inviting you to join me in a little project for the new year if your heart needs it.  Starting now, I am committing to "claim the beauty" in my life.  I am going to notice it and embrace it and document a yummy slice of my life's beauty every day for the next year.  I will most likely be sharing a picture a day, probably on facebook...but I'll try to come to this space and share here.  Come to think of it, I don't really have this planned out at all (true to my nature) and I will just see what feels best as I go along.  It can be anything that speaks to you.  Yesterday, for me, it was my daughter's hand written notes of JOY (her favorite word to write as of late) scribed across my own scribbles of inspiration.  Today, it was a picture of my children putting on a puppet show for me.  Beauty.  All of it.  Everywhere.  Here.  Now. 

Let me know if you are playing along!  I'd love to follow bits of your beauty and see the ways you are honoring your alive-ness!  I want to hold this space together and I want to believe that by doing so, we welcome more beauty into the world. 


believing in the light~
jessamyn

All I know right now is that I have an urge to write.  So, I will.  I am.

I spent time today in my daughter's kindergarten home-school enrichment class.  I was there to help them build a small sock snowman.  A sock filled with rice and adorned with buttons, pipe cleaners, pom-poms, ribbon and on.  I was there to manage the glue gun, in effort to insure that none of the children would get hurt.

I sat in delight as one child after another came to my little table and began to create.  I smiled while observing them...their choices, their vision, their opinion, their thought, their artistry.  I sat quiet.  I asked questions.  "Is there anything else you'd like to add to your snowman?  Where should I put the glue for this piece?  Do you feel like it is finished, or do you see yourself adding more?".  I watched their faces as they saw their little blank slates come to life.  I saw their smiles.  I heard their laughter over how silly and wonderful it all was.  I listened as a little girl talked with me about how she is "such a creative girl and is really good at thinking".

Oh my heart.  It was really lovely.  I sat.  They all had this way of bringing me into the moment.  I wasn't dreaming of the future.  I wasn't hurting for my past.  I was just there.  With these children and their energy and their magic...creating snowmen with a glue gun and accessories.  I walked with them to the cafeteria.  I took one bite after another with these small ones and listened as they held conversations that mimicked that of the adults in their lives.  I smiled.  I soak it in.  I heard them.

At recess, there was a young girl who raced up to me in excitement over how she was working so hard on going across the monkey bars and she.did.it.  She asked me to watch.  I said that I would.  I did.  As soon as she was across those bars, she glanced over at me...a woman she had just met in the playground in that moment.  She was looking for affirmation.  She was looking to be seen.  I gave her a thumbs up and she grinned.  She asked me to watch her do it again, going in the opposite direction.  I did.  She was proud.  I acknowledged her strength.  She beamed.

I was chatting with my dear friend about how children just want and need our attention.  They just have such a hunger to be seen and heard and acknowledged for their courage.  We talked about this for a few moments and then moved about our day.  A short while later, we were together and heard news of the tragedy in Connecticut.  We took a deep breath in, together.  We spoke of how we just wanted to go wrap our arms around our babies...our children...the bits of our heart that walk around outside of our bodies.

When I went back to meet my children during their winter program, I couldn't help but stare in amazement.  And also ache for the mamas and dads who were in a very different space in that moment.  A space of complete and utter...pain.

I took my kids home and I wept.  I wept for the tragedy.  I wept for the individual stories that I don't know and can't hardly comprehend.  I wept for my babies and the unique ways they have lost their innocence over the past  year.  I just...wept.  With nothing left to do.  I wept.

And so, I thought of all the "helpers" in my life.  It didn't take long to settle in on some truly amazing humans.  I thought of my own pain and loss...and the miraculous ways in which people have shown up for me and my children.  I thought about how, in his effort to keep positive, my son mentioned to me that he would like to have a "thanks a lot" party for all the people who have helped us out in the last year.  He could name names.  He was able to see...the helpers.

I feel like more and more, my life is filling up with helpers.  Truly!  They are everywhere!  All over the place!  Like cockroaches or something.  ;)  They are filling the drawers of my life.  They are popping up out of nowhere.  They are endless and numerous and...in no comparison to roaches...are incredibly LIFE inducing.  They breed life.  They ignite hope.  They restore faith.  They listen.  They hear.  They see.  They respond.  IN LOVE.

I don't know what my words are about tonight.  I just keep thinking of these babies.  I keep thinking of their light.  I keep thinking of how they must be moving hearts to open.  How they must be helping from another realm.  How they must be experiencing the truest of love...and how I hope some of that seeps into the broken hearts of their parents and loved ones.  I keep hoping how the light seeps into all of us and our brokenness.  I keep hoping that we are prompted to weep with those who are weeping.  I keep believing that our hearts can always be softened.  I keep praying that...somehow we will know how to help one another heal from the trauma of our lives so that we break the cycle of redundant violence.

Awaken.  Love.  Be true.  Be strong.  Fight the for the good stuff.  Breathe.  See that we are all just a circle of young souls, wanting attention and affirmation for our courage.


My heart is set on those that are experiencing a loss I can't even PRETEND to understand this evening.  Blessed be the hearts that are broken.  May the spirit of truth be near you.  Fiercely.  Openly.  Always.

peace be with you. (and whatever else you need as you grieve)  

i keep waiting for that perfect moment. silence. i keep waiting for the lights to be dim, to have poured a small glass of red wine, to have the energy to sit at the computer and write into the silence and the wine. those moments don't come. if the opportunity for silence or red wine ever approached me, i would be sound asleep before i could even get up to poor my glass. that is the way it is these days. i just read over my last post and realized that when i wrote it, he was only two weeks old. he is already nearly 5 weeks now. and that is how quickly the time passes. just like that. within minutes, he has grown by three weeks. the fleeting and forgetting is my truth these days. i have so many wonderful intentions to connect with friends and to learn with the children and to venture out the door. and yet. taking a tumble down the stairs two weeks ago sent me into a spiral of stillness and frustration and bounded me to this home. i was forced to stay put and to deal with the pain of it all. i was forced to literally sit in discomfort and work myself through what that means...to not be distracted and to stay in the absolute chaos of living with three children and a busted up bum.

every day holds the ingredients for a roaring fire of inspiration. i have all these words tumbling around in my head set on timed dry. each day runs into the next, without me sitting down to write. it feels like each word builds on top of the other, just like that giant pile of laundry in my closet. it all waits. and waits. until i find myself here, typing while the baby stirs and calls to be fed, the kids run in and out of the back door and the weight of what i "should" be doing sits on my shoulders.

ha. in fact, i started writing this post around 2pm. it is now nearly 7 and i don't even remember what i got on here to write about. i barely finish my own thoughts, let alone form complete sentences that create something easily digestible. i have to come to accept that this is just the ways things are for right now. my writing may be jumbled and abstract. i might feel frustrated at not being able to express everything i would like to in a way that feels whole and in tact. a lot of this will be stream of consciousness...coming through and out. what i have come to realize, though, is that i need to treat it like my practice. it won't be perfect. it won't have the correct grammar and punctuation. sometimes, it might be downright ugly. i will sit with that, and accept. procrastination is no longer an option for me. i must write.

coming here. sitting on my donut in front of this screen and tap, tap, tapping these keys.

it is my practice. it frees me. it keeps me searching and alive.

it helps me pay attention.

to the moments. to the life...

to him.

to this baby. this delicious baby who i have an ancient relationship with yet still find remarkably mysterious. this baby who asks to be danced with in the living room all day long. this baby, who has discovered the magic of a smile.

this baby who is all love. all courage. all goodness.

goodness of the variety of being REAL and honest and true.

he knows what he needs and he asks and he trusts and he voices his emotion with raw heart.

i find him irresistable and exhausting all at the same time. it is amazing, that push and pull...that drive to be his everything, yet knowing that i don't need to be. he has brought a lot with him, this baby. his eyes tell you, don't they?

and part of this journey has been letting go of the notion that i can do everything and be everything. i can't. truly. i can't pull the weeds that are growing all over our backyard. i can't even clean up back there, to be honest with you. just look at the interior of my home. that is evidence enough that the backyard doesn't even enter my realm of possibility. i can't get on top of that laundry pile i mentioned earlier. it just keeps breading in our closet and i pretend not to notice. right now, i am lucky if my kids get dressed in the morning. i am lucky if we all eat breakfast. lunch is optional. you get the idea.

and yet, it is my practice to show up and to give my full effort and attention into doing what i CAN do.

i can love.

this boy. the one who spends hours outside staring at ants and observing their behavior and creating worlds within his own that i can't even pretend to know anything about. he came up with the idea for each of us to have our own "special place" within the house. he chose outside. he wanted to claim the entire backyard as off limits for everyone else...but seems to find enough time out there alone even without those strict boundaries.

he continues to leave awe and amazement in his quake. he is currently developing an interest in the solar system and has begun a love affair with the moon. each night, before bed, he goes outside to take a look at her as we chart the lunar cycle on a piece of construction paper. he teaches me something new nearly every day, about dinosaurs and migratory patterns of the animal world. he teaches me about humanity and the power of understanding in our lives.

he brings me to the clarity of my choices every day.

he reminds me, sometimes in the most challenging of ways, that i can always choose love.

and that, of course, is my practice.

he is my practice.

and so is she...

she is. she is my practice. this girl of epic energy and love....with her clenched teeth as she comes to give baby brother a kiss. she has so much love, she clenches her smile to keep the crazy love from spewing all over the place. this girl who can keep the most interesting and hilarious conversations with herself going for hours upon hours. this girl, who upon greeting her baby brother, will perhaps say (without missing a beat or taking a breath between thoughts):

"hey there sweet dreams! looks like you have the hiccups! you're loved...? mama, what is his name again? oh! you're loved Kodiak. whatsa matta witcha? whatsa matta? are you sad? i'm your big sister. i don't do anything wrong. you're clever baby Jack. oh wait. what's his name, mama. you're clever baby Kodiak."

and on and on she goes and then just as quickly walks away.

she has more sass than anyone i have ever met and knows her boundaries.

"this is my body and you don't talk to me that way" and "keep your hands to yourself" are becoming two of her most trusted phrases when feeling the need to draw some boundaries for herself.

we work on compassion. we work on kindness. every.single.day. scratch that. we work on it every.single.moment. all of us. we work.

she has worn last year's holiday dress over an old tattered pair of jeans nearly every day since her baby's birth. it fits her...this pairing of grace and dirt. it's beautiful. she reminds me of our tenderness and our ferocity. she embraces it all without shame.

she is my practice.

and somehow. we are all creating days together. they aren't always harmonious. but when they are, it is a harmony like no other. they say that true peace is born from chaos. i know that to be true. on those days where the chaos seems to be taking over my sanity...if i could just remind myself of what it would be like to look back at these moments, these days, 20 years down the road. the chaos will look a lot less like chaos, and a lot more like LIFE.

if i can find the peace in all of this life around and within me. that is the point. that is the practice. that is it.

so. i sink in and let the madness build up on the days it needs to build up and break down on the days it needs to break down. nothing lasts. it all rolls us into something different. it keeps us moving, breathing, living.

it all becomes my life.

and my life becomes my practice.

i should be sleeping right now. all signs point to that fact. the fatigue, for one. i am so tired that i no longer feel tired. the endorphins helped with that for the first week and a half...but now i am starting to feel it. my body has allowed the sensations to pass through full force. the amazing shrinking uterus has shrunk. the milk has come in, engorgement subsided, nipples healed. birth processing is in full gear...emotions are full and high. i have visited the challenges and magical moments with full awareness and now i am ready to begin to allow the lessons to wash over the breath of my being. my body is remembering cracking wide open, and then not remembering...and then letting it all be what it is. i have a placenta in the freezer...waiting to be made to medicine. i have two hands and three children. three children. three. children.

these little humans who are so brave and bold and completely raw and real. these souls who have trusted me in their care. it is amazing what feeling the unmistakeable power of birth can do to one person. it can bring you right back into your truth in a sneaker wave, with the lingering bits of swallowed energy pulsing through your veins...through your story. that kind of power only comes around once in a while, for me. the power of creation...of merging with Creation...of allowing oneself to bring it all forward.

so, instead of sleeping, i am thinking about all of this. and i swear this little boy whispers to me as his eyes drift closed and his breathing speeds up and slows down and his milky breath heats my neck. he whispers "go write, mama. go write your truth.". and i have been listening, but finding the "time" isn't an easy task these days. and so i wait. and normally i fall asleep as soon at the first sign of a "break", because really...nighttime is just a series of rounds and it doesn't feel much different than the day right now. and so i write. because he whispered...and because i listen.

the birth story sits in the most sacred places of my soul. it waits to be written. it's power and potency still stirring so much within...still keeping me in awe and inviting me in for the warmth of what it means to trust. and then there is his name...which i happen to think he chose, because it is literally the ONLY name that his daddy and i could agree on. he chose it only hours before his birth, and then we sat with his name on our tongues and i sang it out into song over him while i cradled and rocked and finally it sat deep into settling comfort within. more on his name later...

he was two weeks on sunday. two weeks. which is funny because i look at him and feel like i have known him my entire life, how could he only be two weeks old? and then suddenly i realize it has been two weeks. two weeks!!! stop that. stop the rush. stop the growth. let me just marinate in your tiny limbs and grunting and steady gaze forever. i am so in love with this child. so much so that i do try to stare at him forever and then i realize that his diapers need to be washed. the pets need to be fed. my children need attention. oh my! how they need attention. adjustment doesn't feel like the right word. i don't have the words. i don't have any words when the boundaries are pushed right out the door and all these sass-spewed words keep reaching my ears. and then, there is the fighting.

that is when i let the kites get flown inside the house. and we eat brownies for breakfast. and she can change her clothes three million times for all i care...as long as she is happy. :)

what i really want to know is what this potency is all about. the potency of coming so deeply into my own power that nothing feels adequate right now. my heart was spilled out all over the place, and now all i want is love of that variety. that potent, impossible variety. i want to stretch deeper and further into love. through practice. through parenting. through loving and holding space even when his parenting can sometimes feel so different than mine. even when it gets heavy. how does that work?

how do i teach love? how do i sink deeper into it?

and why does it have anything to do with wanting to say yes to those two chickens even though the county says it isn't legal to have chickens in my backyard? what does it have to do with cloth diapers, clothes lines, local food and fresh vegetables? why is my mind full to bursting with desires to re-start our compost pile and host some worms and dream up a really fantastic spring garden? seriously. my mind is wandering all over the place. and i like it. i don't want to silence my radical nature to any degree anymore. it just doesn't feel powerful...and right now, i am juiced up on the universal power that runs through our veins. somehow, it is all connected. of course it is all connected. yes. we are connected. all of us. one.

then i visit the space of silence.

i rock when i rock.

i nurse when i nurse.

i love when i love.

wholly. completely. gratefully. truly.

and all of it becomes me in the interim.

this is where we are.

39 weeks.

"tender and ferocious" as a poem so perfectly explained to me today.

feeling. lots of feeling.

knowing. lots of knowing.

i am wrapped up in the love of some of the most fierce and beautiful women i have ever known.

i feel them as my birth community, although some of them are far and wide away.

their love and energy is swarming...and yet, i know that this is my work, alone.

alone.

this baby will be born from the inside out.

i will reach my depths and crawl inside and sit with the dark and moan out new life.

all from within.

not quite alone, but TOTALLY alone.

i feel like i am bridging the gap, filling the space between ferocity and vulnerability.

i've been dreaming of my relationships.

in my dreams, i have been forming and enforcing thick and evident and unmistakeable boundaries.

i have been the mighty warrior.

setting boundaries and stepping into choice.

on the other hand...

there is no more preparation i need, then to *know* that it will require complete surrender.

surrender to this baby's story.

surrender to this birth.

surrender to the most powerful of intensities that will course through my bones and my blood and my tissue and my being.

surrender. let it be. breathe.

it is a funny thing, to be sitting right on the edge of complete transformation without entirely knowing what all that will require from me.

i just know it will take me to my heights, my depths, my widths, my breaths.

always back to the breath.

breath of life.

breath of birth.

i keep wondering about what this baby will be born into.

what room in the house?

what position will be most comfortable?

whose hands will touch him/her first?

the details will work themselves out.

the only absolute is...

this baby will be born into love.

deep, courageous, unyielding, instense and knowing LOVE.

at 39 weeks, on the cusp of meeting myself at the edge of all things...this is all i need to know.

this is all the preparation i need.

I am not sure what my problem is with "challenges". I haven't written a word since my last post even with all the good intentions I had to do so. I think I view it as some sort of unwanted pressure, like someone telling me what it is I "should" do. From that, I just back down and move on which is the opposite of what I was hoping for in actually taking the challenge. Maybe, like with so many other things in life, I need to create my very OWN challenges that don't come from somewhere else but deep within my core. Yes, that sounds a bit better. What motivates me most is my own knowing and acceptance. With that, I begin again.

It is hot. I am feeling the wear and intensity of summer in the desert. I feel irritable and tired, unsatisfied and worn and my children are emotional. Probably more from the irritability than from the heat but I think the fact that we are a bit more restricted plays into the battle. Yesterday I got out a pad of paper and began writing a list of things that could keep us occupied and happy...activities, outings, experiments and the like. It is a running list that I got to add more to today after posing the question on my facebook page about what friends do to keep their sanity in the heat. I got some wonderful responses and some unexpected guidance to the fruit of this amazing blog. After clicking on it and reading the first post, I was smitten. After reading several more posts, I was head over heels. Seriously, what a beautiful treasure! From that point on, my day intercepted an entirely new energy. I was inspired. I LOVE being inspired. Is there a more wonderful feeling? I can't wait to dip into some of her ideas and try them out with my own children and see how we interpret the inspiration. I feel excited about our time exploring some of these projects together and also just the feeling of having such a light-filled resource to return to for insight and community. This is what I love about the internet and the blog world. It can be so very connective.

It can also be quite intimidating at times. I think I have felt such an ebb and flow with the online world. There are times where it all feels "too much" and that I am not quite enough in that sea of "muchness". I was talking with my yummy soul sister love light today on the phone about this very thing. There are times where I loathe technology. There are times where I want to shut the computer down, throw the TV outside and smash it to pieces, chuck cell phones out the windows of moving vehicles and then travel to a remote location where no one can reach me or my husband or my family...and we can live in total peace with nothing but nature. There are times...and then I realize how extreme that really is. I think one reason I start to get overwhelmed with it all is how easy it can seem that other people have it all together. "They" have the most beautiful web sites and all of their photographs are amazing. "They" have it all in perfect balance and abundance. "They" get to travel the world or they sew with the greatest of ease or they write all these amazing books. All it takes is one line of connection for me to remember that "they" are people, just like me...with struggles and challenges and doubts and insecurities and 24 hours to each day. But, they tell their stories because they need to be told. Last week I decided that instead of taking pictures and wishing that I had the time to edit through them before I shared...that I would just share them anyway, flaws and all. I don't have the time but I do have the pictures. So, the beginning of me just "posting anyway" has begun. I also don't have the time to draft up a beautiful post with words strung together neatly and in harmony with exactly what I may be feeling/thinking/living at the time. No, I don't have the time, but I have the life. So, the beginning of me just "writing anyway" has begun. It is a way of me getting on, getting it out, stepping further into myself. I like the connection that comes with that. I like the connection of sharing life with others who get it and don't have the time but who do it anyway. I created this space so that I would have a freedom in sharing and a freedom in exploring and a freedom in documenting my life during this time. I might not have the words as I move through this. I know I won't have the time. I can assume that my photos will be less than perfect. But, it is time to do it anyway.

How wonderful is it to be getting home from an appointment with my midwife at nearly 10pm? I love this. My appointments have all been scheduled for after dinner when I can leave by myself without worry of needing to drop the children off anywhere. Kids are fed. It is time for their slumber and I am able to trek downtown in complete peace. I look forward to these visits so very much. First off, I have a little bit of a drive to the cozy "office" (which feels nothing like an office at all, really). The drive serves as a time of gathering up and listening well to my inner needs. It can be meditative, but it can also be just downright fun for me. Tonight I stuck in my "Across the Universe" CD and just sang my heart out the entire trip there. Satisfying, indeed. And really, how blessed am I to have an appointment where every single action taken is so personal, warm, gentle, and loving? My midwife is so completely *genuinely interested* in where I am at (not just the measurement of my uterus, the rate of the heart beat, the color of my pee, the weight on the scale, or the pressure of my blood) but the state of my mind, my heart, my body and soul. Seriously. My appointments end with a short and loving Reiki session! Blessed I am. I take up so much of her time just talking about where I am and who I am and what I am journeying through with this pregnancy. She spends that time locking eyes with me, and offering nods, smiles, comforting touch. She listens and HEARS me...I mean really HEARS me. I am totally seen. Beautiful, blissful, yummy midwife. This is what "being with women" truly is.

These appointments always inspire me further to bring that feeling home. Lately, I have felt impatient and worn. I have chosen to drift away on habitual patterns. I have been short with my children, and inevitably I have been judgemental and unforgiving with myself (ever notice how closely those are connected?). It always centers me, to be allowed that time where I am utterly seen and heard. It reminds me how valuable that exchange is between humans and it brings me home with a great big desire to sit at my childrens' feet and listen, truly listen to their emotions and needs and desires. That is all any of us really want. We want to be heard. We want to be seen. We want to be understood and we want to be loved for exactly who we are, where we are. I am bound to mess up a billion times over, but if I could express one thing I can possibly give my children as their mama...it would be this. To see them. To know them. To do my best to understand them and to LOVE them for exactly who they are. It truly is a massive gift for someone to be PRESENT when in your presence. This is something I consistently need to practice more and more of.

This pregnancy. Wow! It is really powerful. I feel like I am shifting into a new experience. I feel like I am being called on to really step into my power and own my choices. Thoughts that I am on the edge of something have been with me my entire life...like I have been just on the verge of occupying my full depth and heighth and abundance. I have always felt like I had something to say and something to live that was really meaningful and important. Years of inner searching and work helped me realize that we ALL have something of meaning to say and live. We all are on the verge of truth and we all struggle with making it more difficult for ourselves then it needs to be. This pregnancy is helping me simlplify a bit, I think. I am stepping into a really fun space of not needing to figure any of it out. I don't want to add much to what is already there...to what already presents itself as challenges. I just want to say what I have to say, in love. I want to live what I have to live, in love. I want to step deeply into full integrity with myself, in great compassion and love. I think from there, things will work themselves out beautifully.

I have been thinking on words that encompass the energy of this pregnancy for me at the moment. Trust is one of them. Joy is another. Authentic life is two more.

Perhaps it is about trusting the joy of living an authentic life.

There is a whole lot of vibrant, beautiful, loving power in that.

I will take it all with me into dreams.

night.