Birth Is Supernatural

Birth is always daunting but not for the reason you might think.

Birth is a portal to enlightenment, the death of your old self. Standing on the precipice of birth and knowing it will demand almost more than you can give, but not quite. Knowing that you will be forever changed.

Jean-Yves Leloup says that humans are the bridge between animals and angels. Never is this more obvious than in sacred sexuality and in birth. A woman becomes purely instinctual, with the movement and sounds that she makes, while at the same time suspending her ego and becoming a portal for divine light.

Channelling God energy. Inhabiting your most primal animal self.

In this respect birth is supernatural, as we encompass the entire spectrum, as we roar and journey and commune with our baby, who is simultaneously every baby, while we are every mother there ever was.

We come from love and return to love.

A Bead Is A Prayer

A bead is a prayer.

Sitting down by the river, watching the children play. I see the Mother all around me, in the rushing of the water, in the trees looming over us on the side of the hill.

I marvel at the small and seemingly insignificant steps that brought me here, brought us together as a family. The voice that has guided me all along, the clear urging in moments of panic, the guarantee of my safety and protection from the suffering the grandmothers prayed I would never have to endure.

I sit here with the whisper of the water as she sings the song of healing and renewal. Integration of myself as a young girl now a woman in the mother phase of her life. Turning 30 and knowing less than I thought I did only a few years ago.

I left all groups, religions and ideologies now like I shed everything. All that is left is to seek and see the sacred and honour your inner voice. And thank your Mother.

Flowers

You want to get on your bike

And ride away.

I want to bury my feet in the soil

Of the place you call home

And grow strong again.

Days spent in the shining jewel

Hidden joy

Of what you mean to me.

This love

Is a masterpiece I treasure

Etched in the cold evenings

Of just two.

As my pen glides across the paper

Of my surrender

As I read to you

Until my eyes go blurry

And I'm soothed

By kisses in the night as between dreams

We find each other.

I am learning the meaning of integrity

Kindness

And devotion

In a way

That makes me feel free.

I never met any man who would just let me

Cry on their shoulder.

Now I think you're going where I can't follow

And I'm going where you do not dare

To venture.

It's not to be,

It came too soon.

But I'll remember when

Loving you

Was flowers in every room.

- Jenny Wren