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Above
beneath
and together
we incubate life.
Elaborate moments
manipulate love through the shadow
of love.
It is
a sweet death
producing the blue void.
She swims in her enormous sea
drunk from water,
soaring the sky
sun lights her bare skin.
The moon shines like
a thousand petalled goddess.
Sing your telling music.
Chant this language of will.
Lusting for vision of raw beauty,
staring deliriously into a diamond,
a dream to be a mother.
True ache whispers within
as blood is felt.
The woman wants
yet never wants what is.
December, 2007
I wrote this again with my refrigerator magnets…I’m always inspired sitting in front of my fridge; it’s one of my many altars in my home. As I was re-feng-shuing my freezer door, and changing my last poem, this one came and really took me by surprise. It came from a place within where I am truly unsure. As an adoptee who has yet to know the story of her birth, I often wonder and make up stories of the woman who gave birth to me 34 years ago. What feelings did she feel when she found out she was pregnant? Did she want me, but know that it was for the best to give me to a capable family? Did she have the chance to put that time behind her, and grow up carefree, fall in love, get married, have children of her own whom she call son and daughter? Do I feel the way I do now about my own reproductive choices (unsure, unclear, unable) because I am lost in the abyss of my birth mother’s unknown story? I have friends who are trying so hard to create a family, and have been unsuccessful in producing a pregnancy. It does not seem fair that for some who don’t try and don’t want…it often comes easy, and for those who want so deeply and badly, it is not possible in the way that we view the incubation of life and children to be.
I have come to my own truth recently. I am a mother, already. I have incubated the life of a Yoga studio: a community of wellness, support, and transformation. And, in the midst of the pregnancy, birth, changing the shit diapers during infancy, the terrible twos, the fun times of seeing my child move into her own, and on to a greater independence, she has found her voice, her personality, and her own spirit. It doesn’t necessarily get easier, but it does continue to shift and change as the pulse carrys us to new stages of growth and learning. As Sheryl Crow reminds us, “it’s not having what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got!” That’s the trick!
The beat draws her into life’s pulse,
feeling the earth beneath her feet,
the dance begins.
She wants to feel the sky.
She dances in a circle of women.
She dances to celebrate
She dances to purge
She dances to heal
She dances for the joy of the dance.
It’s her spirit that truly dances,
her body follows the lead.
The dance goes on. It always does.
Glistening sweat of past moments and fears are replaced by
ecstasy.
She feels the sky.
August 2007, Seaside Yoga Retreat in Valle Crucis, NC
I recall
a delicate chant.
The whisper through
her smooth eternity.
An elaborate symphony of dreams,
delirious moments of worship.
I see the language of the goddess,
singing essential love music
as crushing aches of a girl
swim into the sun,
asking for life.
The raw light of a woman
shines from true want.
________________________
This poem is dedicated to all women who are healing.
I wrote this poem with magnetic poetry. A little known (ok, maybe more than a little known) fact about me: I love refrigerator magnets. So, my first refrigerator poem came after a four day healing workshop where I was a student. We were in a circle of about 35 students and 2 main teachers, some musicians, drummers, etc, etc… It was an amazing experience of healing for me personally, as I set my intention for the session to be open to receive my authentic self.
The first day, I noticed a young girl beside me, Shannon. I sensed a deep sadness within this 23 year old. Her struggle was palpable. Later that day, my friend, Liz confirmed that Shannon works with overcoming some depression issues. Don’t we all, I think.
The second day, we were beckoned outside by the brilliant Carolina blue sky, white fluffy clouds and the winds that were some of the strongest I have felt, outside of a hurricane. (Maybe this was in part due to the fact that I was not that grounded at that moment). Even so, strong winds are very auspicious!
In the circle outside, we danced and sang in celebration of life. This circle of such diverse people experiencing such immense joy. I will never forget the joy I felt through the cells of my being.
The music quieted a bit, and I noticed that I was once again standing beside Shannon. She was wrapped in a blanket with her head dropped. I could see how hard it was for her to just be there in the circle, with so many people laughing, dancing, jumping, celebrating. I could feel her sadness once again. I felt it in a way that I did not take it in, but instead held her now in my oversized heart. I had the extra room. I wanted to wrap her in my arms in a big hug, but thought she would probably freak out if I did that.
The third day of the healing workshop was a continuation of meditation, chakra opening, chanting and breathing. Towards the middle of the day, the group was on its feet, singing and clapping, when I noticed the teacher approach me. “OH NO!” My mind yelped! I felt he was coming towards me for some reason. For 3 days, I have tried to sit back, and not step into the circle for any reason (often times, if you are in the circle, you are receiving some type of healing). I don’t like to bring attention to myself in these types of events. I usually do my healing work privately, not for 35 pairs of eyes to witness. I am usually a very private person, so when I felt the teacher come over to me, I sort of started freaking out a little. It was like trying to not have your name called in french class because you didn’t know how to conjugate the verb into future form.
Too late! The next thing I know I am in the middle of the circle, the djembe sounding, the rest of the group singing and clapping, and the teacher is holding my wrists, saying, “Just relax your arms”. My shoulders dropped, and the teacher crossed my forearms in front of my heart, kind of like two jump ropes playing double dutch. My arms wildly fly into the air to the beat of the chant and the drum, and I am dancing.
I love to dance. I grew up dancing as a child, and sometimes still to this day, close the blinds in my house, light candles, turn on the music and dance! So, in this circle, I close my eyes, hold my hands to god and dance. I feel as though I am riding on a beautiful current of grace, and I open my eyes. I see the teacher, John, stooped down in front of Shannon.
In a direct path with my dance, is Shannon and John. I am at the opposite side of the circle from them. I am dancing for Shannon. I looked up to the skylight, and saw the glimpse of god (or maybe the goddess) pouring through the glass pane. It’s as if this light of the sun was streming through the window, into me, as I was holding a space for Shannon’s healing. It was the hardest dance I have ever danced, and definately the one that I will never forget.
In reflection, the healing was not just for Shannon. It was also for me. It reminded me of the web in which we are all connected. When one of my sisters heals, I heal. When I step into my highest potential, I create space for others to also be in their light.
I saw Shannon just the other night at a meditation session. She kind of introduced herself to me again in the offchance that I would have forgotten her name. (I used to do the same thing when I thought that people wouldn’t remember me.) She told me that she had changed her major from Nursing to Portuguese, and wants to study abroad. I could tell that she was in the space of her heart. She seemed lighter, more confident, happier.
What a difference a year and a dance makes!
