Initiations, portals, a new being
soon to be four of us
As I arrive at days before initiating another birth portal, I have integrated enough of Sirius’ birth to share on the first years of becoming a mother.
It has been a time of much remembrance, much grief, and so much to be joyful for.
As we move away from the paradigm of extraction and polarity without neutrality, I am simultaneously able to experience more joy, more peace, more interbeing. For a few years I thought I needed to remove: the dark side, the non see-ing side, the other side—for peace. It's been unveiled to me that this world is one that exists because of polarity. My body cannot function if there is not a current running through me. A current needs polarity to move.
Grounded awareness is the homeostasis, the present moment, the axis we spin on, the plum line.
Becoming myself has required creativity. I constantly release the idea of the person I am becoming. Death and life have become inseparable. In other words, with every release, there is a gain. Adding the dynamic of little ones has shifted my gaze from the outside to the inside. This path brought in-tuition to the surface, a practice of learning to tune IN—the co-created roadmap leading me to this soul's purpose.
A circle or fire to sit around and to be witnessed nourishes me.
The greatest teaching I received as a mother was from a mama’s circle in the forests of western North Carolina. Every time we met, there was opportunity to observe the children in active, attentive silence, without unnecessary interference. I have adopted this in my daily practice with my family. Any time I feel like we are not flowing, this teaching has unstuck us. Also the mantra: we are a team.
Sirius spiraled out of the womb to enter this world and he knows his true nature. It is learned constructs that damn up this natural flow.
I often recount my grandmother, Sirius' "Tai-poh," and her gift of alchemy in the kitchen and home. I wonder if I could be that for Sirius' children, if he would want that. I am thankful for the years of working in restaurants and bakeries. If it wasn't for those skills, and holding awareness in very tough moments, I would not be able to offer my family a home cooked meal with locally grown sustenance in the time it takes to watch an episode of Chopped.
I miss the days where bread making had timed folds, loaves with airy crumb structure, and a starter that was used more often. AND there is so much joy in watching Sirius mix a bowl of flour, levain, salt, and water so that he can eat the raw dough. He loves being in the kitchen as I did with my grandmother.
After Sirius turned one, I felt this pull to spend more time outside the house, like I had some unfinished thing to prove. My ego had not completed it’s full rotation. I’m still not sure who I was proving to, or if I just needed to dissolve the idea of meeting an expectation that wasn’t my own. (Letting go of programed generational expectations.) It was hard for me to find comfort in leaving Sirius, even if he blew me kisses and told me with a big smile, “See you soon, mama.” The work was special. I got dirt under my finger nails and helped improve soil biology AND I really enjoyed being home. These days, as my focus is being at home and preparing for the imminent birth, I enjoy the many pauses we get to experience together. Ultimately, it is this sacred (mostly unseen) act of mothering that maximizes my heart.
Most of us return to a singular place most nights to rest, to restore, to release, to be together. This place has become sacred to me over the years. It is the place where I restore, rebuild, become. I recognize the greatest gift I can offer my family is to tend the home, to be here, to be of service to the little ones. Maybe this is the gift my parents didn’t know they set me up for. I accept it with a full heart and a full breath. Here I will be, if you are looking for me.
If you are in the process of tending yourself, would love to hear from you, your stories: the grief and the joy and the everything, everywhere in between.
