Day out of time is the day after the last day (or the day before the first day of the year) in the Galactic Mayan calendar (July 25). A period of deep reflection, of removal from the external world, of exploration of the depths of existence.
This day for me parallels the earthside arrival of Sirius Lilou DeBaun. Creation would share a face of the prism with me, with Papa bear, with all of us. Joseph would be the warm hands to catch Sirius. We would cocoon in our room and trade memories until we were ready to leave the glowing aura of the birthing space.
I stretch around the edges, knowing growth happens here at the most rapid pace. At the edge of a forest, there is room for rapid growth, without the mother trees or dense foliage that shade out the sunlight. There exists opportunity for many things to surface, to have a chance at living and dying. Newly mothering isn’t linear—feels a bit like bardo1. I expand to a capacity I didn’t know possible. Creation: magic of cosmic proportion. The story of our son Sirius deepens the practices of moving the seat of consciousness from the mind into the heart center.
Much of the preparation during pregnancy focuses on the moment of birth, the back to back (to back) contractions, the breathing, the ring of fire, the primal crescendo; however, when the hormones begin to retreat to their source, the oxytocin wanes, the feedings increase, and the diaper changes frequent, a different pace ensues—a birth and death of the many ego-lives.
The birth experience crescendo’ed faster than I expected. I could hardly remember the details and required assistance from J and our doula to recall the shared moments. At one point the warm bath water no longer soothed me. I would enjoy J’s hands of grounding force on my sacrum. J experienced feeling my pelvis reorganize itself during one of the minute apart contractions before Sirius’ crowning. The body sharing its innate magic with us. The midwife arrived an hour before Sirius took his first breath. I wondered when would my water break. Before I had a chance to rest (they promised a transition period), J is ready to catches Sirius. The mind blank with awe-filled purity as Sirius gazes into me. The previous moments of expectations lie awake in our arms.
With the (new) internal coldness and emptiness (or increased spaciousness) of the womb, I needed to first rest and replenish, accepting care from others. I thought because I had taken the most care of my body I knew possible, that somehow I could escape the lesson of asking to receive. The shifting hormones, the additional loss of blood, the shrinking uterus, the moving of fluids—this would be a period of great transformation. With each new week as an expanded family, another part of my body would demand my mind to move away from comparison. I invited a space of healing with the ions of tearfalls, washing away notions of the past, holding me in the presence of creation and a community of held space.
We moved to western North Carolina to raise Sirius in the mountains where biodiversity reigns, where the Daoist practice, and where many seek regeneration in the mature forests, rivers, streams, and waterfalls. We were welcomed into the Asheville community of ‘A New and Ancient Story’2 practitioners. Sirius arrived within three months of us moving here and this community has showered us with their gifts. At moments of needing replenishment, they shared with us their secret river spots, lit candles, brought over bone broths, sweet potatoes, kitchari, and cleaning hands, offered reflexology, participated in ceremony, and shared with us their warmest hearts. These friends would remind us to lean on them. Why do we desire community yet have a hard time opening the doors for them? How do we show Sirius that we are whole, that we work together in symbiosis, that we must combine all our parts? Even in an unfamiliar land, we could together cultivate interbeing.
Dear Woman—The revolution is not just taking back our lives and bodies…it’s taking back our homes. – Peta Kelly
How do we ask for more time to heal, to raise our newly expanded families, to rebuild ourselves, to take care of each other, to embody our fullest individual and collective potential? How do we share with those who will step into motherhood and fatherhood? How do we surrender ourselves into those hard and most tender moments?
Wisdom from our friend Alexandre Tannous would ground the tender moment.
Surrender
Allow
Trust
Accept
We welcomed Sirius earthside with Alexandre’ collection of resonance music.
I had been looking for more women to surround myself with, to sit in circles again, and to journey with. It turns out that the nurse practitioner that supports our expanded family knows our doula, our closing of the bones facilitator, and a friend I met in Peru on a Buddhist-meets-Andean wisdom retreat, and comes to the house to check on the family so we wouldn’t have to leave the home with a newborn. A few older Chinese women, including my mother, stepped into the Chinese herbalist guide my grandmother would have been. My mom brought tinctures my grandmother had left us years ago. (I had no idea my grandmother made tinctures.) I phoned many a mom-hotlines. (Could breastfeeding really take 6-8 weeks before it got easier? Has anyone ever had a nipple fall off? Trigger finger and carpal tunnel are a post-partum thing? How much ghee and sesame oil to calm vata, the internal and external dryness of this period?) I would need to lean on previous studies of somatic movement3 (with Justine Fanarof and Stacey Ramsower) to mindfully unwind the momentous travel through the birthing portal.
From Stacey’s most recent newsletter:
Mothering is the yoking of all of my intelligence, creativity, physical, mental, and spiritual health, consciousness, nurturing, and skill to the present moment. Motherhood continues to peel back the layers of delusion, habit, addiction, ancestral memory, soul purpose, and stubbornness... Savor the sacred moments. They’re all around.
I have never felt farther from myself yet truly myself. The sacred moments sometimes feel so internal they seem like a separate existence from the partner that is holding me and Sirius. The hardest parts of motherhood have also been some of the deepest, most profound memories.
A deeper regenerative practice calls to me: of honoring cycles, of balancing the divine feminine and masculine, of cultivating the ground I stand on, of asking and creating space to practice and to unite.
Unconditional love births out of a feminine mystery, from a well so deep, it can only transform all participants. Mamahood can feel like a breaking down and rebuilding at times. Its field imparts big shifts in the physical, emotional, energetic, and spiritual body. It can be disorienting at other times, but we have starseeds to guide us. I wish for us in this new timeline, more community, more song, more rest, more fullness, and more embodiment.
As our hearts widen, the “i” retreats into the Self and our hearts will continue to expand until we reach infinite totality.
Aside: We learned of a fun excuse to visit Malta in Netflix’s Ancient Apocalypse, episode 3.
an intervening state between death and rebirth, antarābhava, brought into Buddhism from the Vedic-Upanishadic tradition.
NAAS is a “reverence based community of care, discussion, exploration, and development of a new (and ancient) mythology. We hold each other in the heart's knowledge that a more beautiful world is possible. This is a place to hold, explore, and practice a new-and-ancient story for humanity as we transition from a society and psychology of dominance and separation to one of compassion and interbeing.”
Justine Fanarof first introduced me to a somatic practice. Her body-mind classes offered simple movement accompanied with mindful perception. Because most of the movement sequences were not entirely new to me, I could pay better attention to the internal dialogue and remove focus from how I looked on the outside. Tuning into feeling increased my awareness of a felt sense. I remember the day after so clearly. Something magical had come over me. Not only had I never been sore from moving so slowly or intentionally without weights or strain, I found a practice that called to me by way of deep listening. If this calls to you, find Justine at Justineyoga.com.
Stacey has recorded some practices that were very helpful for my integration back into the body. If you have three minutes, “A Somatic Practice For Right Now: Three Minutes to Find Your Ground.” [YouTube]