The trend is my friend
Tolstoy described a child as a sphere of vulnerability, another place the world can hurt you.
My journey into vulnerability came the moment I laid eyes on my son, when I knew with divine clarity that I was born to be his mother. I didn’t need a reading, medium, or Oracle to tell me this – I felt it inside my most profound sense of being.
They say you bring home a 10 pound baby then 500 pounds of crap trail in after them. Well, a baby also attaches itself to other things – people, places, past lives – and they bring this into your life as well.
Your ability to shake off what doesn’t serve you is compromised by not fully understanding what might be serving them.
The moment that baby enters your world, your world expands, and your vulnerability ignites. Charlatans, temporary people, friends and mentors clamor for attention, demand connection, and walk in your door as adults still lugging 500 pounds of crap that they have not been able to shed.
I didn’t want it – the vulnerability – or the crap – much less any connection to his things, people, past – I wanted to create the world we would live in. A place of beauty and music and art – and most of all L.O.V.E..
Divine hands were weaving furiously, creating a tapestry of joy and pain, grief and love, danger and decisions. And I felt I had to tap dance faster, faster, faster.
Until the bow broke, and it was no longer me rocking the cradle, the baby bird had already begun to spread his own wings, dart after flashes in his own landscape, he was pivoting and growing along his own path. I was running behind trying to catch up!
Mothering is a Mother Fucker.
Side Note: Do you know this about eagles? They feather their nest softly with down and feathers for the eggs, but underlying the softness are thorns and stickers, and as the baby bird emerges and grows, the soft downy feathers begin to fall away, and the nest becomes inhospitable and so the baby bird must leave.