As the vibrato chop of the helicopter rushes over our night-drenched house, I remember. I remember the dusty trails and the peppercorn boughs. Little dangling trinkets in the sun. I remember how the oil drills filled the space between the horizon and me, and how I turned away. My son dropped his wide little knees to the dirt and put rocks in his mouth. I pull them out but don’t care too much. “This way,” I tell him, “this way.”
It’s hot and dry, and I am so very thirsty. I remember what it felt like to give priority to this flowing. This trickle which when I let it turns into a gushing river. I remembered today, as I walked that eucalypt mountain, the wilder girl in me who doesn’t bother with the time of night, the provenance of the menu, the state of the floors. Now with my son, my precious darling son in my life, I am encouraged yet again to break free of my self.
It’s a sacred thing, this receiving, this offering. I’m seeing how very vital this creating is. I had forgotten that with this giving, we find each other. We become closer to the heart of ourselves and our humanity. It’s all I seem to write about these days, but that’s okay. From the moment my eyes open in the morning, I am in a constant state of doing. Wash this, boil that, rinse that, cook that, strip this, clothe, wipe, nurse, respond to this, wash that, cook that, clean that, and so on and so on it goes and goes and goes.
You can’t imagine (mothers you may) how refreshing it is to just sit here at 12:19am after all has been said and done, and just write. Let it all drop off the edges of my fingertips. My eyes are so tired and my back aches from carrying my son up a mountain today, but I don’t care. This is my church. I am listening. I am here.
It’s been a long time coming, this trickling back. I know some part of me shut down when I experienced a miscarriage seven weeks into my first pregnancy. In that frenzy with all the ambulances and tears and ginger movements, I lost my courage to give. But something is changing in me. I am gathering the magic again. Slowly I am walking the trails, looking back through the shadows, the forests of trees, and I am seeing myself in it all again. I am participating in this sacred river again. There is more to life than meets the eye, I know it. I feel it. I remember it.
They breathe deeply next to me and I feel so content. I don’t need much. Just a few minutes to swim in this sun river, this beloved dance. Can you remember what it was like, my soul? What it was like to be so incredibly YOU? Let’s go back there again. I will take you. Hold my hand. Don’t let go! Until next time – my eyes are open and my pen is poised. Bring it on, magic, oh yes bring it on.