Did you ever feel the pull to open a file, or to go to a shelf and to just be drawn to something there? Synchronicity and these magnetic laws of attraction have worked in my life and I am curious about how you relate to those laws?
I found a large white envelope this morning, scribbled with notes on its front :*followup with SCIO with Sue Kern and more. Agreements to follow up with folks on that September 4, 2006 day. Notes on the cover that stated clearly what my vision for my life is and what my values are. My heart knew that I have been consistent!
And what of the contents of this mysterious envelope from the past to 2020?With a deep sighing breathe of relief and appreciation, this GMA discovered LOVE: prayers and poems honouring mothers, valuing the impressions left inour souls’s bodies by these precious women. Tonal qualities that resonate to this day!AND two more poem prayers inspired by the full moon of that long ago summer.I include one, “Stone Spirit” at the end of this message.
Dusk falls with increasing fog here on Davis Bay, Sechelt, Sunshine Coast, BC! I am warm and writing within the context of my RAV4, Pearl. A dock extending outwards into the inland Salish Sea waters is like an extension of my TONGUE into humans’ states of emotional being. We all crave for some form of being touched, recognized, remembered.
I have move yet once again. This time to Tuckers Inn, just north of this enlarging town on the Sunshine Coast. Initially asking when I knocked on the door: “Is there room at the end for me?” Smilingly, Keith , 75years on earth, said ,”Yes” and offered a tour of his five years of tending to this two acre botanical garden, gushing waters from the mountain side retreat.
One night expanded into two, team conversations sharing gifts of this location, transformed my doubt into a YES, further conversations with the Inn Keeper yielded conscious agreements and support: for a series of Return into Silence Retreats here with a win win win intention.
For a Travelling Grandmother, those agreements stretch across time when there have been no conscious agreements made and conflicts with personality issues arise to make landing somewhere and living somewhere challenging! even within family!
Yet, here, with time as the great illusion, beyond a man-made clock, or the Julian calendar, despite man’s ignorance of thirteen moons, there is a humility that with mutual honesty and respect for differing points of view, yields a welcome!
It was like that when I met John Fitz Patrick, the poet and author of a literacy that eased my body being back to North America after living in Mexico for two years.
Both older and elder brothers eased the shock that had resided in women’s bodies for generations, enslaving nervous systems enslaved by the clock and that calendar.
Today, with sun set, coldness creeping into the bones of my car, I know that the cycle of ignorance of the ways of womb and women’s cycles is over. Today I know that the loss of our divining what is mother how to be woman is over. Today, within this envelope of poems and penned gratitude for my existence just as I am, rests a man somewhere near Rhinebeck New York, who knows the indigeniety and intelligence of stones,of rainbow eagles, of clans, of the moons tides and the directions.
Today, I and millions of women can safely wisely emerge without resistance to the white patriarchy, rather resting in each others arms and embraced by older brothers like these.
Today, I celebrate lotus births, midwives, doulahs, placental capsules for mamas, umbilicus ceremonies for the future of trees. Today, I celebrate my 4 year old grand daughter, birthed through C section, yet two weeks ago, asking to rebirth her dolls and two stuffies.
Here is the miracle of serving as a Grandmother; she lay down on the yoga mat. Held the doll beneath her shirt and asked me to midwife here. Massaging her swollen with doll belly, I suggested that she and her baby knew exactly what to do. The breathing changed, we shifted to labour as the doll baby she moved head downwards towards the expanding vagina. With more massage, and she being encouraged to moan sound sing, the babydoll she was delivered.
Held to her momma granddaughter heart and breast, the babydoll her was latched onto the nipple for colostrum. Cooing, Tlell felt the precious moment of no separation. More massaging, the placental release accomplished, the umbilicus hours later cut, we began the rituals. Dried placenta ground and encapsulated, Tlell accepted this immune booster four times. Dried and ribbonned, she chose the kind of tree for each of these four rebearthings,beneath which to bury the umbilicus!
Satisfied that the baby infant self was nourished, Tlell rested in the deep earth mothers embrace, the ancient tradition of beyond clocks, outside of obstetrics, beyond stress testing and equipment, beyond her birth mother’s fear, into the deep rest of the Old Ones Ways.
Today, I found an envelope that was charged with the love of mothers at mothers’ deaths. Full of appreciation for directions and fulling moons, the pages resonated deep appreciation for women.
This week, GMA’s heart was flooded with these new species’ flavours: Matias Man and Fiona’s new daughter held naked on lap in Chile, Sarah Love’s nakedness holding her 8 month old son in Hawaii, uncircumcised and pool bearthed. This week, I rest in pachamama’s breathe as another 180 sistars dance in sacred geometry in Puriscal, Costa Rica, celebrating those who have dedicated themselves to this service for all women, for FOUR YEARS FOUR DIRECTIONS!
Today, I found an envelope of poetry appreciating the soulforce of woman, written by a scholarly sage warrior of the rainbow eagle clan.
This issue, we celebrate five years of MOONTHLY offerings, conceived, gestated, laboured, written,massaged, delivered and held by our team of midwives. For YOU to be nourished by our poet warrior artists, to ignite a passion to dedicate readers to this new decade of light! For each of you has a voice and experience and agreements that with higher consciousness, can uplift the spirits of all of HUMANITY!
Starting with the Mother, ending within HER!
Bowing down each of our gifted team of editors, collaborators, partners in this midwifery and alchemy of expression and birth!
May our efforts serve your divine selves and release the human selves from the violence of being shocked confused collapsing frozen resisting your own delivery!
For all relations
Four turtles in four directions