may we be bringers of peace.
It's late, my loves.
I'm tired and achy. My days slam together like sluggish, choppy waves desperate for a simple peace. Be still. I face transition again, the transition of a woman in labor with life. But I know that I know that I know what I need. It's a matter of life or death, literally, because whenever we don't follow our hearts, something dies.
So I dream my dreams. I draw deep breaths and exhale deep into the lungs of life. I thrash about and I fall still. My heart knows what I must do. And when numbers don't add up the way numbers should, or the way our spreadsheets say they should, I take another deep breath and find another way.
Remember Harold? He wanted to see the moon, but there was no moon, and so he reached up and drew the moon. He needed a path to walk on, but there was no path, and so he drew it.
Here I am, drawing my path. Gripping my own version of a purple crayon and creating the path I need to take. Perhaps it's the biggest step of faith, this needing, wanting, not having, details not adding up, things not falling into place perfectly, life not making sense, and going forward anyway. Letting there be an unknown way. Letting myself be surprised. Letting there be a way so secret, so hidden and obscure, that really it finds me. The Way shows up like a mysterious, cloaked figure slipping out of shadows, a guide from some ancient, foreign city who whispers follow me. My job is to be present and directly in its path. Expectant. Eyes open, present with my heart. It's like I am balanced in the space between stars. And when my Way appears I lift my foot to take a step; I step and step some more. I sway and lift my arms, I dance. I co-create. I press in.
Whenever we don't follow our hearts, something dies. This mama is fierce. This mama is hanging onto life.
"I have learned what it looks like to go really deep and vulnerable with a few close friends. To be the one that would drop anything for them when they call and knowing they would do the same for me. And to allow other relationships to be on other tiers because I don’t have to be (and I can’t be) best friends with everyone, and I don’t have to give them access to the places of me that are sacred and holy and naked."—M. Steward
This is one reason I'm so grateful for those within my witness circle, the friends who see me and surround me and tell me that I can do this. I can create life. I can go forward anyway. They bring me peace, even when life feels like a stormy sea. They tell me to breathe. Push. Breathe. When I'm tossed about like driftwood, they remind me I'm a mermaid and take me down to our secret mermaid cave filled with mirrors to remind me who I am.
Do you need to be witnessed, my love?
Do you need to be reminded who you are?
Tell me. Let me be a mirror for you. Let me be a bringer of peace.