– Arms stretch to tug open windows as raindrops strike pavement in a cadence outside. The primal need to air out my space – emotional and physical – overtakes my being. My home smells of desert dew and it is invigorating.
– I allow my tense jaw to go slack while I’m nursing Indi or trying to get comfy in my crowded bed at night. This simple gesture opens my very core to the simplicity of the moment. Sometimes, it is the only successful tool I have in my entire arsenal of “logical” or “taught” tools.
– My body wraps itself around Kaia when she is hurt or frustrated, offering a physical womb of safety. The intensity of this protective instinct alarms me and yet feels right at once. In the end, all we’ve got is each other. I know this. And so do our hearts as they align in perfect harmony.
– I stomp and curse and throw myself onto the floor writhing when I’m physically hurt. Stubbed toe or sliced finger; all sufferings are treated equal in this mad dance of healing.
– My babies lead me into a cacophony of moans and groans as they travel out of my ripe body during labor and birth. I rock and sway as if I will drown without the constant motion. And in a precise moment, my body relents and sleeps as the epilogue nears.
– My lips and nose imprint Indi with the scent of motherhood. Over and over again my face brushes against her supple face and soft head, leaving a trail of woman-mystery and ancestral knowing.
– I remove my shoes when I walk through grass.
– My spirit is drawn to the solemn eyes and wrinkled mouths of our “elders”. Perhaps it is that intent in their unhurried walk or pensive decision in choosing groceries; at home in a slower, aged body.
– It is the solitude of nature (and yet that deep knowing that life abounds there) that heals the wounds of this profoundly human existence. In nature, I become severed from guilt, released from measure, unshackled from doubt, attuned to primordial frequencies. I am not mother or wife or daughter or sister or blogger or citizen or child or beast. I am elemental. I am light.
– My dreams are my means of travel and emancipation from gravity.
– I choose mothering moments over house-cleaning moments.
– My body curls into fetal position when I release unadulterated tears of sorrow or anger. This reconnection to my first true home – this reaching out to me – is silent affirmation of purity.
– I go deep within my heart-cave during the darkness of the new moon; sometimes afraid, sometimes full of sorrow, sometimes enlivened by the magical dance of the shadows. I revel in emptying my cup in this way. Conversely, my soul opens and expands with the radiance of the full moon and my cup is brimming again.
This. And so much more…
What do you notice you do…by instinct alone?