Lately (which means in the past few days), simple pleasures and momentary exchanges have kept me reeling. I’m noticing. I’m appreciating. I’m slowing down.
All thanks, in part, to a wonderfully complex vitamin called B12.
Oh Glorious B12! has always been a champ at reducing my stress and producing a state of calm. As much calm as a house full of estrogen and a toddler can tolerate.
Also, I’ve been focusing on summoning my shoulders down further into my body when I feel them creeping up to my ears. I have had to force myself to physically slow down; walk with a focused stride, not rush in a blaze towards every cry that bellows through my home, and be more purposeful and methodical in my daily routines.
Because of all of this, moments seem brighter and more authentic. I laugh with my children till my eyes crinkle, shake my booty as I beat the bongos and sing while Kaia strums the guitar, and mix up muffins and cupcakes with wild abandon. Even mishaps have found their way into my funny bones and I can finally see the humor in the shadows.
The sonoran weather has begun to “cool” (highs in the mid 90’s) and with it my temper seems to have dipped as well.
Feeling inspired, my hands lift the Motherpeace tarot deck and let the weight of smooth circular cards rest in my palms. With a few deep breaths, I follow my lifeforce from my lips, to my throat, and into my chest. Each time, it swirls counterclockwise around my heart.
Eyes still closed, I spread the deck on the nicked and worn kitchen table and hover my right palm over the spread. Like that first swooning glance at your One True Love – or Lust – I wait for the heat (“you’ll probably feel heat”, she had said).
I feel it near the middle, pulling. I keep moving just to test it, hover over the same spot, and again the heat draws me in like a magnet.
The card, an Ace of Discs. The figure rests upon a hand-woven rug, grasping a disc in her left hand and a young leopard in her right arm. Beneath them is a cradle. The room is warmed by flaming logs in a fireplace.
I let my mind process the image and am reminded of my own daughters, as keen and ready to pounce as a leopard, growing from cradle to Earth’s expanse so quickly. I hold them tightly, sometimes so physically close to my body that I swear they may gestate again. The card acknowledges the moments when I am suspended between surrender and release, letting go and reining in. But underneath it all, the radiance of our connection, our love, our fire…will always burn. It brings us home.
“Discs represent Earth, physcial things, body, work, money. The Ace represents newborn, a gift, beginning of a new project”.
Trick or Truth? Bunk or Belief? I say neither. As Master Yoda said with his dying breath: “There is Another…”. I know this from astral travel, from being in a place that is neither Reality nor Dream.
As long as this doesn’t mean I’m pregnant (no, no, no, seriously almost impossible at the moment), I’m down with this card. I’m finding myself a bit more grounded with each sun that rises, a bit more aware of the abundance in these staggering, messy times.
Illuminating this Gift of Discs is the deep knowledge that this feeling of Peace! Zen! Love! OMG winter is almost here! is cyclical. Caution: cloudier days ahead.
I’ll soak up the rays while I can. And bask in the little gems such as these that I’ve collected recently:
- “Mama, are those your Bubblegums?”, Kaia inquired while pointing to my gums as we were brushing our teeth.
- While making cookies, Kaia poured the cup of sugar into the batter, warning “That’s ALOT of sugar for our bodies, mama!”
- Indigo is learning to talk and using her own signs like crazy. This fresh act of communication gets me every time. Some of my favorites: the guttural way she says “Thank you”, how she wiggles her shoulders for “airplane”, the pursing of her lips and leaning in when I say “Love you!!”, her perfect happy “Nigh Night!”, and the pulling on her diaper to signal she’s pooped.
- My first true, “alone” bath in months. Water to chin, I soaked and sighed in darkness while I watched a single candle’s flame slither in goddess-snake dance. This is the same candle that burned during Indigo’s birth, the only light in the room even at that time. The aroma of that candle brings me back to her birth every time I light it. So deeply ingrained is this scent recollection that I only burn it on the rare occasion that I’m able to surrender to body memory, the most open of hearts, and tiny bits of new knowledge. I squatted, heels flat on the bottom of the tub, and remembered everything. Later, I invited Kaia to join me and I quietly hugged her to my chest and told her how mama loved being in the tub when her and Indigo were “being born”. I asked her what she thought the candle smelled like and she grinned said “The sun!”. The next day, she saw Indigo trying to fiddle with the candle and said “Be careful, Indigo, that’s your candle!”
- Though nap times and night time have suddenly become a struggle with Kaia, I’ve given up trying to fight her. Instead, I am surprised at how I revel in the cuddling time it takes to lull her to sleep. Alone, just her body curled to mine, I can smell the sweetness of her hair and feel the warmth of her breath. Watching her fall asleep gives me goosebumps every time; such a sacred and primal act to witness, much like birth or death. Her eyes flutter, and flutter, and flutter until the next moment they close. She lets out a small squeaking breath which signals to me she has crossed the threshold to dreamtime. Occasionally when I slip out of the bed, she grumbles, only half-aware, “Don’t leave me, mama” and my heartstrings are pulled taut. I feel initiated each and every time I am lucky enough to be her guardian during sleep.
- Indigo day weaned almost two months ago. Her sleeping pattern at night has been abysmal since January and I’ve been at war with sleep deprivation every since. But I’ve given up the cause and in this act of submission I have gained a sweeter appreciation for some of the night nursings. During these moments, her babyness is still clear to me, my hand cupping her entire, small foot. Her hands often stroke my chest or my arms in her “Gentle” sign. How is it that she can be awash in perfection?
- I made soup. From scratch. And it was good. ‘Nuff said.
- I’ve hosted two debate parties with my closest friends. Last night, while shopping for some last minute snacks, I laughed aloud in the organic section as I realized this: between the lot of us (we had a friend’s kids with us, as she was at a birth) we had folks who were dairy-free, gluten-free, sugar-free, and meat-free. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me how to accommodate ALL of us. Ultimately, she sugar-free got left out (a rather logical choice, no? sorry, Hope!).
- While pushing the girls in a cart on my way into Wal-Mart, my beloved wooden-heeled Bongo sandals break right at the toe strap. I’m left to clop-clop-clop my way into the store with one shoe on, one shoe off; a broken cadence. I head to the back of the store to Women’s shoes and search in vain for the cheapest pair of flip flops possible. The only ones left in the $1 bin are size 11 and 12’s, 4+ sizes too big for my tootsies. Finally, I find them. I groan and sigh and then laugh. Life is GOOD. I have shoes. I am damn lucky.
So I trade these….
in for the abomination that is these….
They are now relegated to pooper-scooper duty ONLY.