Letting Go Part 2

Our own lives...are a series of little deaths, letting go of the old to make room for something new to be born. Each of these letting-goes entails a transition- a passage - from the way things were to the way things will be.

Joan Borysenko, Ph.D. Fire in the Soul

On the morning of June 3, I sensed my pregnancy coming to an end when amniotic fluid began to leak. Bronte, Chloe, Mom, and I packed our obscene amount of luggage into the car and drove an hour into to town. After a long day of walking up and down hills in the smoldering sun in efforts to get my labor started, we went to see my midwife who gave me the disheartening news that it could still be a few days before I deliver. Tired, hot, and uncomfortable, I began to freak out. My mom suggested we go out to dinner, rent a movie, and relax in our hotel room for the night, I happily agreed thinking that if I wasn't going to have my baby I might as well ease up and enjoy myself. We went to an adorable Italian restaurant and ordered an array of delicious salads, appetizers, and pastas. Just after finishing my salad I stood up to go to the bathroom and the fluid that had been slowly tricking out all day gushed down my leg, making me ever so thankful I had chosen to wear black pants.

Several hours later, delirious from exhaustion and in the last stages of hard labor, I stood in the shower allowing warm water to fall on my low back. I knew that I had two choices: resist the pain and fight against it or breathe and let it flow through me. As I stood in the small tiled square swaying from side to side, I rested my eyelids and breathed the mantra "Let go, Let God." A feeling of calm fell over me and though the pain was monstrous, I felt at peace. Moments after I left the shower my family begged the midwives to check my progress and I was told to start pushing. Minutes shy of an hour later, my exquisite Tallulah emerged, healthy and alert.

She was born on June 4 at 4:56 am after 9 months of emotional turmoil, pain, and nausea to name a few. I experienced 10 hours of labor, 7 of which were the worst pain I have ever faced, with no drugs at a small non-profit clinic in a spotty neighborhood of San Miguel de Allende. I was accompanied by 3 midwives, 2 who spoke little to no English, but were so supportive, endearing, and involved that it transcended any need for language. 

In the few weeks since giving birth to Tallulah, my world has been turned upside down. Beside trying to recover from delivery and being awake most of the night, there is the added stress of the extensive Mexican laws preventing me from getting Tallulah's documents in a timely fashion, not having Keikai here to help and not knowing where he is, and an overall feeling of being totally lost. Through all of this my family has been helpful beyond description. Everyone has contributed much time and mind to me and I am tremendously grateful to have such a loving and giving family. Though having a newborn crying inconsolably most of the night can push you to the very edge of your sanity, when that baby ceases and looks up at you bleary-eyed and smiles, all of the feelings of frustration and exhaustion simply melt away.

Motherhood is not what I anticipated, but nothing ever is. Tallulah is more sweet and lovely than I could have ever imagined. Though I get unbearably restless at times, with the support of my family and the presence of my new love, I am reminded to slow down and let go. So many aspects of my life have changed and I am learning through my experience that instead of being attached to the way things used to be, I need to carve my way through new life chapters with an open mind and heart allowing time to heal, adjust, and enjoy the beautiful person I created.

Letting Go Part 1

For a year and a half I tried to hug his pain away. Each embrace facilitating the deterioration of my soul. I allowed and even enabled the crumbling of my spirit into the abyss of thoughtlessness that is his being. Always giving, getting nothing but hostility and passive aggression in return. Only concerned with his immediate pleasure, never caring to see the big picture. Hoarding everything, objectifying everything. The "I love you"s were bandages placed uselessly on all too serious wounds repeatedly opened and deepened by cruelty and apathy. His words mean nothing to me, come to think of it, they never have. There was always an underlying feeling of unease, all of the not-quite-truths waiting to be exposed.

I cried before our first date, at the time I wasn't sure why. After speaking with him about a meeting place, I succumb to gentle sobs in the drivers seat of my car. "This will never succeed," my intuition spoke to me. I didn't want to believe it, so I cried, gathered my composure, and met him at the state capital. After a half hour of laying on the roof of my car staring at the stars, he came walking briskly toward me, smiling, smelling of smoke and deodorant. Damp with sweat when he hugged me, I could feel the ribs of his frail figure, his heart beating quickly underneath them.

Nearly two years from the night he first penetrated my soul, our daughter emerged from the same point with more passion and light than any facet of our relationship ever possessed. She represents truth and strength, the opposite of him, of us. She came into the world surrounded by strong, intelligent, beautiful women with purpose, destined to become one herself. There is an old saying "A man dies, a child is born." In this case, a section of myself had to die to move successfully to a more positive direction. The part of me that panders and offers compassion to what can only be described as a lost cause and waist of my good intentions. Each favor offered is extended to capacity and ultimately regretted. I don't condone regret, nor do I enjoy feeling taken advantage of, which is why I must shed this piece of myself and move toward the life of manifested happiness and miracles my daughter and I rightly deserve.

If there is one thing pregnancy has taught me, it is that what is good is worth working for and what is right is not always easy. Though our relationship certainly had it's charms and perks, it was positively one-sided. It won't be easy, and it will certainly have it's complications, but letting go of this aberrant partnership is a necessary step toward rediscovering and redefining myself as a powerful woman; a mother.

...

(Un)knowing

Opening to the power of intention, you begin knowing that conception, birth, and death are all natural aspects of the energy field of creation. Clinging to attempts to think or reason your way to intention is futile. By banishing doubt and trusting your intuitive feelings, you clear a space for the power of intention to flow through. This may sound like hocus-pocus, but I prefer to think of it as emptying my mind and entering the heart of mystery. Here, I set aside rational thoughts and open to the magic and excitement of an illuminating new awareness.

-Dr. Wayne W. Dyer The Power of Intention

My bright pink and orange paisley bag is packed and sitting beneath the fireplace mocking me. Small spurts of energy devoted to nesting projects are divided by long periods of reading and resting. I feel sluggish and exhausted most of the time and to say that I am restless would be a gross understatement. To add to my anticipation, each member of my family systematically checks in on me, offering sounds of sympathy, labor induction remedies, and most commonly "when is she gonna come out?!" Though it is more than easy to give in to my feelings of frustration and lack of control, I am seeking a new direction.

Modern medicine has taken much of the mystery and reality out of the experience of pregnancy and childbearing. We get ultrasounds every step of the way to tell us our baby's size, position, estimated age, and sex. Women can ask to be induced and receive drugs to numb their bodies against one of the most elemental and miraculous occurrences one can have. As a culture, we have abandoned all of our trust in the unknown and subjected ourselves to numerous invasive tests all in the vain of knowing more than we are meant to.

While my demeanor in the last week has been edgy to say the least, I am doing my best to let go of my attachment to knowing. Thoughts of when and how Tallulah will come into my arms have infiltrated my mind, but I am seeing that the small amount of energy I possess is better spent exploring the positive aspects of my situation. Perhaps my prolonged pregnancy is one last lesson offered to me by the universe before I become a mother; the lesson that patience and trust are virtues of ultimate achievement. While I am 55 pounds larger than my usual self, experience constant fluctuation in temperature and mood, have trouble standing or sitting for extended periods of time, and am in the bathroom more often than any other room of the house, I can still see (with the help of deep breathing, spiritual reading, and my mom) the value in this period of limbo. If all else fails, I remind myself that I have waited 40 weeks for her arrival, a few more days simply isn't a bad bargain for the wonderful gift I am soon to receive.

Consciousness

We are entering the Age of Aquarius in 2012, November 11. It will be a new time. The entire psyche is changing...This Age you will all serve is the Age of Awareness, an Age of Experience. This transition to that Age began in the Piscean Age. The Piscean motto was: "I want to know. I need to learn." The Aquarian motto is: "I know. I want to experience." You will have to deliver experience to everyone. And you must deliver the experience to your self each day.

-Yogi Bhajan PhD, The Mind

In these last few days of pregnancy, feelings of anticipation and eagerness have enveloped me and every member of my family.  I can only imagine how much my life is going to change, irreversibly, in what could be a week or a matter of hours. While there is not a lot else that I can or wish to do, I have been reading and meditating many hours of the day. I am simultaneously devouring The Mind and Living the Good Life. Though very different in theme and principle, both books relate to the feelings of uncertainty and excitement drummed up by the expectation of Tallulah. They have also stimulated my thoughts about another highly anticipated venture, my family's exodus to an "off the grid" residence.

Living the Good Life, written by Scott and Helen Nearing, is an extremely detailed account of a fifty year old couple's move from New York to Vermont during the Great Depression. With little knowledge or experience in farming or building, they moved to the country motivated by their desire for spiritual peace and self-sufficiency. They ultimately built several spaces, taking obstacles as they came and allowing the Universe to provide them with the solutions they needed. They developed a system that almost completely detached them from the US economy, which was their initial goal.

Though we don't plan on hand churning our own cement like the Nearings, we do aspire to live sustainably, as disconnected from mainstream life and economy as possible. Though the location is yet to be determined, there are many prospects, and regardless of the whereabouts, the vision remains. Our house will be powered by solar panels and a wind turbine, have a water catchment system and chemical-free purification, use composting toilets, candle lit lanterns, and a stone oven. My mom, the driving force behind this project, has a relentless vision and I have found her enthusiasm to be contagious. 

The Mind is a book dictating several of Yogi Bhajan's lectures about the projections and facets of the human psyche. I cannot begin to describe the extensive theories this book contains, but one of the overlaying themes is the value and necessity of human consciousness. Though we have encountered many who say that the transition to an eco-friendly home will be too difficult, I am certain it is possible. The only prerequisite to this massive undertaking is a commitment from all participants  to consciousness. We must manage our consumption of resources; water, power, heat etc. We will plant and live off of several indigenous fruits and vegetables and trade with the surrounding farmers for products we don't wish to produce. We will all take part in maintaining the property, which, after visiting a solar powered home and speaking with its inhabitants, seems to entail a lot more work and knowledge than one would think. 

Though it won't be easy, with the exception of the birth of my daughter, I have never been so enthused about anything. I refer to this project as my mom's legacy, using her wisdom and fervor to provide for her family in a time when the length of resources is unknown. I am so proud I am able to be a part of this mission and contribute to creating a haven for my daughter in these times of economic and ecologic uncertainty. As I anticipate the birth of my daughter and the movement into the Aquarian Age, which many have declared the commencement of the apocalypse, I find equanimity in the belief that salvation can be found in a life lived consciously. I look forward to sharing these values with Tallulah and contributing to the creation of a being who will understand and live into the art of awareness.

We have not solved the problem of living. Far from it. But our experience convinces us that no family group possesing a normal share of vigor, energy, purpose, imagination and determination need continue to wear the yoke of a competitive, acquisitive, predatory culture. Unless vigilante mobs or the police interfere, the family can live with nature, make themselves a living that will preserve and enhance their efficiency, and give them leisure in which they can do their bit to make the world a better place.

- Living the Good Life