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LOTUS BATH

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Dear reader, wherever you are, familiar or soon to be, I want to share some of who I am with you. With me. I am grasping in the lotus bath for my roots. I am sidestepping the dishwasher so that I may speak the truth.

I admit that I feel as though I have entered new territory, new crowds, new lands. I am not who I was before and yet I am forever still me. Who is this essential me? The blue eyed one who sat in the old wooden shed behind our house in the sun shower, warming her wet feet by the warmth of the dryer, stunned by the beauty of this golden light streaming through a cobweb. I am SHE and she is forever. I believe this was my awakening. My initiation into the mystery school of life. A school I am still learning to attend, to avoid skipping classes, remembering why I wanted to be here in the first place.

Much as happened since the last passage of my life here in the written world when I would write for hours into the New York night. Love drove me onwards, an unshakeable faith that what I was looking for was real because I could imagine it, and that once I found it, it would bring me home.

It has brought me home.

Strange how after wild adventures the comforts and familiarity of ‘home’ emanate an almost eerie silence. So simple and serene. My days biking erratically around New York, Chinatown, Greenwich and the East Village are done, at least for now. My days pacing the brown mud and grass of the Delaware river valley, meeting the deer and the stag and the opossum and the fox and the bear with the moon rising over the river with the salmonberries – they are also done, for now.

This last year has been wild and abrupt and completely confronting. Slung shot across space-time, I am now in California. And when I think about it, this place has called me for many years, just like New York. It has a completely different song, this land. The life of the desert is buried deep under ground, the animals just as ancient as those from the East, the rougher, sturdier, more robust plants rising up confident in their protection and strength – the cactus, the oak, the pine.

And it’s true that motherhood has changed me. I walk through my day differently, see differently, receive and give of myself differently. And yet I have ALWAYS yearned for this. I think becoming the ancient MA both softened and hardened me. I am less willful, more fluid, and yet a little closed and contained simply for the fact that my openings to implode with inspiration and emotion are narrow. Good. There is enough chaos in parenting as it is. (I admit I often yearn for that old drama, though.)

So what do I want to say now?

I want us to remember the limbs of cloud climbing across the neck of the mountain. The slant of the sun illuminating rock geometry embedded in the mountain. The yolk of the sun piercing our planet even as it falls towards the horizon. I want us to remember that we will not see all of this, someday. That perhaps we are not even seeing it today. I want us to remember that seeing is believing – you are alive, you exist, we are here together, you are not alone. In this lotus bath, these dish washing days, we are human. Can you believe it?


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