Eclectic Muddlehood

How's this for a perplexing beginning? I am a great many things, but none of them are me. At least not in my entirety. This is the little corner where I attempt to make the whole greater than the sum of its parts as I muddle through being a wife, a mother and a woman... among other things.

Name:
Location: Virginia, United States

Here, in no particular order, is a short list of my parts from the mundane to the pretentious, some or all of which may surface in future attempts to work on the whole: wife, mother, doula, childbirth educator, writer, yoga student, homeschooler, amature organic gardner, kitchen witch, all-around foodie, spiritual truth-seeker, daughter, clutter-bug, complusive list maker, bibliophile, homemaker, friend, homebirth/natural birth advocate, impulse shopper, wine snob, knitter, artist, lover, sensuist, and email junkie (There may be more later, but that's it for now.)

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Waxing About Waning

I believe in the power of the waning moon, she who heralds times of greatest transformation through the dark passages from one state of being to the next. These precious opportunities to begin anew, changed forever from the edges of our souls to the depths of our hearts, yet still filled with the same essence of being we have always held are manifested in the unique beauty of the waning and new moons. Although the full moon has traditionally been associated with the peak of fertility, pregnancy and impending birth, it is typically the new moon that calls my being to cross such personal thresholds. As she wanes, I am forced to focus on the particular threshold of transformation that stands directly before me now. This dark passageway filled with as yet undiscovered trials holds promises to bring me from pregnant to birthing, from mother of one to mother of three, from tested to proven and possibly (as it has seemed to me on the more difficult days of this pregnancy) from lost to found. The new moon of the Summer Solstice approaches with every passing minute and I can practically taste her power and potential in the heady evening air. The cells of my heavily laden body and the wisps of my harvest-ready soul sing a bittersweet duet as I reach deep within myself to coerce my left foot in front of my right, in front of my left making my way through the last hours and days of this amazing and amazingly challenging pregnancy. May I step bravely, passionately and with love across her threshold.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home