Creating Life - Body and Mind - (A look into my journal)

It's been a while. Over 10 days since I've written. I've got less than 8 weeks until our due date, still so surreal these shifts and movements inside me. A child. I'm still not grounded to it.

I've read and chanted and thought and written and meditated on releasing to the new experiences to come but maybe my door is already wide open to the sachets of life, to the turbulence and changes it has planned for me. I'm open and accepting of change, of letting the old me go and embracing the new and then waving fondly goodbye when that new becomes old, just as the seasons move undoubtedly forward. It's like I've practiced my whole 30 years for this. I'm comfortable with change, with forward movement, with new things that develop out of old.

New for now but connected to the past. I look at the weaving beside me. I recognize my own wisdom in the simple pattern. Sure, I read and studied the ways others approached the experience and then I had the confidence to take the techniques I have learned and apply them in my own way, creating something new and different, my own. It's what I'm good at. One of the things.

Approaching something brand new to me and making it mine. I imagine labor will be the same. I've educated myself on it. Meditated on techniques I can use and how it might feel in the moment. I've rarely anticipated something so much. Prepared myself for something with it's own deadline. usually I can't wait and choose to start a project at my own time. But here it's not particularly my choice. I can't set the scene myself and say, "Alright, let's begin." No it comes at it's own pace, at it's own time, like the full moon or the equinox but it's clock is more elusive than that.

I suppose I'm impatient of time right now. My body big and awkward and incapable of my normal whirlwind. Tired and sore with the feeling like it's been kept in a box and needs to stretch and feel used. It feels a lot like when i felt so weak after kidney surgery and i had to take it easy and spend time healing, being slow and methodical and allowing my body to rest whole my mind was still keen and alert and ready to pounce on new plans and ideas, actions and change and projects.

I feel quiet confident that my mind is stronger than my body. My body is a beautiful little vessel. Capable in so many ways. It functions beautifully too. I'm lucky to have it, I think as I look at my hands, so familiar, think of the smooth curves of my skin and the healthy tick of my heart and the glisten and glow of my hair like gold in the stream of autumn sunlight.

It is a strong healthy vessel but it is small when compared to my mind. Incapable of all the tasks I can conjour for it to labor over. No, it causes me to balance, to stop and care for it's aches and pains, tired moments, to heal it's wounds, spend time mending it, treating it well, feeding it well so that it can keep up as well as it can and as long as it can with the dreams of my incessant mind.

Like a worn out pair of clothes it will not last forever. It's the nature of us. But for now I trust it. I know that it is strong and capable and has that grounded earthly knowledge, that magic connection to the all that is. Disconnected from my thinking mind, doing something as complicated as constructing new life, building an insanely complicated puzzle based off a helixed set of codes that my mind can't begin to piece together and yet my body as if some entity separated from my own does this work and will, paired with my mind, bring its tiny masterpiece into this world to live and breath with us.

Do I trust this beautiful masterpiece that is my own arms and legs, head and torso to finish the construction it has started and bring it out for all to see. How could I not? Look at the images of head and hands and feet and hair that it's created in a seemingly separate world. All my mind has to do is hold on tight, relax, and not fear the ride.

What absolute magic.

---A journal entry I felt obliged to share---
--Images sourced from Stocksnap.io--