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The Stories we tell Ourselves

We believe things about ourselves, about others.

We divide life with labels good or bad. This and that.

We want happiness at all cost, which for the most part just brings suffering.

We want. We constantly want things to be different or to stay exactly the same.

But somewhere along life we need pause.

To pause and question every thought, every story we tell ourselves about the way life is.

We need to rewrite the script.

To throw away what no longer works. What keeps us stuck in a loop.

We owe it to the world. To pause. To see our lives from a different angle.

We owe it to ourselves. To pause what is barely ever paused and question.

An open ended questions without expecting answers.

 

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Nature

Do you think Birds doubt the way they are flying?

If they are going in the right direction?

If the Birds they are flying with are really there style?

Do you think Trees have a fear of dying?

And Mountains wonder if things will ever change?

Do you think Oceans sometimes want things to slow down just for a couple of days?

Or that Clouds feel anxiety waiting for the Rain?

Maybe our problem is that we think too much.

We doubt our power.

Overanalyze our past.

Focus our energy on the future.

And in the process, we forget our true nature.

Our inherent wholeness.

Nature teaches us everything we need to learn.

Maybe we should spend more time in our nature (body) and less in our heads (thoughts)

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No Conclusion

For months I have been writing unfinished blog posts.

Poems seem to be the only thing that can flow through my fingers.

Maybe because in a poem I don’t feel I need to come to a conclusion.

I like closing a blog posts with a humph

That they give people a sense of closure, a how to an aha moment

But my postpartum experience hasn’t come with closures or a how to.

It has arrived with as many shades of emotions as Bob Ross painting canvas.

I feel like I have walked through fire and some days even the heat from the sun can light me up.

I feel like I was inserted in a blender (the high power type) but somehow came out even though they are still pieces of me missing.

You get the point. It has been “roughly-beautiful”

Beautiful to find unconditional love not from as many people as I wished but from just enough to get me through and through.

Beautiful to move my meditation practice from a sitting position to a breastfeeding, walking, driving, diaper changing position.

Beautiful when I can turn my thoughts into white noise.

When I can see deep into a new mothers eye and say “it will get better”

Beautiful to have a mantra that I have repeated so many times its starting to sink in. Somedays its even true.

So no big conclusion on my end. Still working on those blog posts, on becoming a mother, on embracing every shade, on trusting the process as it unfolds……

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Birthing and Dying

Something died when I gave birth.

The illusion of having it together

Of being separate

The predictability of my life

The feeling of control over the future and the freedom of the present

In the death of an illusion I was stretched open

Space was created physically and metaphorically

Space for a dance between love and sadness, joy and anxiety all to co-exist in the same day

Space for old wounds to resurface

Beliefs that had been lingering deep down inside me

Space for healing and for a new depth of being

While I keep looking at uncertainty straight in the face

It’s not about the “old me” and the “new me”.

It’s about the death of an illusion before the next illusion arises

It’s about the hardest thing I have ever done in my life

Being completely broken open and the only antidote is kindness and presence

 

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40 Days of Paradox

Unmedicated Birth was raw, rough and yet grounded and beautiful.

I have felt love that could lift a car and sadness that could fill a river.

I’ve experienced pain through the same area of my body that had always given me pleasure.

I’ve lost track of time and yet keep checking the clock.

I’ve inhaled joy through the top of her head and gagged through her bottom.

I keep thinking there is nowhere I rather be and nobody I would rather be doing it with and yet some days all I can think about is when I will be able to leave.

I don’t feel like I lost anything but nothing feels the same.

My body weight is almost the same but my body is completely different.

Almost every night I have a nightmare of falling asleep while breastfeeding and not finding her and in the mornings I live the dream of watching her smile or cry….

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