Friday, March 30, 2012

Fear is real, So are treasures

For both Max Ka'hanu Bumblebee Heintz's Birthday and Re-birthday I have been in desert landscapes with huge rocks. This morning I drank my cup of coffee on a great big orange stone sofa next to a juniper bush full of bumble bees in Joshua Tree National Park. One sting will kill me. Instead of moving away,  I just lay next to them. There is nothing to run from or toward.  Just this. Just this. Just this.  In my hands The Tibetan Book of the Dead and right there on page 39 is Rilke, “Our deepest fears are like dragons guarding our deepest treasure”. Yes. This path can be a tight rope of reckless and fearless. Reckless would be stepping into the juniper. Waking sleeping dragons is not my work.   I am interested in the fear that guards the treasure, and for that I am a student of the dragon slayer. My greatest fear as a mother was loosing my child.  One year ago today I held my son as he left his body.  Fear is real, so are treasures.   None of us stay. Some of us stay longer. My experience is that while we are here,  we are here to love.  I am bias. I am Max’s mom, but the amount of love that poured through his eight days is jackpot style.  What one year has done is reveal where all that gold has been scattered, planted, transformed and transcended.  Thank you for sharing your golden sprinkle Max stories with me.
I have been in ceremony for a full year. For many months there was a deep sense of urgency to gather all of the treasures Max was offering. I would pull all nighters downloading his teachings, afraid that I was going to miss something. I believe it was my way of transferring the neglect that accompanies the loss of your children.  By the way... this is one of the reasons there is such a charge around TIME for grieving parents.  More "time" equates to more abandonment. Of course your children are in the realms beyond time and space where abandonment is impossible. But this is not totally obvious at first. The umbilical chord is still pulsating. Not only is the veil thin, my experience is that it barely exists. Max was right there. The only thing that scared me was him leaving again. I am now anchored in that impossibility. At this one year mark, what I realize is that I have been growing wild fig tree roots. The madness of my willingness to stay totally in it has grounded me so deeply in his teachings it would be like being afraid of the fig tree bearing tangerines. Impossible.  Max only stayed up with me all night because I needed to stay up all night. He does not need me. He likes my company. I am his student, and like any great Guru what is being offered is the transformative quality of a relationship with our own heart. It is my journey.   This has been one of the most difficult pieces. Max loves me. He uses me as one vehicle to share his teaching. He has many vehicles. But he does not need me. He is pure LOVE.  Love does not need.

I remember at times wishing I could be in relationship with my dead baby instead of my Heart Teacher that I was a vagina portal for. I was wearing a red Angels baseball hat when I realized that was never going to be the case. The former more devastating but more finite and less work. I could have chosen that path. There are really great books for that path. That path usually looks like this: "denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance".  That path just never resonated. My path is one of studentship to my own heart.  I am lucky. I have a teacher. We each have a unique path to that place. We make offerings and meet extraordinary teachers along the way. Max left for me to go the next level of the heart.  For me the question has never been “why”.  The question has always been “what now?”. So this afternoon we went for a walk in that big Mojave Desert with those peculiar spiky, twisted Joshua Trees and those huge monzogranite jungle gyms and here is what the earth shared when I asked “what now?” “Heather, Small human amongst these big rocks.  Even these small hidden rocks have big patience. So small human be in the big patience. Be in the big beauty. Keep walking the path.”

Thursday, March 15, 2012

You do not bury Placentas... YOU PLANT THEM

me following in the footsteps of warriors

On Saturday, March 3 four warrior women made another offering of their love to plant Max's placenta with me. It has almost been a year. The umbilical chord was so full of life it was nearly pulsating. The rich smell of fresh blood and the crimson color that is women was mesmerizing.  I gave birth. I gave birth. Max is such a great big Being that sometimes I loose track that he actually came through me. I did give birth to him and his placenta. I have held both.

The below is my experience of how warriors serve a mother when she says it is time to bury the placenta of her deceased baby. Here it is.

 you load up your warm clothes and get in the car with her.
 you trust her instinct that she knows exactly where to go.
 you hike to the top of a mountain.
 you nearly fall off the side of that mountain following her to the perfect Koa tree.
 you get down on your knees and dig in the dirt with her.
 you rub the earth all over your body.
 you examine the placenta with such precision that you actually feel the flesh that held her son in her uterus.   you place it in the earth with a song.
 you let your tears roll down your cheeks and nourish the offering
 you smile when the mother says "you do not bury your baby's placenta YOU PLANT IT. I can feel the earth breathing"
 you look her straight in the eyes when she tells you "something in my cells has shifted... it is a feeling of re-birth."
 you look up at the sky and feel your own heart lift to meet Max.
 you share with her your own experience of what you fear most and then share how you love more radically because of it
you walk down the backside of the mountain not saying anything but holding hands in the sunshine
you place your hands on your own pregnant belly and know that nothing is certain, that life will moves through us, and as mothers and all we can really do is love our children
you drive back down from the mountaintop knowing that life will never be the same and yet we love the ordinary... the magical ordinary

This is the path of the warrior... let them see it in the way we walk

walk on through, again and again, blood may be planted for beauty to bloom, get the earth all over you, walk through

all love