I left everything familiar to be in this land of passage in the Owen's Valley with people who are ferrying me in a way to this shore of serving women who have lost or will loose their children. I have been living in a place of solitude, service and watering. I am a walking practice of keeping everything alive. It is that simple, what I water lives, what I don't water dies...and yet and yet.
The bats have arrived and each evening as the sun drops behind the Sierra Nevadas they put on the most spectacular ballet above the pond. We pull up two lawn chairs, put on hoodies and recline as they swoop right past our faces... incredible. Bat medicine is re-birth. I am a walking practice of that too.
Big things don't happen because we are playing small. Big things happen because we are being asked to grow bigger. And when time moves those big things into a place of past, it is still past-now and an invitation not to leave them behind but to make offerings to their death so that we can re-birth them. The prefix "re" means with respect to, with reference to, in connection with. To re-birth is to mark my commitment to how the past is emerging through me now. So as my friend Ivy Ross Ricci so eloquently shares I am able to continually "serve with my story" as I am connected to it now.
It is Mother's Day today. Whether or not we have had children or lost children all of us mother. All of us have cared deeply for things that we have lost and have stories. May today be a day of re-birth for all of us. A day that offers us the vision of potency and power that has awakened our heart's longing to be and stay connected to this way of caring and mothering life.
Mother's Day and Master P asks, "Heintz, do you think Max misses you?"
My response. "i think so, who doesn't miss their mom"
