"Igmu Tanka Chantay Weh", collage by Licia Berry 2007 copyright

I’m from the south…I was born in North Carolina and lived in the south most of my life.  I’d never been west as a child (the furthest I got was Little Rock, Arkansas, but that’s a story for another time.)  Oh, and we went on a family trip to Dallas, Texas.  But I never got DEEP west until 1990, when I took a fateful trip with my husband that felt like pure destiny.  I crossed the Mississippi and found a world that captured my heart.

As a young married couple, we were feeling the itch to get out from under our roots and see the world, seek our fortunes, find out who we were.  We felt that a move out west was the right direction, but I’d never been there, so off we went during my summer break (I was a public school art teacher at the time).  We traveled the southwest on a three week road trip with a lot of music, a camera and not very much money.  It was the best trip ever.

I remember the feeling the first time we got west of the center of Texas and I saw the full moon rise behind us as we sped through the dark across the open plains.  There was something about that giant sky and that wise open space that cracked my heart open.  We went all over New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and a bit into Utah.  We had multiple magical encounters on that trip; from outrageous coincidences to the awe inspired by the colors of the earth and the light, it was one head-over-heels experience after another.  We fell in love with Tucson, AZ and moved there two years later. 

We’ve lived in Tucson, Albuquerque NM and southern Colorado since…each time we have left the southwest to come back to the south (where we are now), but have boomeranged back, as if we are back to refill our cup with the magic that seems to live there.  I have been missing it again lately, which is what prompted me to write this post.

I was thinking about why I am overcome every so often with a feeling in my heart, a beckoning, as if the desert is calling my name on the wind, yet it is inside my chest.  I was wondering why the feeling I have when I feel the Sacred Feminine in my consciousness feels so similar to the feeling I have when I am in the wide open spaces, looking up at the giant blue sky and the mountains on the horizon.  There is a feeling of awe and quiet, a feeling of being so small in such a big place, a feeling of being held and nurtured, and a sense of ancient knowing.  It feels like Her.

Just a few days ago I realized that the desert is where I first consciously felt the Sacred Feminine.  And it is there that I have continued to deepen my relationship with Her.  Each time I have lived out west the ante gets higher; I am simultaneously driven to my knees and lifted up by Her magnificent presence, Her calling herself forward in me.

Maybe I come back to the south to bring what I’ve learned, a taste of the desert dream to this land that I come from and that holds so many hard memories of being a smart girl growing up in the bible belt.   And maybe I will go back to the sit at Her feet every so often and drink of Her wisdom.

"Motion", collage by Licia Berry 2010 copyright

A favorite poem, something to remind all of us how amazing we are…

“Invictus”

Out of the night that covers me,

A Self Love Ritual

If you’ve been looking for a way to create a new spark in your relationship with yourself, a love ritual might be just the idea for you! 

Try this exercise: light a candle in a quiet room where you won’t be interrupted.  Invite your highest aspects in to the ritual to assist you (whoever you feel they may be…use your words….highest teachers, masters, angels, Source, etc.) 

Read this passage excerpted from the bible, and while reading it, feel as if the words are written for you (they are).  Imagine you are reading this to yourself, who is sitting across the flame from you.  Feel the words go into your heart.

“Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.”
-I Corinthians 13:4-8

Can you allow yourself to feel this great love for you?  Are you open to the possibility that when these words were spoken by the master Jesus, that he was indeed speaking about loving yourself unconditionally? 

Notice the feelings that come up while you read this to your Beloved Self.  What beliefs do you hold about yourself that prevent you from experiencing this kind of love?  Write them down.  Then, in this ceremonial space, set the intention to release those beliefs.  Breathe deeply with each intention to seat it in your body.  You may even want to burn those pieces of paper with the old, outdated beliefs written on them.  Then, to replace those outdated beliefs, you can set intentions to:

*Love my self unconditionally

*Experience and embody the unconditional love that I truly am

*Allow the flow of unconditional love from Prime Source to flow through me and radiate outwards to all I come in contact with

*See myself as Angelic Consciousness and Prime Source see me, and Love myself as they love me

Close the Love Ritual by thanking your Beloved Self/Prime Source/ Angelic Consciousness/all of your helpers for guiding you.

“You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”

-Buddha

You are a miracle. You have within you incredible power and beauty. Your inner power and beauty give you the freedom to find success (however you define it), peace, love, self-confidence, and the joy of aliveness.  It is your birthright to experience life and its deepest satisfactions.

In making those choices every day to love ourselves as we would love our child or our tenderest lover, and taking action to do sweet things for ourselves, we literally change our reality.  We feel more at peace in the world, we attract more joyful opportunities and intersections, we draw more love into our lives, and life becomes the miracle it was intended to be (and it really is!)

“i found god in myself

& i loved her

i loved her fiercely.”

- Ntozake Shange

pricking the crusty scab over the wound in my heart…letting it bleed

I must…there is no alternative if I want to be an alive, pliable, feeling human being

a moment’s courage to stick the needle of my consciousness in

please, hold my hand, Greater Self

and it’s done.  see, it only hurt for a moment

~

ahhh, the relief of letting it flow

the cleansing tears, the exorcizing of little demons in the dark corners of my psyche

the ones that have held court, whispering lies into my ears,

stringing nets and springing traps

grabbed up by the rush of cleansing waters from the genuine soul

lifted by the torrent of feeling, they are exposed and expunged through the grand golden portal of my heart

poured out onto the stones at my feet where they flip and writhe

I feel awe and compassion as I watch them dissolve in the light of the sun

Mother One-The Sacred Feminine, collage by Licia Berry 2007

Last Thursday, I taught the first class in my inaugural “Faces of Her” teleseries.  With great hopes and expectations, and lots of sweat and labor, I birthed this offering amongst 10 women. 

It touched me in a different way to teach this class; it came from a more vulnerable place.  I’ve taught many teleclasses, classes and workshops in my professional teaching career of 21 years, but this one was different.  It came from the center of my heart, from the core of my being.

The journey to come to acceptance of my own inner Sacred Feminine has not been easy; I faced what all people face when they realize that there is more to our lives than what meets the eye.  I experienced what all folks experience when they open to more feminine ways of being, and allow that to guide them in their lives.  It’s no secret; it’s not the way our culture teaches us to live.  Feminine equals weak or stupid or value-less.  My decision to reject these ridiculous notions was nothing less than anarchy.

Learning to trust myself over all others has absolutely been a feminine journey.  Learning to listen quietly when my impulse is to demand answers has absolutely been a feminine journey.  Allowing myself to feel my feelings of sadness, anger, fear, grief and rage has been a feminine journey, too.  These are all things that are suppressed in our culture.  

But actually offering what I have learned to others…now THAT takes some ovaries (they’ve been making noises at me through out this process, by the way!)  Being pregnant with this information, then going through the labor to birth it, then presenting it Thursday night has been nothing short of a feminine miracle.  

I came into my room yesterday, where I have an altar to Great Mother, and upon entering the scent of jasmine incense wafted into my awareness.  I paused to look at the incense burner; nothing there.  I asked my husband and children if they had burned incense, and they said no, they thought I had been (they smelled it, too!)  This is the second time in several days this has happened to me; a mysterious scent of something that does not exist in the physical reality of the space has asserted itself.  I wonder if, like the scent of roses signifies the presence of the Divine Mother, of the scent of jasmine also portrays Her blessing?  

The choice to offer “Faces of Her” has begun its magic…I am already different, MORE than I was before the class.  In the decision to offer what I’ve learned to other women, I have opened some blessed door within myself, and She is working Her way with me!

A second class has been created due to popular demand!  Starts this Tuesday, Feb, 23 at 7pm eastern.  Join us!

Untitled Female Figure, Licia Berry, 1988, ink wash

It’s really true what they say, that if we are not aware of history we are doomed to repeat it.  We can see it on our world stage, we can see it in our relationships, and we can see it in how we become our parents if we have not done a significant amount of consciousness work.

Having internalized my father as the more positive role model of my two parents (if you know anything about my history with my father that may be jaw dropping to you!), I sought my way in the world with a dominant immature masculine energy as my primary lead.  I worked hard, I forced and pushed, I didn’t let myself feel much, I succeeded when I should have totally failed or died.  It was survival of the fittest; there was no room for getting soft or taking a breath or self care or soul care…none of that pansy stuff. 

That served me well enough to get through 5 years of full-time university and student teaching, all while making good grades and working enough jobs to pay the rent.  I had no help from my family and was living on my own in downtown Atlanta, a young girl with nothing to her name but a hand-me-down station wagon that stalled while driving and a scrappy attitude.

When I met my future husband, my survival was more assured.  He took me out to eat and I tore up a steak, threatening to spear his hand when he reached for something on my plate.  I had not eaten properly in 2 years, making due with one box of macaroni to last me a week, and mooching off of my wealthy roommate when she would let me.  Mostly I got through by just not allowing myself to think about food.  Keep moving, keep moving.  Besides, I was getting calories from the alcohol that folks would buy me at the dance club.     

It took some time to start to calm the wild beast who was fighting to survive within me.  Being in close proximity to Peter’s family (mine had been mostly out of the picture since I left home) induced a deep depression; those feelings I had been too resistant to give air time to finally had some room to come up to the surface.  I became a very uncomfortable FEELING creature.  I started therapy to learn why I was feeling the way I was, and began the long slow climb into consciousness and the light.    

The year that I was pregnant with my first son was when I began to consciously feel female.  I had been tough and together and sharp minded, but now I felt softer, squishier, joyful, less concerned with working hard to survive and more concerned with the baby growing inside of me.  I took wonderful care of my body, learned about organic foods and alternative ways of thinking.  This was when I started to see my inner nurturer come to the surface.  Somehow I knew how to treat myself as more precious.  This was such a great gift; it was truly the first time I can remember feeling feminine in an authentically powerful way.

My second pregnancy drew me ever more into the feminine, but the wild, deep, dark feminine.  I craved tribal music and walked in the woods and the mud.  I talked to the trees and the wind and the earth, feeling the eyes of nature on me as I moved through the world.  I carried sticks and rocks as talismans, weighing down my pockets with precious bits of ground that seemed to want to walk with me.  It was as if I were a child again, but a powerful, pregnant woman-child, innocent and knowing at the same time.  I found myself drawn to women in Asheville who taught me about birth being a natural process that my body knew how to do.  It was the beginning of learning to trust myself and my body as way-showers.

It was during this time I first heard the word Goddess, at least consciously.  I didn’t like it much; “Goddess” evoked images of hippie women in long skirts with wild hair and flowers in their teeth.  It evoked witches and feminists and crazed, alternative thinkers.  Even though I was coming into my feminine self in a powerful way, I was way too practical (read fearful) to embrace the “goddess”.  I experienced the Divine as something more abstract, a combination of feelings and love and creation and evolution.  I wasn’t going to worship anything.  I didn’t believe in a dude in the sky as my god, why would I believe in a woman in a skirt as my goddess? 

But my feet were firmly on the path of embracing Her, whether I saw her as a figurehead or not.  My internal knowing was taking me deep into Her, and what I discovered was that She was inside of me, in my body and heart and belly.  She wasn’t outside, wanting to be worshiped.  She was part of me. 

(to be continued)

Mother Five-Me, collage by Licia Berry, 2008

An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.  ~Spanish Proverb

I thought I might open the window into my process a bit today by sharing with you my recognition that I needed a Mother in my life, and how that led me to the Sacred Feminine.

My biological mother was a physically beautiful, petite, perceptive woman with sharp eyes.  My early memories of her indicate a very young person who didn’t really know quite how to be a mother, as she was just a child herself (she was 18 when I was born).  She did what I suppose she thought she should do; her own relationship with her mother was not an easy one, and so mothering did not come so naturally.  When I try to feel her in my early life, I don’t feel much there.  There are shadows, a presence around a corner or in the other room.  It is as if there was an empty space where she should be. 

I do remember some times when she would sit and color with me, which I enjoyed.  It made me feel closer to her, and I felt the presence of her own inner little girl sitting with me at the table as we chose our crayons.  There was some innocence still in her.  We were equals, two young girls at play. 

But I don’t remember feeling the safety of a loving wise elder, a guiding hand.  I don’t remember feeling loved in the sense of being seen and accepted for who I was.  My mother speaks of loving me in the same breath as cherishing me like a doll that she dressed up in special clothes.

As I came into my 5^th year, I think I started to understand how warped things were in my family; my kindergarten picture shows a jaded and angry exterior.  But I still hoped for her to see me, to love me.  I watched her beauty and wanted to be like her, although I never was.  Her thin, dark allure matched the image that was on the tv and in the magazines.  So this was how to be a woman.

Things got crazier in my house when we moved to a rural house in the country outside of Goldsboro.  I think that’s when the drinking started to get out of hand.  Perhaps there wasn’t much else to do there.  My father would go to work each day, and my mother would put her long tresses in pigtails and work on the garden, deepening her already nut brown skin.  As she tended the squash, cucumbers and tomatoes, my sister and I would play outside with the neighbor girls, chasing their chickens or running in the tobacco field behind the house.  Perhaps the drinking was to fill a loneliness, or to assuage her fears that my father might be sleeping with other women (if my information is correct, this is indeed when he started to dally outside of the marriage).  Whatever the reason, this is when I remember having a conscious sense of losing my mother.

I was 7.  I remember having a vision of her, the sweet if unskilled mother in her pigtails, being seized by some aliens (I must have seen some sci-fi movie on the telly).  Her face is frightened; she is being taken away against her will.  She is then shrunk to the size of a Barbie doll, and flushed down the toilet in my parent’s bathroom.  In her place, an evil alien with a carefully arranged face of my mother steps in to our family.      

This is where I start to feel my mother is my enemy.  She was judging and critical of my body, my thoughts, my mind.  I remember feeling afraid of her barbs, stepping delicately around her anger (until I was much older and able to argue with her).  My parents would drink to excess, almost every if not every night.  When I had to get ready for school in the morning, she would sometimes still be passed out in the bed.  Sometimes this worked out in my favor; once I wore a slinky dress I’d found that was inappropriate for my age (I was 9), but made me feel like those playboy girls in my father’s magazines.  When the bus dropped me off at home that day, she was livid when she saw what I was wearing.  I don’t believe I ever wore that dress again.

Mother Three-Sheila, collage by Licia Berry 2006

Time went on; it became apparent that I was the reason for all of my mother’s anger because it was always me that got the blame.  Not one to step into her own inner wisdom, as she continued to stay with this man who sexually abused me, her and other women, she lashed out at me in her own frustration and despair.  Alternately pulling the “I’m the mother, I don’t owe you an explanation” with crying desperately and asking me for advice (“Licia, You’re so wise), I was a very confused adult child.  Needless to say, all of the surviving I did until I left home to go to school got in the way of cultivating peace within myself, and recognition of my own inner feminine.    

Years of therapy, inner work and education helped me to see that what happened to me as a child was not my fault, that there were familial patterns my mother played out, and for whatever reasons, she did not have the strength that I had to break those cycles and claim her life as her own.  Years before I had children, I decided that I would choose not to have any rather than pass on the sickness that was passed on to me.  Being awake in the face of folks who don’t want to be is a hard choice; there are consequences, such as being rejected and losing folks you very much want to have in your life.  To this day, she cannot go there with me.     

This forced me to look elsewhere for mothering.  Sometimes in the form of women who wanted my power, sometimes in the form of women who just gravitated towards me, sometimes in the form of women who projected their own mother issues onto me.  And I projected my share of mother issues, too.  Some very messy relationships with women ensued over my years.  I realized I didn’t know how to be in healthy relationships with women; my mother was my model, and she was distant, manipulative, angry and unconscious, all with a pretty face.  I did not want to play that out any longer in my life.  Finally, desperate for a mother, I turned inward.

(to be continued)

"Woman as Stone-She is Awakening" collage 2006 by Licia Berry

Dear Women!

What a year it has been, and it’s only early February! Many of us have felt both the exhilaration of the new year energy and deep intensity as the purging and transformation of our consciousness continues.

It’s only 10 days until my teleclass “Faces of Her: an educational and experiential exploration of the Sacred Feminine Within” begins on Thursday Feb. 18th.

If you are anything like me or the rest of the folks I am hearing from lately, you will understand that the old way of the world is not working any more. Many of us can feel internally that a new era is beginning.

What is happening? Why do so many of us have an inner knowing that the world is changing? What can we do to midwife a smooth rebirth? These questions and more will be explored in my “Faces of Her” teleclass.

If you FEEL and nod your head to the writings of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, if you DIG the art of Frida Kahlo, if Starhawk’s sweet words whisper into your very heart, if Jean Shinoda Bolen makes you want to jump up and create a women’s circle, if you admire and say YES to any strong, wise woman you hear speak her truth…then you will want to register for this 3-part class starting Thursday, Feb. 18th.

These women are shining examples of having integrated the Sacred Feminine qualities with their inner masculine qualities (the qualities in ourselves we are all taught to live from in western culture). Can you imagine if all of us brought the fullness and balance of the Sacred Union of the feminine and masculine to this world?

This teleclass will show you how by exploring:
• What is the “Sacred Feminine”?

• What is the “Light/Solar Mother”?

• What is the “Dark/Lunar Mother”?

• How do these universal energies show up in our lives?

• How is the Sacred Feminine already within me? How do I recognize Her?

• How can our lives be richer, more magical, and more alive by consciously experiencing these universal energies?

• How can I cultivate a relationship with the Sacred Feminine in my own life?

• Why is the embodiment of the Sacred Feminine important to our continuation as a species?

This class is designed to be appealing to the heart as well as the head, to be full of interesting information as well as an invitation into personal experience of the Sacred Feminine Within.

Personal experiences of the Sacred Feminine Within will be encouraged, inspired, and supported with images, story, poetry, meditations and exercises as well as educational material. You will leave each session FULL and looking forward to MORE.

This tele-class takes place on the phone in the comfort of your own home-you can wear your pajamas and fuzzy slippers!

Join me in this enlivening new/old experience! Choose now to step into your role in this amazing time of rebirth!
Come Home to Mama!

Register here!
http://www.liciaberry.com/Faces%20of%20Her.htm

Can’t wait to talk with you!
Licia Berry
Faces of Her
Creator of the Circle of WiseWomen (FaceBook women’s group)

First published May 12-2009-

(February 4, 2010-I re-publish this piece I wrote last year now as it comes to my attention again and again that we can do horrible things to each other or buy in to outrageous belief systems because we are not connected to our feelings….it is our feelings that guide us, provide feedback to us about whether we are following a moral compass, let us know if we are off track. 

Case in point: the incredible lack of feeling response demonstrated by James Arthur Ray, wealth advocate and teacher, who said in an interview 2 years ago that the Holocaust “was a good thing”, after people were traumatized (and some even died) at an event he held in Sedona AZ in October 2009 .  He was arrested yesterday, and the outpouring of feeling from the public shows that this is an important thing to look at.   http://abcnews.go.com/gma/video/spiritual-guru-arrested-sweat-lodge-deaths-9744388&tab=9482931&section=1206825

I have long said that the worship of the mind, intellect and thought as king is a very imbalanced masculine quality playing out in our world.   Feeling requires us to be present in our human, fragile, animal bodies, and to find a way to courageously live with that temporary, precious nature that our physical existence has.  Feeling requires honesty, that we feel the hard stuff as well as the easy stuff.  Repression of feeling is denying our physical existence, wanting to run away or escape, wishing it were different than it is.  It could be said that feeling is a feminine quality, if we look at it as a “being still, accepting and receiving” practice.  Perhaps if we were to balance our minds with our feelings, our world would not be in the state that it is in today.)     

Published on liciaberry.com and Face Book under notes

I write this today in response to an email that I received in which a woman friend is processing feelings and looking for some answers.  She is not alone!  I include partial transcript from that email, as well as more thoughts to offer.

I know a whole lot of folks who are feeling emotions right now….and I think this is GOOD.  I am told that the “return” of the feminine looks like folks FEELING their feelings, not just talking about them or conceptualizing them or thinking “positive thoughts”.  Feeling is not logical in any way…it is the right side of the brain, it is the feminine way, it is the antithesis of putting things in a box so we can understand them.  It is soft, animal, messy, uncontrollable, heart, soul, dreams, and water….it is the balance of the way humanity has been living for 5000 years. 

I FEEL and am told that feeling is the next frontier in human consciousness and expansion/evolution.  I think the women will be leading the way to learn how to BE this feeling state that we are entering…at least the women who have not internalized patriarchy so much that they are “men in skirts”!  We will have to allow this feeling to BE us, then we will teach others, and then the world will truly change to that balanced state so many of us feel coming.

We are meant to feel…this is part of our design as human beings.  We have physical, mental, spiritual and EMOTIONAL capacities, all of which serve a purpose and have a very important function towards our being fully human. 

My experience shows me that the problems come in when we judge ourselves for what we are feeling, or that we are feeling at all. 

Once a woman called in to my radio show…she was a “Law of Attraction”-inspired coach in her day job, but she was calling in seeking some answers for a traumatic event in her life; her son committed suicide.  She was driving her self crazy trying to cope with this incredible, unnamable loss by “thinking positive thoughts” and looking for “spiritual” answers about it.  What I offered to her was swift and clear: “Honey, you need to allow yourself to grieve.”  She broke down on the air, and wrote to me several months later that the permission to FEEL that I had given her changed her life. 

If you are finding yourselves in tears more frequently lately or feeling a little chaotic on your insides, maybe even angry or depressed, I would offer to you not to think you are going crazy or that there is something wrong with you. 

I say all this to reflect to you that I FEEL you are right on track….and that I echo your experience of feelings being a very important expression of my humanity right now.  I am finding healing, understanding, self acceptance and incredible love as a result of my allowing myself to feel without judgment or conception…just FEELING.  And when I allow the feelings, no matter how uncomfortable or painful to move through me, I come out the other side wiser, cleansed, and feeling whole.  I’m so grateful!!!

First published on http://www.liciaberry.com   in May 2009

Copyright Licia Berry 2009

Jess in SLO 11-2008

Today my first born turns 16. 

 I naturally ruminate on the events that led up to this day, the anniversary of his birth.  It was a hard day that revealed a lot about both of our most basic traits.

 My pregnancy was flawless…I LOVED being pregnant.  I felt powerful and sexy, the embodiment of Great Mother.  I had none of the issues that many pregnant women do, as if my body was doing what it did best.  As if I was built to make babies (if you saw my hips you would agree!)

I fretted about what to name this baby boy that was coming down the pike.  We discussed some names, but I wanted to be sure to pick the “right one”. 

One night I had a dream that I was with a grown boy, maybe about the age Jess is now.  He was sitting at a white kitchen table in a white kitchen, and I was standing and talking with him.  He looked exactly like Jess does now, with the exception of having very blue eyes instead of the green eyes Jess actually does have.  In the dream, I asked him about his names.  Do you like this one, do you like that one?  He would shake his head at each choice.  When I finally asked if he liked the name “Jess”, he shrugged, and I took that to mean it was the best of the choices we’d presented.  I woke up knowing his name.

As I got closer and closer to Jess’ due date, I wondered how I would get this giant child out of my body.  He was a big baby (I seem to grow big babies); at almost 10 pounds, my doctor was concerned that we would have to go the C-section route if he didn’t hurry it along.  I didn’t know any better, not having given birth before, and not having any mothering influences around to remind me to trust my body’s knowing.

As the due date came and went, I puzzled over why this baby wasn’t coming.  Was it up to the baby to decide?  Was it up to my body?  Was it a dance between the baby, my body, and something larger that made the decision as to his arrival? 

 My doctor gave me an ultimatum.  We would wait no longer than two weeks after the due date, or risk having surgery to bring Jess into the world.  We scheduled a date “just in case”.  I asked a woman I worked with about how to choose a date, and she told me that more animals are born before a full moon than after, so I chose to schedule his birth the night before the full moon.  Those two weeks I prayed a lot.  Please come, Jess.  Let him go, body.  But to no avail.

The morning of his scheduled birth, I was so scared and sad.  Scared because I had no idea what to expect and sad because I felt my body had somehow betrayed me.  It hadn’t allowed the birth process to happen as it was supposed to.  My body wasn’t letting this child go…it wasn’t releasing him into the world.  That was a big clue for me much later in my life about my core emotional wound…the world is not safe.

The birth itself was long and hard.  Pitocin to rush things along, and an epidural to keep me from losing my mind during the birth of an almost 10 pound baby.  I have since learned an immense amount about the often unnecessary “medical menu” experience; my second son was born at home in the water with a midwife.  But that’s another story.   After labor pains of 9 hours or so, I pushed for 2 hours, lost a lot of blood, and Peter thought both I and Jess were going to die.  I felt as if there were two of me; the one that wanted this baby out of my body and the one that was hanging on to him as if life depended on it.

Eventually, the me that wanted him out won by a slight margin.  I remember the moment; the doctor said Jess was in distress…this remarkable baby had been moving his head in an effort to help the move down the birth canal, but he was weakening.  He was stuck and losing strength.  I had been bleeding and pushing for 2 hours, exhausted and freaked out because I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.  The room was filling up with varied medical professionals, and a room for surgery had been prepared.  I thought I couldn’t do any more.  But when I heard her making noises that intimated that he may not make it, something bigger than the me that wanted to keep him safely in my body took over, and I pushed with a strength that came from Source itself.  I was no longer in the room; I was the big bang.  Suddenly I exploded and gave birth to the universe.  And Jess was born.   

He was blue and limp, needing oxygen for a couple of minutes.  His poor little head was shaped like a cone from being in between my pelvic bones for so long.  But he lived. Thank god for his determination.

My body was torn to shreds physically; the inner conflict I’d experienced left me exhausted and ripped open emotionally.  My most basic fear had been exposed, the scab of an old, but very alive wound, ripped right off.  The pulsating well of grief and fear within that was subsequently exposed took me down a rabbit hole of two years of post partum depression, and the re-emergence of my spirit back into my life.  And healing.

So, in a very real way, this beautiful boy who turns 16 today saved my life.  He is a teacher to me every day; wise beyond his years and with seeming nerves of steel, he has a tender heart and genuine caring for all humanity.  When he decides to do something, he does it with mastery.  I am amazed sometimes at the ease with which he moves through the world.

But it was his entrance into the world through my body that taught me one of my most precious lessons. No matter what our fears and doubts, no matter what wounds may seize us up and make us try to prevent flow, life wins.