I have a tradition in my home, I relate the story of each of my children's birth to them on their birthday and I am quite sure they can give it over themselves quite well by now. Perhaps they can even recall an echo of memory, so often I have told them. Each time I tell it, it is as if I am birthing them again, I feel all the intensity of that love at first sight feeling. I did not intend this tradition, it simply came about, but over the years, I have realized why this was so very important to me to perform this ritual on their birthdays. It is because I do not know my own birth story. My birth mother left the planet when I was 5 months old. Because of this, I don't know much about my infancy or my childhood save for the mythology that has evolved over the years.
The anniversary of my own arrival is tomorrow and, perhaps because of the time of my life I am in, I feel very sad that no one will give over my story to me. No one will look into my eyes, tears welling up from the memory, heart overflowing with joy at the recollection of the happiness I brought them...or will they. As I meditated on this while writing my morning pages, I became overwhelmed with my own story. My story, told by me and a metaphor that like the Labyrinth, continually brings me back to myself.
It is dark but the darkness does not frighten me. I have been quite comfortable until now. Nourishment has been provided for me along with a steady, soothing heartbeat to lull me to sleep.
But now, now it seems I have outgrown my space.
I can barely move my arms or stretch my legs fully. Gone are the days I somersaulted in my watery home. It has gotten quite tight in here but I am content...until today.
Today the squeezing began. At first I did not mind it much, my home tightening it's walls around me, but I soon realized these were it's farewell embraces to me. Tighter and tighter they become and closer and more urgent they grow.
The descent begins and I feel myself spiraling downward, slowly at first. My head is being squeezed and my face is pressed and mushed. I feel uncomfortable and am not enjoying this dark journey. Time moves slowly and finally I begin to descend deeper still continuing down the spiral path into a tunnel impossible for me fit through. The intensity grows and I feel as if I may be finally crushed until I feel a coolness at the top of my head.
I wonder at the feeling, this unfamiliar sensation and have a moments rest to absorb what is happening. The tunnel tightens around me once again, feeling like a shove, a push urging me to leave my once comfortable home and forcing me down The Path. One more turn down the spiral and I emerge from the dark tunnel into blinding light!
After what feels like an eternity of flailing about in the confusion of the Light, warm arms hold me tightly and press me close. I listen closely and I hear a familiar drumming, a steady and comforting beat. I know this song although now it seems further away and I must strain to hear it. I take breaths and I begin to breathe in a scent that intoxicates me. My eyes struggle to focus but finally I see.
She is holding me and her smile assures me I right where I am supposed to me.
She is beautiful beyond compare.
She is Divine.
She is Mother.