On Friday, I heard you. I opened my lips and there you were: the old you, the whole you, speaking softly, sweetly. Harboring healing words within your mouth. I saw you dancing, and you were beautiful, and I knew that you had been within me all along.
I am getting better.
Hands on the wheel, breathing in the hints of springtime as they moved from one window to the other - honeysuckle, almond blossom, cut grass, wet pavement - I remembered something I learned at the Ashram:
When you realize that everything IS you, you cannot possibly hate, or harm, or feel less love for one thing, or the other, because to do so would mean also hating yourself, harming yourself, loving yourself less.
Piece by piece, I am waking up.
On Saturday, we bundled our family in maroon and gold and set up a booth at the local Celtic Faire. We registered, and parked, and while KC unfolded the stroller and counted wooden swords on two hands, I unclipped the glovebox, flicked a lighter, inhaled. Just once. Rosemary sweet; slow moving smoke.
It was the first time we had danced since Aspen was born. And right away, I experienced a remarkable clarity - worry and anxiety and phobia were turned off, as if by a light switch fixed the to the side of my heart. On, off. Darkness, and light. So much light!
I could see her clearly, and she was beautiful. My daughter, all pink cheeks and scraped-knees. There was no fear fogging my eyes. I embraced all of her, and of him, my son. I was happy for the first time. Maybe the very first time - the first clarity since motherhood began.
With fickle fear flayed like a layer on an onion, I found a new layer, just below: the fear of losing my Ego. I was equal parts relieved by the lack of worry, and frightened by it. Who was I, if not the woman with the lump in her chest? What a wild emotion! I realized in that moment how attached to my own anxiety I am. Living without it is so uncomfortable - like losing a dear and terrible friend. I have been stumbling around, not realizing just how drunk and addicted to subconscious toxicity I truly am.
I am getting better.
We walked down a hill and through a gate and placed the swords in rows along a table. I held Finn tightly against my chest and Aspen said, "Mama, find me!" She hid behind a fold of the canopy and I pretended to be a mighty hunter.
Eyes soft, heart free.
I am medicating carefully, delicately, dancing with the very first version of myself. I can hear her leaning in, closer, gently, holding me.