Reflections after birth

Witnessing a force of nature, a natural phenomenon run its course - a thunderstorm, a blizzard, a hurricane - is riveting, exhilarating, humbling. It returns us to our core, connects us to the deeper pulse that courses through our universe, the underlying texture of our existence. It reminds us what is big and what is small, what makes meaning, our transience, and the grace by which we live. From the subtle rise and fall of the chest with the breath to the fury of crashing ocean waters: witnessing these things connects us to the Source.

To witness physiologic, undisturbed birth is this, too. A sense of slow, steady, progressive disconnect from this world and descent into another - ceasing to speak, ceasing to look, turning in. The rhythm, the beat, the volume - increasing steadily; the noises - from deep in the resonant belly of the pregnant, rounded body - the power of birth plays this body like an instrument; as if the Gd/dess themself breathes and moans in the resonant note of the walls of this world. The body and the heart are pushed to their edge - rent open, wrought, like clay in the hands of the Maker. The coursing, rippling, sheer power. The surrender. The strength. The flow.

And then, emerging from the gates to another world - a human.

All eyes are on this woman. This is a ceremony. There is silence. We kneel before her. "A goddess?" we wonder. "Who bestowed a human with these divine powers?"

Image credit: https://nurturingourwildness.wordpress.com/blessing-way-ce…/