Posted by: scintillatingspeck | February 15, 2014

Gestation.

A shift is coming over me like a lengthening of daylight.  The rays reach a bit farther and brighter each day, into pockets and closets and around corners, lapping at the margins of awareness.

I’m learning to trust the gestation of my own becoming.  It’s incremental, sometimes dark maroon and murky, sometimes accompanied by heaving and exhaustion.  In the past few days and weeks I’ve felt more trepidation and unsteadiness than I thought I could stand.  Am I really going to give birth to this new chapter of my life? I wonder, staring at my own face and body, not pregnant with a literal baby, but filled instead with a similar mystery of creation.  How will it happen, and where, and with whom?  Do I get to have a birth plan? 

Ha.  Forget the birth plan.  There will be no attendants.  I get to do this all by myself.

I’ve been organizing in the house today, sorting and filing papers, tossing what isn’t needed, going through clothes, filling bags with items to give away.  It’s the sort of tidying that feels very much tied to a sense of impending change.  I also walked for miles in the snow, feeling the undeniable contours of something new and human and alive descending lower into the pelvis of my consciousness.

There is still more letting go to be done, not simply of objects, but of expectations, my stories about myself, and tethers to pain.

I won’t resist the wisdom of momentum.  I’ll keep going where my body brings me.

Northampton bike path

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