birthing

word up,

with the ::techno wonder boy:: back from india, we are finally back up and running online in the mullingson commune... at last! so, what comes next is a couple of heartfelt postings i would have made live last week if i had been technologically able and then we'll be back to today and see where this day finds my heart... this is likely therefore gonna be jumping through a range of emotions and tones and will be lengthy... sorry. nature of the beast...

i hope this last week has been a tender one, or a fulfilling one.
and if not, i hope you found a little something of what you needed to make it through...

LB,x ::

18 January



I am an aunt.
I have a niece.
Sequoia Catherine.

Welcome to the world little girl... you bring so many unfolding possibilities in your wake.

I dreamt intensely this morning of my brother and his wife. They were in the birthing room. Turns out, that’s exactly where they were. And so, despite the miles between, I feel connected to them and to her arrival, in a strange mirror to the connection I felt to my own mother’s departing.

How strange the synchronicities in this world. What cosmic conduit is this?

Like having a conversation in your head with a person. Intense. Filled with things unspoken and then they call…
what are we to make of these moments? Do they matter? Are they mere coincidence? I do not know…

But this, I do:
Birthing is a celebration.

There’s someone I’d like to see. i feel them birthing. i feel myself unfolding too...

and in celebration of Sequoia's arrival i played this in my headfonz real loud:

and if we're all for someone and if we're born for someone when will she come that someone and put things in their place?

::

Someone's come...



::
19 January

There’s someone I saw. And they were birthing. Unfolding their inner limbs. Dragging themselves with grief stricken brutality and tentative tenderness into the light of wholeness, with the groaning pangs of the earth from which we came and to where we will return.

Birth is violent. Painful truth: we can’t be birthed without feeling it...

::

InComing

He saw her crown. She seemed small.
He saw her head and face. She seemed large.
She forced her way out into the air
Pushed by her mother’s groaning body
Sending her out
Into the welcoming
This departing that is greeting.
He saw her whole and he overflowed, crumpled, fell into awe-filled worship.
As her lungs sucked in all the air
The room was filled with the pulsating waves of the power that is love
She is beautiful.
She is birthed.
And they cannot stop gazing into her.
To see her
Is to feel love course through their veins.
She is sign.
She is gift.
She is grace.
She is two become one.
She is a beginning.
And she always will be.
The arriving never ends.

We desire. To be born again.

She is birthing.

He is birthing.

I am birthing.

We all are always birthing,

If we are feeling.

Welcome child...

I will do my best.

Love.
Love.
Love.
Love.
Love.
Love.
Love.

::

Today

iTunes makes for some interesting and curious alphabetical juxtapositions... crystal gayle's don't it make my brown eyes blue and talking in your sleep are promptly followed by damien rice's rootless tree...to be followed by david gray's what are you? a whole lot of hurting and anger... it was something of a relief to get to the light.

::

and now for an announcement of a totally different kind...the launch of an art exhibition that i have just completed a piece for...

what? ikon co:ordinates*
where? waterfront hall, 2nd floor
time? 7-9pm
date? tuesday 6th february

you'll be very welcome if you're in the neighbourhood. i believe there may be a free glass of wine in it for ya. pictures to follow once it's been curated and my piece is in situ...

it's a quintet of (for me) uncharacteristically (but i think pretty ikon-esque) minimalist abstract images, which i've titled:
...what has been our loss has been its gaining... (parts i - v)

the title is a lyric. it should be in your collection. if not, get it sorted. google will help you out i'm sure.

explanation of some sort will come with the fotos next week...but needless to say, i'm quite excited to see the piece alongside whatever jewels the other contributors have come up with... i've spent months thinking about what i wanted to create and rejected about 20 different concepts... but this one, quite late in the day, just clicked... things fell into place...

::

so today marks me no longer being a home-owner. as i try and sift through the wealth of emotions that run through me like the boxes of my life and those before me waiting to go into attics, they entwine and tumble with thoughts of others... of a friend and family saying fond farewell to their beloved, who has left this world for some other place... of the goodbyes that this life makes us endure... of the welcomes we wish we could give or receive and can't... of the someone... of waves... of competing desires... of being caught between...of emotional puzzles making uneasy days with no obvious easy answers, of wanting things to be in their place... of home... of homes made of walls and homes made of relationship...broken homes, by which i think we mean homes where hearts get broken... of the nest i now want to build for myself...a home made of walls... and the expectation, the longing for a home made of relationship... and not knowing if one would know that someone if they came... of feeling our feelings...

::

rootless tree would fit, but i decided the following would be song of the week and i'm gonna stay loyal to that choice:

"Living In Twilight"

You look darkly on the day
With memories to light your way
A little sad but it's all right
We are always living in twilight

No one knocks upon your door
Until you don't care anymore
A little alone but it's all right
We are always living in twilight

Living in a dream, walking in between the sunrise and sunset
Living in a dream, walking in between sunset and sunrise

You get tied up in your day, so I let go and walk away
And now we're loose ends of the night
We are always living in twilight

So it goes, though no one knows you like they used to do
Have a drink the sky is sinking toward a deeper blue
And you're still all right
Step out into twilight

So I stumble home at night
Like I've stumbled through my life
With ghosts and visions in my sight
We are always living in twilight

- The Weepies.


LB, x

*ikon has 5 co-ordinates. it is: emerging, heretical, failing, apocalyptic, iconic. you can find out more on wiki...