Mama Rising

The Muse, it has been dormant for so long, slumbering within the dark and profound space of my womb. Now she stirs and awakens with eyes alight. With slender hands that betray her agility and strength, she pulls me down towards her. I have been opened; and once more the words, they flow- down through my crown, up from the womb, converging at my heart space and sitting there, growing in power for just a little while--  Until they spill, like fresh and energetic headwaters, out through my hands and flood my world. Photo by  Ahmed Saffu  on  Unsplash And here it is: this cycle's manifestation of the interaction between the Muse and I- the Mama Rising blog. I pray that this project takes breath and grows from the cellular upward, that it may become, with beneficence and light, a fertile, expanding thing. Dynamic, alive, alluring. I humbly ask for the divine light of creation to stream through me, for the support I need in this path, for rest an...

I spend a lot of times not being heard these days. Although that isn’t completely accurate- the incidents of my words spilling out to the vastness of space beyond my children’s attention, priorities and awareness are fleeting, of course. But hanging there, as they are, in space, divorced from me but unanchored in the sea of suspension that is the beyond my children’s hearing and acting; they become potent in a way that is not healthy. They begin to fester and rot and before I know it, as is the way with the silent and omnipresent microbial forces that coat everything in our world, infection sets deep. And thus those unheard words return to me. They have become heavy in their failure to be witnessed. They come running back to me, tear stained, red eyed, snotty all over, and demand my intention. “They didn’t listen!” They wail. “They don’t care!”. (This, of course, the voice of my wounded, wailing inner self combines in cacophany with my actual children’s own wailin...

Musings on Motherhood: The story-weaving of Gypsy Mirabai Seed Mama. Story Weaver. Dreamer. Earth creature  Writer + Doula + Birth Counsellor + Sacred Pregnancy Motherhood is a sacred and demanding walk into love, service and awareness. As mothers, sharing our stories and our wisdom is our strength. To speak of our experiences as a mother is to give expression and expansion to our deepest yearnings, insights and  fears. To witness is to hold space, to amplify and support the work each of us do, and to build a stronger community. In listening, our hearts may burn with a resonance for our collective path; or for the next task in our individual journey. When, as mothers, we are strong, our children flourish and thrive- and so does society. Story-weaving is alchemy, These musings on motherhood are my humble offering to the collective story of motherhood. Everyone is born with a calling: a medicine to share with the world. My calling is ...