What would become of me
If I gave my self up to the darkness of your night
The kind of dark that changes your eyes forever
Where only the light of the stars
Beckons you to look deeper into the sky
Pierce the Milky Way with your knowing heart
Feeling the moon pull at the waters of your womb
So ripe in her newness
You must rely on intuition alone
And what does that mean
In a world that has forgotten how to remember
Have I forgotten
As I think about my self
It seems there must have been more
But I can only remember what I remember
Like waking from sleep
With pieces of the dreaming
And pieces of the awakening
What would become of me
If I planted a seed so deep inside of me
And prayers became water
What if I kept the temperature
Of your sacred soil just right
You could create your seed self
Atoms struck by the lightening of divinity
Your gestation a tiny miracle
What greatness would you teach me
As I carried you deep within the walls of my heart
For months and months
Learning and learning
Keeping you warm with the layers
Of who I imagine you to become
And then what if
This sacred seed came forth
From the darkest place I have ever known
The breath it would take to labor
The surrender it would take to deliver
The trust it would take to birth
This seed, this self, this spark
Gracefully and calm
Into the light
What would become of me
It’s days like these
That feel like I am getting to know
Like sitting down for a cuppa tea
For the first time
At the same table
With someone you’ve seen
From the corner of your eye
A thousand million times
And when she turns just so
And your gaze meets hers
For the very first time
You can’t help but smile
As the feeling of such
A heart recognition
Bubbles up into your throat
Cause and effect
And brings the juiciest laughter
Tumbling out past
Your soft pink lips
And as you drink in
Of her smile
You realize all this time
You have been so tired
All the hours have been adding up
The sleepless nights
The milk stained sheets
And shallow breaths
Have taken their toll on your
And all you have really needed
Was a moment and a mirror
To rest your eyes
On the soul of this woman
You have become
And to notice
How she has blossomed
From someone’s Maiden
To someone’s Mother
And her joy is as easy
As life itself
And all that it really takes
To connect with her
Is that simultaneously
Small and big feeling
Of a hand
Over a heart
And a breath so deep
It touches peace
Some days, more than others
You can feel your soul recline
Back into the soft edges of your self
As the rain comes down in its
And the hearth fire burns on
In its inner smile kind of way
Your breath folds over your shoulders
Jaw sinking just a little deeper
And as your find that place of silence
Skin upon sheepskin
That moment of stillness that seems
So tricky to come across these days
The heart recognizes immediately
And sends that electric pulse
Into the not so far off
Galaxy between the eyes
In this millisecond you can remember
The way thousands of millions of cells
Sound when they are singing together
How a whole lineage of long hair
Braids together to strengthen
How this landscape feels more like home
Each time you trail your fingers
Along its topography
And how in these moments
Wrapped in the warm embrace
Of cedars and ravens
With his tiny fingers tracing
Ancient symbols on your chest
You are reminded of how good
This life can be
I am soooo excited to share my very first podcast with the beautiful Natalie of Dream Freedom Beauty!
It has been such a ride to get to this place of Mamahood, five pregnancies and only one babe in my arms, my beautiful son!
My prayer is that this extremely vulnerable and raw baring of my truth and soul help someone out there to know they are not alone on this journey, that there is support, and healing is so so possible! Listen to the podcast here: http://www.dreamfreedombeauty.com/autumn-rose-on-grieving-multiple-miscarriages-connecting-with-ancestors-and-healing-the-womb-with-plant-spirit-medicines-episode-87/
Autumn Rose is a writer, healer, and Rainbow Mama. She shares about her womb healing journey in Costa Rica, and what it takes to keep the dream of Mamahood alive after four miscarriages. In this conversation we get into:
There are many amazing experiences on this earthly plane, one of the most profound being the journey of birth. Growing a baby inside of you, from a little ball of cells into a being - with its own personality, breath, capacity to laugh and love - is sheer magic. And the body does this all, this intricate design and weaving, without any cue from the mind. It grows a baby, grows a placenta, and produces milk to nourish and support this being once they make their way earth side. Pretty incredible right?
So throughout pregnancy, who is holding the prayers? The Mama and Papa, yes? And throughout birth, who is holding the prayers? The partner, the doula, the midwife/doctor, the support, yes? And then after birth, when all the excitement has faded and the edges have become blurred, who is holding the prayers then, when Mama is preoccupied with everything babe? The partner’s focus is on keeping Mama supported, and the house together, and the support people have all gone home. This is where I believe the medicine of the placenta comes in so strongly.
This beautiful and life sustaining organ, the placenta, is now available for you to ingest, bringing it full circle back into your body, at the time when you need support more than ever. You can think of it like a giant vitamin made especially for you, by you. Ingesting your placenta after birth (which is like running a marathon, but way more exhausting, for anyone wondering), is the ultimate superfood and will give you the boost and energy you need while you transition into the next leg of the journey, breastfeeding and adjusting to your new babe.
The placenta is rich in vitamins, minerals, calcium, iron, replenishing you on so many levels. It is warming, tonifying, and helps to bring your milk in. It assists your uterus as it shrinks back down. It energetically holds you, as you pour everything you have into your new babe.
In many cultures around the world, the placenta is ingested, prayed over, and used in burial and offering ceremonies. It is in our western culture, that this precious organ is thrown out without a “thank you” for everything it has done. Without it, we wouldn’t be here, along with so many other mammals. .
In my experience, it was the praying over and processing of my placenta that brought so much healing to my family. Our birth journey was much different than we would have chosen, and taking the time to be in ceremony and prayer with my placenta helped to process, heal, and transmute so much trauma, for all of us. It brought us to a place of peace and harmony within 24 hours of our birth.
Encapsulating a placenta, from my perspective as a placenta medicine specialist, is such a potent ceremony. Filled with smudging, prayers, Reiki, sound healing, traditional Chinese medicine, herbs, and prepared with loving hands and heart, becomes a very shamanic experience. Every placenta holds and tells the story of its birth, without any words. Blood clots show ancestral healing. A placenta that keeps bleeding and bleeding shows trauma. You can tell the diet of the Mama and the relationship to her baby by reading the placenta. The colours range from soft pinks, to pretty purples, to bright reds. They can be so small and delicate to large and thick. The cords can be long, soft, short, hard, knotted, or come in pieces. They truly are so unique, and reflect the unique journey of pregnancy and birth in their shape, size, colour, and vibration.
I’ve served many Mamas and Babes with this sacred medicine, and each one has been supported and held by their own encapsulated placentas in the exact way that they needed. From lotus birth to cesarean birth, and everything between - placentas are so so special, whether you are encapsulating yours or burying it as an offering to the spirits who helped bring your babe earth side.
On my personal journey through the fourth trimester, I would reach to my placenta medicine when I needed it. It helped me find breath and ease when my new Mama mind was reeling. It brought my milk rushing in to nourish my new babe, and kept me warm when I would get chills. It assisted me with the intense pain of my shrinking uterus, and held me as my belly and organs slowly moved back into place. And after five weeks, my body intuitively new it didn’t need it anymore, and the rest of the placenta pills I have kept for offerings for my babe and I when he is older.
And now I have a placenta tincture to support me through menopause and my babe through big life moments. I have an umbilical cord dream catcher that will be part of the medicine bundle of baby treasures I will gift him one day. And I have deep gratitude in my heart for the precious gifts and nurturing this sacred organ has offered me - through pregnancy, birth, postpartum, and beyond. Bowing down low to this ancient medicine, and all it has gifted us, for all womban, past, present, and future. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
This is something so huge, that it commands my voice. And if you cannot find yours, then please find your ability to listen, your capacity to feel, and your full presence as you breathe. ME TOO!
I have never been raped, and I am SO grateful for that, but so many womban I know have. I have been sexually harassed, abused, and sexualized on every and so many levels. I learned how to store fear and shame in my womb from a very young age. I distinctly remember a boy in our grade one class who used to chase all the girls for kisses when the teacher left the room. That’s right, one of my first memories of intimacy with men was running away from one because his forceful nature was so so disrespectful and made me feel horrible and helpless inside, along with the 20 other girls in my class. I was five years old, and while I ran and he chased me, all anyone did was laugh.
This ME FIRST movement isn’t really about letting womban know they aren’t the only ones, we already know and understand this. Every womban and femme-identified person knows and feels that the goddess energy has been stripped of her power, and molded into this tiny, breakable, and tameable object in the eyes of our society and, ultimately, in our gender roles even today. We already know, and we hold each other in our circles and our ceremonies as we scream, cry, release, and heal.
MEN, this movement is really for you, for you to see, for you to feel, for you to know that this is not okay. It has never been okay. May these voices rise up in your heart and fill you first with sadness, with agony, with anger, and then finally, with forgiveness. Any time you are out with the “bros”, and one of them starts peeling away at the power of a womban, don’t let it just roll off your back. Please, please, PLEASE, do something about it. Say something. Stop this behaviour in its tracks. We need you to unite with us in this movement.
The next time a beautiful womban comes into your sphere, don’t compliment her on her outfit, her makeup, her hair. Instead, ask her what dream she is making a reality, how nature brings her to life, how her heart feels in these trying and truthful times.
The next time you are on a bus, and you witness someone yelling at their wife, crossing their girlfriend’s obvious boundary and level of comfort, or copping a feel from a stranger, please don’t just turn your head. Please stand up and support these womban when they need help. Please let them know that this behaviour is no longer being tolerated by the people of this planet. Please let them know that it is time for change.
The next time your girlfriend bleeds, honour her. Make her some tea and run her a bath with flower petals, massage her belly and her feet, and let her know that you see her and respect her in this precious and vulnerable time. And remind her that this time of blood is so so sacred, and that her beautiful womb is cleansing. Please remember that we all came to life from this blood, and that every single human on this Earth is because of these precious bleeding wombs.
My own journey to forgive and heal all of this trauma has been long, painful, healing, and a powerful time on this pilgrimage of life. I experienced the loss of four pregnancies before the long awaited and prayed for birth of my angel babe this year. You wanna know how I got there? FORGIVENESS. I had spirits show up in my dreams asking me to reach out to past lovers and say “I’m sorry and I forgive you”, with all of my heart. I screamed out the pain of my womb in grief circles. I prayed for the fire to fill the emptiness of my womb in sweat lodge. I purged the fear, shame, and sadness in Ayahuasca ceremonies. And I cried with my babe when he came roaring into the world, floating in on a river of this ancient and sacred blood.
And now I breastfeed my babe in public, in a field of love and protection. That’s right, I still have to protect myself. I want to be a living reminder not only that breastfeeding is natural, but that when my breasts are exposed, that it doesn’t mean that I am being “sexual”. That is a taught projection. And if a baby can come out of a naked womban and see her naked breasts as a very nourishing, nurturing, and safe form of love, than that man can relearn to see a womban in that same sacred essence. The womban hasn’t changed, only the perception of her.
We have a long way to go, my beloved tribe. And this day and this movement is a great place to start. If you are a man reading this, and you are guilty of sexual harassment, sexual abuse, rape, sexualization of womban, or silently allowing the continuation of rape culture as it happens within the walls of your awareness, I want you to know something. I forgive you. If you need to break down and have a good cry, please, please do. Acknowledgement is first what is needed. This all has been pushed on us, and passed down to us from our parents, schools, media. Our hands and hearts and minds have been filled with this programming, and it has robbed us of our truth, our respect, our power, our sacred sensuality and sexuality for far too long. It is ours to change and to transform into something new, something higher.
I know this is true. Every time I look into my son’s eyes, I see that everything begins in innocence, and whatever else is learned from there. I will teach him to respect womban, and that their beautiful and graceful Selves are a reflection of the primordial home we all came from, the one womb that held us so sweetly until we emerged into this life. The womb, our first home.
So yes, ME TOO. And men, if you have the courage, please share, so that we can all learn from this movement in ways of the heart: vulnerability, truth, healing, and love. Because, really, this movement is ALL OF US. 👁🦋👁
In love, forgiveness, and gratitude,
PS - This movement is not about womban vs. men, or gender equality, or hey I’m a man and I’ve been sexualized too so fuck you. If you are a man and that has happened to you, than you are closer to knowing what it feels like for womban than most of our brothers. I see you and I love you, hear this. But understand that this happens to womban multiple times a day, EVERY DAY. Let me say that again for the seats in the back, EVERY DAY!! If we focus our intention on the Mother Wound, where this ALL stems from, we can heal first this ancient wound, and ripple out from there. Thank you for being here. Raise your children with love and respect and they will walk in the world carrying that vibration. Have these conversations, please brothers. Let’s remember together, and unite in love, equality, compassion, healing, and responsibility.
Our true Elders, have a way about them, that can track through you, and find the most secret blip in your fractals. Like someone with knowing hands, they can run them over your entire being and find that one knot, that teeny place that is squeezing too tightly, and show you from a higher perspective, who and what you really are.
I am grateful to have a Spirit Grandmother like this in my life, who from time to time, visits my family in our little blue cabin by the river, and realigns us with the primordial frequencies of our oldest ancestor, the One World Tree.
It is behind the eyes, and bubbles up in the throat, it rests between the fingers, and it is far greater than any knowledge. It is wisdom, gathered with presence and love, like a wildcrafter, slowly and mindfully filling her basket with petals, roots, and prayers. And this wisdom does not come quickly, at beck and call, like so much in our modern world. It comes but slowly, turtle medicine, one foot behind the other. It is breathed in with each toe pressing down into the belly of Madre Tierra, and it is this very way of gathering that is responsible for the small lines that frame the deep eyes of such a Grandmother.
Take the time, dear ones, to sit and listen, truly listen to the Elders. Watch closely how they move their hands, who have created and destroyed so much. Notice how their long grey braids are tied to the ancient ancestors, and how their eyes are weaving the stories, the dreams unfurling from bloodlines that live on.
Some things I learned from sitting and remembering with sweet Grandmother Kaariina:
1. Motherhood is the first school. Let go of the ego’s need to hold on to an identity separate from Mama, surrender fully to what you have become.....a Mother.
2. Stop focusing on money. If you want to learn about true abundance, go sit at the base of a sitka spruce, and listen to the roots. Here you will learn true wealth, as above so below. And know that following your purpose will always feed your family.
3. Let your child tell you who they are, and let all other ideas of them fall away.
4. Know that all wounds lead back to the Mother wound. Be fully here in Motherhood, you are shaping the future with every moment of raising your child.
5. Laugh, ask for help, and know that it is okay to have a “Mommy Brain”.
Holding this medicine deep in my heart. Elder teachings are always incredibly deep and profound in their simplicity. Listen wholeheartedly to them, for seventy years of footsteps on an earthen path makes for a pretty amazing story.
📷 by Hayley Melrose
As I carried my little babe on my hip, down the old stairs, and around the side of my blue cabin, what I thought was a quick trip to take out the recycling, turned into a moment of magic. Of pure peace and presence, the ones that somehow summon the deepest breaths you've taken in days, and call upon the tiny and electric sparks of your heart to roar up and swallow you whole.
Behind my cabin, there is a slope that runs up to the edge of the road, where four mighty maples grow, spreading their branches far over the roof, reaching with their leafy fingers out towards the river, where it's growing sound and song beckons them to let go. I call them "The Protectors", and I sleep beneath their arched bodies, all cuddled up in a pile with my man, our cub, and our kitties. We have slept like this together for lifetimes, in our piles of furs and skins, with the warmth of our hearth fire burning. And it is beneath the ancient and crooked bodies of these protectors that we remember, every night.
The profound and simple messages that came to me as I stood barefoot, the cold mossy earth kissing my feet, and the rays of the sun soaking into my being, were a gentle reminding. That we are all kings and queens, and we reign in this pristine palace, alongside our friends and earthmates, the animals, the insects, the birds, the water creatures, the reptiles, the elementals, and the veiled ones. We are all here together, connected, breathing, existing, spiralling in love and reverence.
And this leaf dances on. Suspended by only the threads of time, held in the subliminal space of release and newly arrived, to pause, if only for a few moments, to bring me this message of peace and perfection, in a world that moves so fast.
And surrounding this interpretive dance of nature herself, are three spiderwebs of similar size, glittering a rainbow hue upon the silken strands, each spider perched perfectly within the center of their own creation. A web in the West, North, and East, and the Earth serving as South. As my eyes pour over this magnificent moment, my baby coos and smiles at me in the afternoon light, trickling through the forest.
And as my eyes focus and unfocus on the center of their medicine wheel magic dancing before me, my heart whispers the most gentle and sweet truth. Keep weaving, my love, keep weaving.
Mmmmm. Can you feel it? It's like I closed my eyes for a second and the flash happened so fast, Summer to Fall, season to season, like zap. And every cell in my being is like YES, this is the season where my energy feels the most potent, where I feel the most at home in this human vessel.
Maybe it's the comfort. I am a Libra being, and when the Venus energy illuminates, it's the beautiful, cozy, homey vibes that steal my heart and soul. The turning inward. The wool socks. The drinking slow "cuppa teas" with both hands wrapped around liquid warmth. Chopping wood. Building, making, and tending the fire, building the hearth of home with your own hands. Candlelight. Sweaters too big but somehow they fit this season so perfectly. Waking up to that morning frost, making morning cuddles that little bit juicier, longer lasting, toes curling and kissing around your lover's. Mmm, fall.
And with all the outer comforts, my favourite is the still, the turning in. My breaths deepen in this season. I find solace in retreating to my inner landscapes, and running my fingers along the vast inner realms of my being. The deep and dreamlike journeys that take place when the light bows to the darkness, and the long-awaited decent into the dark belly of the Earth Mother takes place. Ahh, to be so IN once again. I love the sunshine on my skin, but where I am most myself is within the heart-cave of this body. .
I finding Solstaces are softer, and Equinox energies are sharp in their medicine, like lightning. Electrifying. My body recognizes this season. A good cry. Self care rituals creeping in, in their fullness. Altar work, deep deep altar work. Attention to detail, every detail. Fingers yearning to touch beautiful things, guitar strings, beadwork, culinary craft, the flesh of my body, the cool earth.
And as I look to the river valley, the changing colours, I feel the rush of salmon making their way here. 500 000 strong. I can feel the pull of the bear spirits, the cougar's presence. This energy beckoning all of nature with its muted hum, like magic, spirit-infused, guiding us along this ancient spiral, as we let it all fall away.
I can feel your tiny warmth
All around me
And within me
On this cold morning.
The slightest chill
Dances her way
Through the cedar boughs
And usnea beards.
Against the brim
Of slate grey sky
Your smile beckons mine
Our lips a perfect mirror.
Curling up and drawing in
Comfort and cozy
Your presence brings me
Into my roots like no other.
And as things start to fall
Like they always do
Leaves, and rain, and dreams
I could stay here forever.
I have heard many tales
Of the ways of Motherhood
But, oh my love, there is no story
Quite like ours.