The Angel Remains

Open your life today.

At first your eyes
and then, just to exercise,
your roof,
then the sky.

Fly to come down,
to open the earth.
Look at the hurt
with the intensity
of what you are worth.

Touch with all your senses,
open all the channels
just by saying yes
to flesh and soul.

Open it all
and see yourself waking up
in your own gentle hands.

No matter how wounded
the angel remains,
always.


This angel-candle was my self-made birth-candle! If you are pregnant, a nice way to prepare for your birth. I also made a few candles together with my kids. For them it is also good to have fun being part of the birth-preparation of their new baby-brother or sister. You can just pick the candle of your preference and order some coloured bee-wax from Amazon (or in case you live in a city, get it from the next creative-shop). The wax goes soft in your hand so you can kneed all kind of shapes and figures, or use a little knife to cut shapes out.

I made an angel because I felt I would need the heavenly protection and to be reminded of my own, angelic self in the for me personally, often so rough storm of birth. Some women seem to be able to birth staying pretty angelic, but I have some hidden animalistic bits coming up when it comes to childbirth.

A nice occasion to make (one bigger) birth candle is with your girlfriends on a Blessingway-celebration. Or, each woman can create her own birth-candle to light when you go into labor. I will tell you more about the Blessingway in another post soon!

No matter how you decide to do it, it is a wonderful gesture to bring light to birth. Also when you are not pregnant it is a beautiful blessing-ritual to light a candle for all women that are in labor right now, as we did once in the Doula-course with Debra Pascali Bonaro. Because, as she says:

' Peace on earth begins with birth!' 

Inspiration & News for the E-zine 'A River of Milk'

Written Inspiration
You can read some interesting approaches of the subject by famous poets here! https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poems-birth-and-parenting 

'Poems about birth and parenting are poems about creation, or beginning, or nurturing, or innocence, and poets have found such metaphorical resonance irresistible.' 



Painted Inspiration
Here I share with you some images that could possibly make you want to birth a poem:

Some sweet one's:

 
 Two works by the lovely Yasmeen Amina Olya..                           www.yasmeensong.com

Motherhood presented wildly romantic.

Some darker ones...

A mother's wild protective nature..

This picture of a body-painted woman in black and white reminds me of the Ina May Gaskin-quote about birth 'Let your inner monkey do it'.

Switch of the thoughts and be one with nature.

& famous:

Gustav Klimt - The three ages of woman

Have you noticed that often the old woman is left out of this picture, on postcards and online images?
Very significant for our society's view on what should be shown and what not. This dark woman in the third age is definitely asking for a voice in 'A River of Milk'.

Henry Ford Hospital by Frida Kahlo 

This small painting (16" × 12") reflects one facet of her struggles: a history of recurrent pregnancy loss.

News!

'A River of Milk' is also open for visual artist's Submissions! 

I am looking for a cover- and promoting-picture to replace the one with the whale.

It would be utterly amazing if you could create something that captures both the dark as the wild-romantic side of motherhood/pregnancy and/or birth.

Pitiful enough I can't pay the writer's and artist's at the moment, but who knows what will grow out of this project in the future? If you feel inspired by the whole idea and it gets you on a wave of creation, this is where your joy is! To follow your joy will make you feel 'rich', which brings you on your path to abundance. I am still a believer myself ;).

For the submission-guidelines for poets, go to the original call for submission-post

http://mothergoddesspoetry.blogspot.co.at/2016/03/a-river-of-milk-poetry-e-zine-about.html

Thanks for your sharings!

writes,

your Laura

Where I am tired the garden revitalizes me with her soft paw-massage

 

Hedgehog in the fog

Some days we look into the face of darkness, or feel it's shadow hanging over us.
Yesterday was such a day. Someone dear to me but physically miles away, had to go through something horrible.

Let's call her the hedgehog. The hedgehog had to go through the horrible, let's call it fog. She did not have much of a choice, the fog just came over her, the way all living things have day after day with all kind of weather coming over them. This fog though was particularly thick and as the hedgehog swallowed it she could not imagine there would be another side. She could not imagine that there would be a visible landscape ever again. Living innocently in the present, with her wide open eyes there is nothing but fog in the middle of the fog.

So I got a telephone call, saying the hedgehog I love got dissolved in the worst kind of fogs. And the worst thing was: there was nothing I could do. From that moment on I felt like I was my hedgehog, I was the fog myself. Wherever I went and saw beings I saw my hedgehog and I felt so sad about her. I felt like I had not seen her until now I could not..

Today I watched Hedgehog in the Fog on YouTube, shared with me by a poet-friend I only know from Facebook. It made me burst in to laughter again and again. It made me aware of the love and beauty of my dear hedgehog. Now I can't see her, but I can be happy that she is there. I can be happy for what is there, the way it is. My hedgehog has placed everything where it belongs, in perspective. With a heart that lives in the middle of the fog, the planet of love in her own beautiful centre. How can she who is one not find herself again?

Today I read Frederick Leboyer's beautiful book 'Atmen, singen, gebaeren' (in german). It is about using breath and voice to stay above the waves (the birthing-contractions). A voice, a tone that feels like 'yourself' is all that is needed to not let the ship strand. While reading I experienced again, feeling freshly born in the simple beauty of a day.

Today I met the midwife on the playground who was there when I gave birth to my first child, a bright shining daughter. The last year I accidently met her was almost a year ago. Whenever I see her my heart skips a beat! Not only did she help to give my daughter, another beloved hedgehog of mine, a peaceful way through the 'hurricane' of birth, also she gave me the most gentle birth of becoming a mother I could possibly imagine.

Today I can imagine, she will get through, my beloved hedgehog.. Today the world appeared to me as a magical theatre filled with signs about getting through.

In this video clip the hedgehog is so happy in the end to listen to the bear, her friend who reminds her that without her, he can't look at the stars the same way. Without realising it, she has always been the one who knows the way, is the way.

My love goes out to you, my prickly sweetheart..

Mudra Boy

I have written this poem for our lovely son Davin. He is one and a half years old and he loves puddles.


In a puddle in a dream
considering reality
with my feet I touch
earth mixed with water
my mothers face
is a moving imprint in clay

She who gives me my boots
and the truth
every moment of everyday
she moves and I do
here, in standing still

I observe the firedragon
in my chest
my breath
a dangling paper bird
watching my stillness
my being like a stone
my two fists

I see life
where the sun reflects
I might get dirty.