Children have 100 languages- and so does light.
Perhaps everything has it’s very own 100 languages to describe what it is, what is sees, what it feels, and what it knows.
Tonight I was walking by Nancy’s room and it pulled me in with a deep, peaceful force. At first I just stood in the doorway, looking, and then I sat down and It was like I could feel her. I sat there, still as maybe I have ever been before, forever. It was like in some sense, I gave birth to something about her, or I held something about her, something I didn’t know before. Something still, and permanent and huge. It was something more than beautiful.
I’ve been connecting with this little person, Nancy June, all morning. I haven’t seen her in a while, so this picture is from over 2 months ago. When people see it they often think she’s sucking her thumb, but she isn’t. She was moving her hands around as if describing a very particular point of experience. While we watched her move around, just in the smallest half moment before we couldn’t see anymore, she seemed in love.
I often wonder what it will be like to hold her for the first time.
She moves a lot, but it’s more of a rolling delicate feeling than a kick or a punch. It reminds me of dancing in the grocery store or in other’s living rooms when I was little. Uncomfortable for my mother, natural for me.
I’m tired and I’ve gained weight. I don’t feel entirely like myself, and it’s more difficult than ever to feel valuable. I’m quite peaceful, perhaps more sad than usual, but overall I’m confined in a particular contentment that can be described as understanding.
I’m ready to give birth.
I’m ready to nurse, and hold, and cry and feel exhausted and awake. I’m ready to hum and whisper and lay in the bath together. I’m ready to carry, to know, and to rest. I’m ready to walk and read and play. I’m ready to listen and understand, describe my movements and dance. I’m ready to share, I’m ready to see, and I’m ready to grow. I’m ready to be born.
Don’t be fooled. Those anatomical circles do have feelings, but they are only a select few. The rest lay mercilessly to the will of those that can feel, and see, and know, and be, and the ones that can’t… we call those the Josephines.