It’s 4am and I’m wondering. I woke up from an alarming dream and tell myself, I will always be a work in progress. To always have sweet dreams is like only having happy thoughts. That is not the world, that is not me, and I accept.
To accept myself, I realized under a jungle canopy of twinkling stars, is part of finding myself. The Ayahuasca was strong in my blood. I held myself, looking up at the night like a child, I thanked the gods for the beautiful woman they created. I thanked the universe for this love inside me which I wrapped myself in. I cried for all the beautiful thoughts that ran like a river, flowing, meandering, weaving through my mind. My eyes a great canyon for which these thoughts escaped as tears. So many that the salt seemed to dwindle, to my lips I could barley taste the sea, they were now fresh water. Water for growing.
And yet, how could love feel so sweetly sorrowful? The sacrifices of my parents, even before my existence. The torments of those I loved. The struggles of those and of which I know not. Heroes. The love I’ve been afraid of. All of it, I felt. All of it I released back into the darkness and sent sweetly to the ones I love. If you wondered was it you? It was.
That night, I was blessed with the remembrance of my first memory. In the womb. I was apart of my mother- The Goddess and my own mother. Protected in a brilliant light of red and orange. I cried for us, the mothers. And as the healing song reverberated in my ear in a way that spoke to my spirit, it was then I knew, with more certainty than I’ve ever imagined, one day I will be a mother.
Gracias, Gracias, Gracias.