On a rather cloudy October morning, I sat overlooking the Atlantic ocean.
I am overcome with presence.
I am on a getaway to celebrate my birthday and reset. The first escape my husband and I have taken in over three years of, well, life.
Turquoise water as far as my eyes can see, tall palm trees evenly spaced out as though they were forming a path leading somewhere. Wherever it is, I had the knowing that it is worth going to. Gentle wind caressing the palm trees as they greet it with passionate flirtatious movements.
The universe seemed to want to reward me for my presence as a rainbow appeared. I smiled as if I just saw a dear friend, a long lost relative I seemed to remember in my cells that I belonged with.
It was a feast to my eyes.
Birds chirping away announcing the dawn of a new day, synched with the sound the wave makes when it teases the shore. These made up my only soundtrack. There was no other voice to her but that. Not even the usual company, the unyielding mental chatter.
As I pondered this, thoughts returned as if I had sanctioned them by name. As though I had cracked open a window on a summer evening and the first mosquito has been let in. First they reminded me that I would only have one more morning of this view, which took me right out of the present moment and a wave arose in me in an effort to negate the unpleasantness of the thought I had just experienced.
I am 28 weeks pregnant, I thought. My baby fluttered in my womb as if she was confirming her presence. I have a toddler and two sons being watched by a family friend.
"What kind of good mother does that?" my thoughts whispered.
I no longer heard the birds nor were the waves audible as they just were.
"It's the middle of a deadly pandemic" added my thoughts. It felt as though I had committed the cardinal sin in the world of a mother. Abandoned my children in search of pleasure for myself.
A swarm of mosquitoes was now buzzing around.
As misery would have it, as I sat there punishing myself for not fulfilling a motherhood ideal, I felt the company of billions of women spirits who have such thoughts as constant companions.
I felt the urge to say a prayer on behalf of the spirit of womanhood as a whole. For I knew that though motherhood seemed to put the last nail on the coffin of our BE-ing, to not be seen, to not embrace our wholeness, to not feel deserving of choices that may not put everyone else's best interest first but our own was a common theme in feminine existence.
Sacrificial and self-denying.
I was growing more anxious by the minute.
A prayer promised relief from the now bothersome mosquito bites of heavy emotions I was experiencing, but who to offer the prayer to, I was not so sure.
The idea of calling on Father God seemed odd to me. I have been exploring the influence of centuries old patriarchal traditions in Religions as we know them. Each chapter of my search for a truth that would resonate with my soul has gotten me to contemplate the sexlessness of the Divine but did not offer any clarity or comfort when it came to why I was to call on to a God represented as a male.
He would't understand what I was feeling, would He?
I knew my search will take me places I have never been to. It will take me out of my comfort zone, shatter everything I believed as true and usher me into painful reckonings before I would awaken from the slumber I knew I was in. I will have to continue to seek, read, research, feed my curiosity with what's been meticulously hid from me instead of chastising it to conform as the good girl the masculine favoring world taught me I had to become. The path will take years if not my whole life to trek.
But for now, I needed quick relief.
So I called on Mother God.
She responded. In the waves, the wind, the birds and the movement of life growing inside me that I was suddenly deeply aware of once again.
She whispered "All is well"
She said "BE"
She said "Give, nurture, create, flow, shine, grow. Just as I model to you through BE-ING.
Just remember, often enough, also turn it inward."