My body tells the story of my life. I carry with me the marks of bruises and bumps, of accidents and incidents, of life lived and life halted.
Like water, life is full of flows and ebbs and rushing and stillness and noise and silence.
And water takes us right back to before there is a ‘me’. Before I was me I was held in water, in my mother’s body. As she was held safe in water in her mother’s, as we all were, back and back. It’s like the Disney song, under the sea we don’t have responsibilities, don’t have relationships. Everything is taken care of. In the water we can just be.
As a woman, in a woman’s body, time is counted in eggs released, in moons. In monthlies. And for many of us in pregnancies wished for, wanted, worried about. And maybe-babies that could have been or might have been. And each of those pregnancies, births, babies, eggs – fertilized or unfertilized as the case may be are part of us and our story. And our religious tradition provides a space for recognizing this. [Read more…]