Have you ever smelled a magnolia blossom? They’re like honeysuckle on steroids – not sick sweet, just sweet. Much like a gardenia. This one presented itself at nose level while hubby and I were on a quick away to Philly for the Magic Garden and inspiration for my latest art project and then to Lewes DE for an overnight and walk around to take pictures even though it was pouring rain.
Awesome company, yummy food, fun travel, time to create (photos). That’s the way life is supposed to be. At least that’s the story my head seems to be sticking to.
Life is not supposed to be an almost trajectory where things are on the verge of shooting to the moon only to be killed by outside forces (rant: greedy, self-serving bankers and CEOs who already make too much money to spend in their lives but want more so wreck the economy for the rest of us who they don’t want to catch up with them). It’s not supposed to be that way until it is.
Life is not supposed to be about working hard (often two or three jobs), taking care of your kids, paying your taxes, serving your community and then finding there are no jobs when you discover there is no way that Social Security and a small savings account are going to carry you through now that your art business has taken a nose dive. Did I mention that my art business has taken a nose dive? Until we get back to $3/gallon for fuel I expect that to continue. It’s not supposed to be that way until it is.
Life is not supposed to be about losing hope. Until you do.
Earlier this year I spent some time in the Deep Darks – about 2 months in the spring when I couldn’t blame it on short days and long nights. It rattled me pretty good. I can probably say that it knocked my feet out from under me. Well, you know, the only failure is not getting up again. And I did. I went to the Awesome Women Hub’s first gathering anywhere, which happened to be in driving distance from home. And it was Awesome. I made new friends. I’ve reached out and reminded myself I’m not alone. I’m stretching the boundaries of my art to see where it might go. Hence the above-mentioned trip to the Magic Gardens since ceramic shard and mixed media panels seem to be the direction: yard art, big, anything that reuses/recycles/renews.
In hindsight, the Deep Darks were about cracking open – to hold with my metaphor here, my water broke. I have labored to live in the question, and begun to move out of sitting into the realization of potential.
I am in transition. Any woman who has been through birth, or helped it along, knows that transition is where the really hard work gets done. It is where you find, after you have labored and breathed and cried and laughed and waited and workedworkedworked, after you have come to the edge and think you can go no further – it is where you find that you can. Because you must. Because something is being born and you are the only one who can birth it. If you give up, not only does your life force shrivel and die but also the thing that is almost here – the energy that is counting on you because you are the only conduit through which it can come in full expression – never gets any chance at all.
Transition is generally the shortest part of labor, lasting 15 minutes to half an hour on average. However, this is also the most intense part of labor for many women. Some women find that being reminded that they are in transition increases their ability to handle the intensity…Another physical sign is the inability to relax or be comfortable. A woman who was handling labor well may suddenly find that she has no idea what to do and nothing is comfortable any more.
During transition, contractions will be long and close. They may be 90 seconds long and two minutes apart, which gives you a 30 second rest time between contractions. The contractions may double peak, or they may seem to be one right after the other without any break. The major emotional marker for this stage is giving up.
The “giving up” or feeling out of control may be recognized by comments the mother makes. It is not uncommon for a mother to say, “I can’t do this,” or “I need something.” Recognize that this is not the mother asking for medication, but for help. She can no longer handle the labor the way she has been, and she needs to do something different. [from “Birthing Naturally” – which I didn’t by the way, altho the first time I tried. That’s another story.]
Transition is full of potential and fraught with the danger of not trusting the hero you are.
The hero is not “above,” looking down on human endeavor; she is often confused, living in the flux. Therefore, she does not try to eliminate all suffering and pain, but to affirm life in all its manifestations, and through this affirmation to transform it. Carol Pearson and Katherine Pope
This is the moment right before everything births. This is the moment you acknowledge and live the hero you are:
- This is the time to reach out for help if it isn’t offered. Ask. Be clear that you need help. Tell others how they can support you if they don’t know.
- This is the time when *everything* intensifies, when emotional pain peaks and double peaks closer and closer together
- This is the time to do something different
- This is the time to recognize that being uncomfortable is now “the way it is supposed to be” and that discomfort and neediness is okay right here and now
- This is the time to fully live everything you are feeling and know that all the things that you are feeling are okay
- This is the time to adjust your story to “Hell, yes! This is the way it is supposed to be and Hell YES! I’m a hero, and HELL YES! I can hold on for just one more second, especially if you’re holding my hand.
Wylde Women’s Wisdom
Resources for transition:
Stacey Curnow’s blog “Midwife for Life” – let’s face it gals, there are a lot of us who understand birth as a metaphor. If you’ve experienced it, use it!
Mo Davis’s Purplicious Passion Party starting July 1 AU$7 – 47 heart donation.
Coaching – I have space for new clients and it can be as little as a one hour phone call or as much as a year of customized sessions, whatever you need.