fire and isolation

perhaps it's the 5-going-on-6-day virus that makes me feel like i am wearing an irremovable stethoscope to my heart. Or the tangy cold weather that piles morning hours inside and turns the pages of my book. Perhaps its Mr. Winter, king of hiberNation, reminding me to slow down, even further and take care. 

i made a fire tonight and sat as close as possible. until sweat was dripping from the nose indentations of my glasses and until need for clothing was obsolete. the central air clicked off. the house became perfectly quiet, like the silence between a flame's flicker, except for the loyal stethoscope drumming away in my sinuses. 

alone. i thought. is this what it is to be a mother. 

and the thought made me sad. and curious. 

for i have been told by numerous knowledgeable sources that motherhood can be the loneliest time in a mother's life. yet, it never ends. this motherhood. therefore, i ponder "when does motherhood become less lonely?" "does it have to be this way"?

ah, the tribal argument. we lived near our sisters, mothers, and grandmothers. our aunts and cousins would watch the babes when we headed to the forest to kill meat or the fields to dig manioc. in the tribe existed an infallible support system, the uninterrupted wisdom of generations living on top of each other, and the internal safety net to allow one's children to play unsupervised in the village central. 

i dont know about you, but long are the days my taste buds craved this starchy root (yes, i have tried it. in paraguay.) And to be matter-of-fact, long are the days when my sister lived in the room next door and my parents across the hall. ive never lived in the same city, state, or even coast as my grandmothers, cousins, and aunts.  though we visit as much as we can. 

dont get me wrong. i am very close with my nuclear and extended family. i have a tight network of amazing girlfriends in all corners of the world whom i speak and visit with often. in my current homeplace, my husband and i have cultivated an amazing community of brilliant artists, dedicated parents, and peaceable folk. I experience an immense sense of gratitude for all the human (not to mention canine) love and support i receive on a daily basis. 

but there are times like these. times of isolationism, either purposeful or due to circumstance, that a sense of loneliness penetrates my howling soul. it is exciting when i feel alone. aloneness represents a moment when i have had the liberty to check out of the world for long enough to feel disconnected from its energetic vibe. its culinary currents. its swift pace.

perhaps i am birthing something in these times.  a quietude. a meditation. a reflection. 

and the aftermath, is my baby moon. 

what a sweet and precious tradition, the baby moon. some claim 1-3 months, others longer. our modern culture may define this is as maternity (or in the rare case paternity) leave, but for me it will always cycle languidly around the moon.

after 3 months, the child is beginning to wake up to the world a bit and mama maybe craving a peek into the happenings of a universe outside of her universe (i.e. a helpful visualization for family planning is imagining what time of year you would like to experience your baby moon. see the fertility link.)

Close your eyes and picture your Sleeping Beauty counterpart (though sleep has little to do with the first months of a baby's life. humor me) stepping back into a world of motion.  Wipe the dust from your eyes and imagine your first visit to a market. the gas station. a cafe.

i imagine my first journey of motherhood being oceanic. soft and rhythmic. vacant yet spotted with human presence, enough to assure me this is not a dream. i am out in the world with my child. i am forever changed.

i also imagine the hold of partnership, family, and community being so strong that i will never spiral into complete aloneness. but like all life's passageways, motherhood promises those sacred moments of feverish, passionate, infinite aloneness.  an opportunity to re-explore the journey. an airy moment to ground into onesrself. 

i believe that even the women of the tribe experienced loneliness at times. perhaps purposefully. to be a working center of a spinning wheel, to be a caretaker of self and others, one must cherish these moments. as we enter motherhood, we find them less and less. 

so longlive the occasional virus that strikes us down in the middle of our most motivated intentions. Captures us in a life as still as we can possibly make it. to perceive the darkness between shadows and to listen to the scream of the fire. may we be each other's mothers, sisters, grandmothers, aunts, and cousins. may we be each other's daughters, sons, and husbands. supporting the wobbly head of a newborn infant with firm, weathered hands. and knowing when to let that hold softly, generously. go.