I have heard many mothers say that something awakened inside them when their first child was born. She looked into his eyes, she inhaled his skin, she sensed his breath on her neck, and she knew this is something she hasn’t felt in a long time: true intimacy. They met each other in the unconditional space of the moment, where there is very little to do and very little to say, but BE and FEEL.
When Olivier was born and I placed him on my lap, we stared at each other for a long time. Our gaze was uninterrupted, solid, uncluttered with baggage. It was a straight shot between our hearts, and mine broke open. I cried. I felt weirdly calm, like I had arrived at some sort of destination I’d been wishing for, yet I was so incredibly terrified. I was broken wide open for the first time in a long time but I wasn’t sure I remembered how to live like this. I really didn't.
This unspoiled intimacy, this unbounded connection is often short lived, but can always be restored. No matter how old our kids are, that unconditional space is always there, waiting to be filled up with our grounded attention. We can only be emotionally intimate with others to the degree that we can be emotionally intimate with ourselves. The gaze is always there, always available, waiting to be met, but the world has left its imprint and we are tired, worried, lonely. In the moments we wish we could, we can’t sustain the intensity, we can’t remember where to put this kind of energy, how to let it in without loosing ourselves. It feels like it’s always a choice and there will always be a looser. It’s hard.
But every time we intimately take care of our own heart, we remember who we are and what we truly need. Every time we wrap our arms around the hurt little girl that lives inside us and tend to her wounds, we grow our capacity to meet that gaze. Every time we are patient with the wild and untethered fire that moves through our creative body, we rise within ourselves. Every single time we stop betraying ourselves and come home to our soul, we know what we are capable of.
For a moment, and a moment is enough, we know that the vaste infinity of the divine love we see in our child is a mirror of the goddess we truly are.
Rise Mother. Rise. Your heart matters.