while we are soaking up the wonder of a newborn in the house, a few of my blogging friends are sharing some guests posts...enjoy today's words from chelsea lonsdale.
in this moment, i am overwhelmed with a move and the sorting of belongings, the temporary space in my daughter's father's apartment until we get the keys to our own (and, being together in the same space for the first time in two years, we will actually be parenting together briefly and sharing groceries, and the growth on each individual's behalf has been so exponential that it is almost like fellowship with a stranger, bright eyes and all). breathe. rest. when i am like this (which i am often, frazzled a bit and happily seeking balance with absolute confidence that it will be found), i draw from words. one phrase that i have written in my notes: "the earth is their communion." it is from a Wendell Berry poem, one that i cannot remember the name of and therefore cannot find for you because the book i got it from is out of print! (the country of marriage is the book - oh, if you can get your hands on this, please do) here, instead, is another of his:
“As a people, we have lost sight of the profound communion—even the union— of the inner with the outer life.”—Wendell Berry
know both inside and out. know that the rhythm of our breathing, the energy between our selves, our children, our partners, our neighbors, the stranger sitting in the chair by the window here in this coffee house - we are in constant communion. breathe, and rest in this thought. we are in communion with one another, and with the earth, with the things we consume and the fabrics we clothe ourselves in. we possess an innate responsibility for these things. it is perpetual reciprocity - we give, it gives. we take, and it takes from us. what is 'it'? life? something within the universe? the mantras we hum under our breath? it is what you want it to be. it is in the push from life to death and to life again, from the ground up and then back down. know. grace. be. and be loyal to these things you have chosen.
when are you most at peace?
i am most at peace when i am reminded of these things: the love between individuals - the way the poet writes to his dear wife, and the sacred places he makes for himself - near his window, in his house, as he plants and harvests (both literally and metaphorically). when there are flowers in my kitchen. when i am confident that my daily choices leave the smallest footprint. when there is simplicity. when my little one tells me she's going to be a woman someday. when there is rain. when she meditates as she pours water from one little cup to the next. when spring turns to summer, and summer turns to fall. when there is community like this that liz has nurtured, that gives women the opportunity to connect and nurture one another.
chelsea is an aspiring writer who thrives on motherhood, community, and thrift stores. her blog can be found at nashifeet.blogspot.com. she also sells vintage and handmade on etsy at nashifeet.etsy.com.