a soundtrack for a very specific 24 hours in june.

 

while we were waiting . may 31, 2010

almost four weeks ago now, we walked into a hospital ready to meet our child knowing we probably had quite the journey ahead of us before we would see her face. and oh how we journeyed. (deep breath) i learned that i am braver and more powerful than i truly ever thought i could be, and i have never been so proud of the person who is me who has walked to this moment in her life. and together, we learned about another layer of our love and how strong we are when our hearts are open and our hands are clasped.

over the next few weeks, i plan to share pieces of that journey and moments from this next chapter that we have just begun as we get to know our daughter and learn even more about love and bravery and strength and being present.

this evening, i want to share the soundtrack of part of this journey. the following songs (and these songs too) were sung (with my amazing doula and her incredible apprentice, jonny, and the [really i was so lucky to have them] nurses sometimes joining in), danced to, breathed through as i experienced each contraction every minute or two for almost 24 hours...they were the soundtrack that kept me centered and focused and grounded and holding onto something real and beautiful and true.

yes.

i share them knowing you might need to gather a few for your soundtrack as you walk on your path.

Galileo (Indigo Girls)

Have a Little Faith (Michael Franti & Spearhead)

Caravanserai (Loreena McKennitt)

Under African Skies (Paul Simon)

End of the Line (The Traveling Wilburys)

Virginia Woolf (Indigo Girls)

Walking in Memphis (Marc Cohn)

Everything (Michael Buble)

Caravan from Chocolat (Rachel Portman)

White Sandy Beach of Hawai'i (Iz)

Brave (Stephanie Dosen)

Brand New Day (Joshua Radin)

I Got Love for You (Michael Franti & Spearhead)

Home (Marc Broussard)

Dreams (The Cranberries)

Power of Two (Indigo Girls)

Stolen (Dashboard Confessional)

Have a Little Fain in Me (John Hiatt)

Peaceful Easy Feeling (Eagles)

Watershed (Indigo Girls)

Say Hey (I Love You) (Michael Franti & Spearhead)

Graceland (Paul Simon)

These Photographs (Joshua Radin)

Hallelujah (k.d. lang)

asking questions {a guest post from meghan o'rourke lecates}

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 these musings from Meghan O’Rourke LeCates.

*****

one of the most powerful + life-saving tools
i use
to grow + mend + thrive
{perhaps my first real tool in this realm of grow + mend + thrive}
is this:
asking questions

yes
this asking questions
coming from
{mostly in my younger years + sometimes still}
shy me
easily red-faced {to match my hair} me
the one who didn’t want to raise her hand
to draw attention to herself

asking questions = scary

someone{s} would be looking at me
focused on me
maybe even
seeing me

{i have long danced with:
i don’t want to be seen + i want to be seen
of course, you know, it’s all about wanting to be seen
yes, even the “i don’t want to be seen!”
is about this:
“i want to be seen”}

yes, me
asking questions

the one who didn’t want to ask
because it would mean
i didn’t know
and
“shouldn’t” i already know?

i thought i was supposed to know things

{how i was just supposed to know
i don’t know
but i was supposed to know
you know?}

if i didn’t know
it was on me

{a failure
a lack
on my part}

sigh

{can you identify with
any of this?}

yes
i started to ask questions
and
{at first}
not the kinds of questions you might expect
like
how does this work?
or
what does this mean?
or
could you explain that to me again, please?
{although i practice asking these kinds of questions, too}

the questions i started to ask
were questions i asked myself

necessary questions
questions
desperate
to be spoken + answered
hungry
to heal + lighten

deeply, deeply, deeply sensitive being that i was
{and still am
gratefully
with many tools in my ever-expanding toolkit -
i am ready for a toolshed}
i sometimes {= incessantly} thought
not helpful thoughts about myself
thoughts of the
i-am-wrong + i-am-not-good {enough}
variety 

finally
one day
this question made it’s way
mysteriously
{it’s not something i had ever heard before}
to me
and
rose up
through me:
is it true?

is it?

Is
it
true?

one question

it changed my life

here’s how it worked
i thought a
i-did-something-wrong thought
and
i started to feel
low-down-dark about it
and then
i inquired

i started to do
some investigating
some excavating
with this
singular question:
is it true?

is it?

Is
it
true?

True
as it turned out
mostly was
{always, even}
something else entirely

i don’t ask
is it true?
as much anymore

in this case
i do
just know

a question i ask a lot now is:
what do i need?

what do
i
need?

truly need?

i also ask:
does this resonate?
and
is this aligned?

i dwell in the asking of this:
what am i grateful for?

i am newly inspired + guided by this question:
what is the most playful + lighthearted choice i can make right now?

i wonder:
what question(s} are you asking?
how is this question{s} changing your life?

*****

Meghan O’Rourke LeCates is an ordained interfaith minister, ceremony designer + officiant, Reiki Master practitioner, spiritual director + coach and inspirational writer. Her motto these days: Rise + Shine!

Find out more about Meghan + her work and read her blog here: http://withpractice.com/. Follow Meghan on Twitter: https://twitter.com/withpractice.

in this moment {a guest post from vivienne mcmaster)

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 this "in this moment" post from vivienne mcmaster.

*****

In this moment, I am no where else but here. In this sunshine, this warmth, the ending of another day well lived. I put my camera on the ground, aim it upwards, and begin. I document days like this and the ones far less shiny too. I have these images to tell the story in a way that my memory can’t hold onto. It’s not the facts I want to remember, the date, the place. It’s the story of contentment my smile tells, the way sunshine feels after a week of rain and the way taking photos in the ravine makes me feel alive.

I am the only one living this life, this day this exact way and I am the narrator of my own story.

*****

Vivienne McMaster is a fine art and portrait photographer with a great love for toy and vintage cameras, self-portraiture, and channeling joy through her camera and into an image.

Her work can be found on her website, www.viviennemcmaster.com.

in this moment {a guest post from jennifer mcguiggan)

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 this audio post, "in this moment (hold onto hope)" from jenna mcguiggan. (just click on "hold onto hope" below.)

*****

Jennifer (Jenna) McGuiggan is a writer, editor, and writing coach who works with artists, writers, and bloggers. She is the creator and editor of Lanterns: A Gathering of Stories, a collaborative book of prose, poetry, and photography about women in creative community.

Jenna invites you to join her in The Word Cellar, which she envisions as a cozy, stone-walled chamber filled with twinkle lights, shelves of stories, nooks of books, and plush armchairs perfect for sharing your tale.

Visit her online at www.thewordcellar.com or email her at jennifer{at}thewordcellar{dot}com.

hold onto hope

(a few) expressions of miss ellie jane

a blueberry girl

We are soaking up every minute with Miss Ellie Jane while also trying to learn her language and follow that often said to us adage "sleep when the baby sleeps." We are also hoping the sun will come out so we can take her on her first walk around the neighborhood (and maybe even venture to the Sound so she can soak up the senses of time spent at the water). 

Last week, we had a very intimate (just Jon, Ellie, our dear friend Juli, and me) "welcome to this world Eleanor Jane" ceremony.

The ceremony included special prayers and hopes and wishes for Ellie, and each of us read something to her. Jon read Blueberry Girl by Neil Gaiman. You can hear Neil reading it in the video above. It is a favorite book of ours and was the first book we bought when we learned I was pregnant last fall (agreeing that it is a beautiful book for a boy or a girl). I think you too will love it...

(During the ceremony, I read Ellie a just discovered by me poem by David Whyte that I will share later this week.)

Hope the sun is shining in your corner of the world...

know (a guest post from chelsea lonsdale)

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.

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.

letting go of fear (a guest post by jennifer belthoff)

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 musings by jennifer belthoff.

*****

I feel like a failure
I came here
Volunteering to be present
Seeking to be inspiring
And everything I write doesn't even sound like my voice

I feel like a fraud
These words
They aren't me
I do not write like this

I am fearful of writing something terrible
Fearful of disappointing a friend
Where is this sudden writing fright coming from?

This fear is keeping me from being myself
It is holding me back
And spewing out things that aren't me

I must take hold of the fear
Place it in my hands
Firmly let the fear know I won't hold on
Then gently let it go

Upon release
I can hear the words my heart are speaking
My hands flow easily across the page
I can see myself appearing 

Free from fear
Fully present
Opening my soul to the world 

~~
What are you able to see
When you let go of fear?

*****

Jennifer Belthoff is
a dreamer,
a writer,
and a collector of words.

She enjoys
soaking in the sunshine,
laughing with her family,
and connecting with people.

You can get a little view
of life through her eyes
at Giggling in the Rain
(http://www.sunflowers131.blogspot.com/).