Category Archives: Healing

The rhythm of time

moving through time 2

‘The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.’ – Rabindranath Tagore

‘The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.’ – Rabindranath Tagore

I listen to the rhythm of his breath. The rise and the fall! The rhythmic sounds draws me in and I kiss his sweet lips, I can smell his breath – A milk scent. I used to inhale his milky breath when he fed off my breasts. I can’t help but feel an ache in my chest with remembrance of the week he weaned himself.  For tonight, I long for that scent,that feeling.

I write in my journal as he sleeps reflecting on my day. Thanking the blessings, acknowledging thoughts, when my mind wondered to the thought of time. I looked over at the clock, I’d been writing for hours and the only sound that can be heard is his breath and the occasion car that drives past. Mr. Kypo and my older babes are out.

Time is a funny thing. I’ve wished it away, I’ve wished it still and other times, I have no regard or need for it.

I remember when all three babes were born and in the blissful days, weeks that follow, I relished in their time.  Time from a clock had no meaning.

My girl, so small and fragile I would cradle her, drink her in cocooned in Mr. Kypo’s arms. We’d just stare at her. Kiss her. Look at each other and stare some more. Loving eyes fixated on her. She would cry, my breast soothed her. My heart swelled so big knowing what unconditional love feels like. It was summer, the warmth in the air, still and thick. I wished for time not to tick another second.

My boy, my middle boy! He all mine. Milk drunk on my breast, he’d collapse his body into my chest. We perfectly moulded together. Mr. Kypo cocooned us in his arms, on a different lounge, in a different home and I wanted to pause. My boy, my middle boy and I  slept together. I’d wake to feed him through the darkness of the night, he my company in our bed while Mr. Kypo and my girl drove to visit Mr. Kypo’s family. Time ticked over, my awareness of it seemed to only be day and night. Outside the noise of the cicada’s echoed! The summer air was humid.

My baby boy, belonging to all of us. The curtains open, the light in our lounge -room warming us as I sit on our lounge. A different lounge, a different home bare chested, he too, skin on skin  nuzzling on my breast. Mr. Kypo sitting with us! I moved toward him and he marveled. His eyes reflected love, wonder and creation. We did it again. He fed me, he nurtured me, loved me. Time wasn’t still, I  didn’t wish it to be. I wished it would hurry. I longed for our older kidlets to be finished school, be at home where we are all complete. It was spring, the flowers were blooming the sun was subtle and birth was in the air.

My heart fills with a knowing tonight. As I write I can feel them. I’m back in the present moment of time. I hear the key in the front door they are home. I know it’s late, cars in our street can be heard more frequently, perhaps there destination is home too.

Time draws me in, reminding me to remember, to be still  and give blessings for it. Be in it and ignore the binding a clock can have.

When you listen

The mix-match of yoga tights and my apron. My family. Home comfort.

The mix-match of yoga tights and my apron. My familiar. Home comfort.

I am really emotional, actually very tired. Parker has been awaking a lot and needs only his Mama. He is cutting his two year old molars, his last three. I know he is demanding my presence, so he should.

I am aware of all the extra noise. It’s as though my brain is completely full, my senses are heightened and I am retreating. Once again, I am deleted Facebook off my phone. Today I have checked it only once on the computer. I haven’t mindlessly scrolled through my newsfeed, I checked my messages, replied and logged off.

I’m in bed, dressed with my apron still on. A book sits beside me, I can’t bring myself to read it, it too is noisy. There is silence in our home. I can hear the birds chirping outside their conversation and I don’t wonder what they are chirping about. A lot of the time when I hear them, I make little stories up in my head about the Mama bird, her babies and their conversation. Today, I just observed.

Mr.Kypo is sleeping with Parker in the bunk bed, perhaps it is time to transition him from our bed. It’s 10.45am. Tears are swirling in the beauty of silence. It’s my sanctuary. It hasn’t always been. Silence has been a place I have resisted. I would fill up those moments with Facebook, blogs, talking on the phone and any other way of distracting me what used to be the loud noise in my head.

For today, I am relishing in the silence not through meditation, not through yoga, not through mindfulness, purely just being here.

My body wants warmth of my doona, my toes intertwine the bottom. The coolness brings relief and comfort. They have been here before.

Lotus is home sick and she’s in the other room. I question whether she too is craving the absolute beauty of nothing?

I know my body is getting ready to bleed. My thoughts tell me , my body is telling me. Its inner wisdom reveals all the answers. There is a dull ache in my back and I am feeling the need to be nurtured.

Go gentle I tell myself. Be gentle, you have permission. I feel humbled and grateful for these little moments when I listen, honour, feel deeply and love endlessly.