Limitations of the Christian Trinity (God as Mother)

As promised, an excerpt from my paper on the Christian Trinity. A few things to consider:

I am generally familiar with, but was never indoctrinated into a Christian tradition and I have been Pagan most of my life. The majority of what I have learned has come from my own personal study or from my time at Iliff. So if my tone denotes a certain naivete on the nature of God, it is with good reason.

This assignment had certain limitations--number of words, pages, etc. This means as the student we write to the assignment. As much as I would like to expand on certain topics sometimes, such are the rules...

This was an opinion piece. I wrote it this way intentionally to generate critical thinking and constructive dialogue. If this piece offends you, I would stop and ask yourself why before you put your thoughts to the keyboard.

Blessings,
Denora

The Gender Limitations of the Trinity

            “O Lord, our God, we believe in you, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. For the Truth would not say, “Go, baptize all nations in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit (Mt 28:19), unless you were a Trinity” (McGinn 2006). For many Christians, the Trinity is the ultimate source of comfort and solace, and represents many aspects of the face of God. Of the many examples of mystical practices this quarter, perhaps the most compelling for me was utilizing the imagery of the Trinity to symbolize internal phases of the souls’ journey to God consciousness. This resonated with my own personal tradition in ways I had not thought of prior to this course. The importance of the Trinity and what it represents cannot go unnoticed—however I would argue there are limitations to the symbology that only includes male representation. As a scholar I have to question who are we excluding when we present this view of divinity. What are we losing when we limit ourselves to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?
            The key example I want to highlight for this is Julian of Norwich’s account of Christ as mother. When I read her depictions, I had to stop and gauge my own reaction: “Our Mother in nature, our Mother in grace, because he wanted altogether to become our Mother in all things, made the foundation of his work most humbly and most mildly in the maiden’s womb” (Walsh 1978). Coming from a polytheist, mystic feminine tradition I wasn't sure what to make of her statements at first. I do acknowledge the challenges of her time and her role in that society. Her message rings clear and distinct during a very dark and tumultuous time for humanity—“God is love.” Indeed, the editors of the text we read summarize her aims as “The underlying concern of Julian is that of the totality. What she develops is not the idea of femininity as opposed to or distinct from that of masculinity, but that of the motherhood of God as complement to that of his fatherhood…She conceives the quality of a mother as present in the Trinity, as well as that of a Father, a Son and their Spirit” (Walsh 1978). We see these aspects in her writing, especially when she describes Jesus as Mother feeding us with himself, laying us against his breast, and loving us despite our faults as human beings for all of eternity. His sacrifice on the cross is likened to child-birth, and he is the Mother of mercy where man has his “reforming and restoring” (Walsh 1978).
            As an outside observer of the Christian tradition, I see Julian’s words as being vital in so many ways to establishing meaning and purpose for life during her lifetime, but more specifically for women in a predominantly male world. By incorporating the aspects of Mother as merciful, graceful, sure, and always present for her child, we see Julian carving out a place for the feminine to exist in unity with the masculine in the totality of the divine. I applaud Julian’s passion in her message—however I cannot internalize this message. I feel our world which demonstrates the functional balance between masculine and feminine is in need of divinity which embodies both of these aspects in their completeness. By incorporating the Mother under the role of Jesus (the Son), it demonstrates an appropriation of that which belongs to women. The crucifixion is a terrible and beautiful phenomenon that demonstrates the love Jesus has for the world and humanity, but it cannot be drawn in parallel to growing another human being and bringing them into the world, and I paused when I read her statement on physical birth: “For though it may be so that our bodily bringing to birth is only little, humble and simple in comparison with our spiritual bringing to birth, still it is he who does it in the creatures by whom it is done” (Walsh 1978). Is it a byproduct of her time that would cause Julian to see childbirth as such a low achievement? I have often asked in my coursework—why don’t we ever ask how Mary felt when she brought Jesus into the world? Was she in pain? Was she afraid? Surely to be acted upon by male deity is nothing new in the world of mythos, but I feel it is a grave injustice to the story of women throughout time to allow the Trinity to represent and summarize the totality of the human story. I understand also that throughout time man and the religious institution has struggled to define God, and Julian is functioning within the context of the acceptable image. But, standing where I am in relation to these histories, I feel compelled to ask why is the voice of woman silenced so? I am a mother, and for me the experience of bringing new life into the world is a holy experience. It is also an experience that deserves to be claimed as a cherished and sacred rite of women. If God chose Mary to be the vessel that brought life to the Son, then why is she not the example of Motherhood?
            “Listen and hear me; for none can escape me. It was I who gave birth to you, and in the depths of my earth, you will find rest and rebirth, and I will spring you forth anew, a fresh shoot to greenness” (Crowley 2003). I listen to the call of my Mother who is also a Trinity, and wonder if there will ever be room enough in this world for both. Can we find truth in the meaning behind the language we use for the divine? I truly believe Julian of Norwich was a visionary of her time, but still limited by the views and powers of the institution. I resonate with the power and beauty present in the Christian Trinity, but refuse to accept the limitations of confining deity to one gender. I feel this discussion is crucial to our work of understanding ourselves and the divine, along with cultivating those relationships that sustain us in our faith over time.  
           

Crowley, Vivianne. 2003. Wicca: A Comprehensive Guide to the Old Religion in the Modern World. London: Harper Collins .

McGinn, Bernard. 2006. The Essential Writings of Christian Mysticism. New York: The Modern Library.

Walsh, Edmund Colledge & James. 1978. Julian of Norwich: Showings. New York: Paulist Press.

 

A Pagan Parenting Dilemma on Christmas

I had an interesting encounter this past weekend. As expected, the minute Thanksgiving is over we are inundated with Christmas--everything from music to shopping and decorations, etc. I was washing dishes and my son was watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, one of his favorite shows. Well...the episode just happened to be about Mickey and the gang saving Santa so that he could deliver presents to all the good children of the world on Christmas.

Now, my family celebrates Christmas. I also happen to observe Yule in my own ways, and have included my family in some ritual traditions over the years. As my son gets older I fully plan to continue observing both holidays for the coming together of family and the joy of the season. But this encounter with Mickey and Santa has me perplexed. I mentioned to my husband that I'm not completely convinced I want to lie to our son about Santa--as in, this fat old white guy flies all over the world and delivers presents to good children. The arguments against perpetuating such a lie are well summarized here:

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/plato-pop/201312/the-santa-claus-lie-debate-answering-objections

(I'm also not a fan of the elf on the shelf, but that is for another post) I realize as a Pagan parent in our modern American society there are common cultural influences that we are exposed to regularly. I listen to classical Christmas choir music, which is eternally about the miracle birth of Christ our savior even though I am not Christian. I get that Santa is something that my kid will encounter and I'm working on formulating how and when I can navigate these conversations (both baby Jesus and Santa) while giving my son the space to choose what he wants to believe. In the end that's my ultimate goal: how can I maintain my authenticity as a Pagan parent while allowing my son to do the same? Any constructive feedback on the subject is welcome.

Blessings,

Denora

The Intricate Web of Power

I had a cold, hard reminder of power dynamics on Saturday.

I just spent a week in Denver, in a group environment dedicated to identifying and calling out systems of oppression and how they function to keep the status-quo.

I had even done some additional work to name and work through my own privilege--how it manifests and how I can become more aware of it and hopefully use it to help others.

Then I was a victim of sexual aggression.

Just that simple, someone else who thinks they can so something does because in their mind it seems like a great idea. They didn't ask my opinion. They didn't stop to think how it would make me feel. And for me, all the times I've ever been violated and all the faces of perpetrators come forward to remind me that I am a woman in this society.

A man can look at me any way he wants. He can talk to me any way he wants. He can text me sexually explicit material just because he wants....and somehow this is my fault. I asked for it.

I have a vagina, so this automatically means I asked for it.

Be aware of your power. Be aware of your privilege. Are you hurting someone? Check yourself.

-Denora

Sermon on John 6:48-59

Sermon: John 6: 48-59

“May you never hunger...” is a statement that is uttered during a ritual honoring the connective relationship between man, nature, and the Gods. It is a phrase I have said many times as I hand bread to a person next to me and they receive it. In many ways, bread symbolizes life for humanity. In a literal sense, bread can sustain us when we are hungry. The act of grinding grain, mixing it with water, and applying heat is a process that both uses energy and provides energy for the body to utilize. From a spiritual perspective, bread is the embodied representation of deity.

But what is the significance of the act of offering something to another? When I reach out my hand to offer bread to another, and by uttering the words “May you never hunger,” I’m not intending to say “I hope you never experience hunger again” in a literal sense because we all experience hunger on a daily basis. In some way I’m saying I hope you will never want for sustenance to sustain you—both physically and spiritually. I want you to always have your fill—your connection to humanity and the divine.

John 6:58 states: “This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.”

In this statement Jesus is referencing himself as the bread of heaven and the way to eternal life. In a sense, he is offering himself the way we offer when we reach out our hand with bread to another.

I want to backtrack a little to the statement of “That which your ancestors ate.” Two Greek terms are used in reference to eating in John 6: 48-59. The first is phago, meaning to eat, devour, and consume. It is a singular destructive action and we see this term in words like phagocyte and phagein. The other term is trogo, meaning to gnaw or chew, and stresses the slow internal process of taking in.

When the ancestors ate (phago) the manna given to them by God in the wilderness, it sustained them in a physical sense. It cured the temporary hunger that is part of the human condition. But it did nothing to sustain the spiritual hunger, or the connection to the divine and to each other. Each person gathered what they needed to sustain their physical form, but this distills each day to a process of gathering and consuming which brings no true satisfaction and fulfillment.

When Jesus says “The one who eats this bread will live forever,” he is using the continuous form of eat (trogo) to delineate the human need for continuous connection and the long, slow process of internalization that is not simply satisfied by a one-time encounter. Additionally, he is offering himself as one offers bread to another around the table of fellowship—building a relationship which is sustained over time. The act of internalization (trogo) provides the building blocks our body uses to renew itself over and over, creating a new and energized body that can focus on the world outside of the individual need to consume.

We are all familiar with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and how food is one of the first, basic foundational needs in order for us to survive and scale the pyramid to self-actualization. But what if, instead of a pyramid, our needs form a circle that is continuous and life affirming. When we reach a hand out to another and offer bread, we offer physical comfort as well as the connection to each other and to the divine that allows us to become the best version of ourselves. Instead of climbing over each other in an effort to reach the top of the pyramid, we are joined in the reminder that we all have needs—we hunger, we thirst, and we need each other. This is how I take Jesus’ words to heart, and why I feel it is the act of offering himself as the bread that is the connection. So in closing, I say “May you never hunger.” So mote it be.

When Crossroads Intersect

There is something to be said about pain. Not the physical kind necessarily, though that does deserve its own acknowledgement. I'm referencing emotional pain.

What is it about the capacity to wound without causing physical damage to another? How can we directly measure the level of pain we cause purposefully, much less inadvertently?

Do we worry about going through life intentionally trying to avoid pain? And can we grow as human beings without it?

I would argue pain is a byproduct of our capacity to love. When we love something or someone the last thing we want to do is hurt them, but in the end we might hurt them worse than anyone else.

It is in the midst of this pain that real growth happens. It is in the time of darkness that we truly grow to appreciate the light. I try and sit with this pain. Understand it. Acknowledge it and give it space to exist without judgement. What is my pain trying to tell me? How is pain in another manifested? Where do the two intersect?

If I cause you pain, is there a place where the mending makes us stronger?

Denora

The Space Between

Many things have changed recently, one of the most notable being my acceptance into a ten-week intensive CPE internship at Johns Hopkins. I can't say enough good things about the hospital's stance on religious pluralism, and how they incorporate spiritual health as a benchmark of overall health for the patient. Here's a bit from their homepage: http://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/pastoralcare/

Many people have asked me if it's an issue for me to exist in a primarily Christian institution (JHH has approximately 20% Catholic patients overall) and my answer is somewhere in the middle. On the one hand, I have willingly inserted myself into this system knowing that my spiritual beliefs fall into a minority category. However, for me the crucial piece revolves around the meaning of healing for the patient. If when I am praying with a patient and we have entered into a sacred space where our theological understandings meet, I feel the encounter holds positive merit. I do feel odd sometimes not disclosing my faith to patients. But then I have to ask myself, does that really matter? If we are all human and need love, and if I am bringing love to another person does it matter if I am doing it in the name of Jesus or the Goddess?

Blessings,

Denora

My Breastfeeding Journey

Few topics incite so many opinions or stones to throw as breastfeeding. There are adamant opinions on both sides of the fence (both for and against) and it seems now a days very much like the topic of how many children you should produce, people feel it is within their realm of expertise to comment on how you should be feeding your baby.

I'm going to write about MY journey. Not because I feel I am any type of expert, but because I believe it is important to acknowledge that each mother/baby pair is different. And while many many years ago the convenience of formula was not available or illness would make the situation much worse, we thankfully live in a day and age where a woman can choose for her and her offspring the method by which she will feed and nourish her child. Whether she is a stay at home mom or returning to work after six weeks, it's time we all left our collective egos at the door and acknowledge that no decision is ever taken lightly when it comes to the mother/baby bond.

I was hell bent and determined to do two things on becoming a mother: give natural birth and breastfeed my child for as long as he wanted to. I was blessed to at least get my first request. Unfortunately, post-partum depression, sleep deprivation, traveling for work and for school every month, a thyroid disorder, and stress has taken its toll on my milk supply. At three months I seriously considered weaning him to formula but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I kept up the good fight despite only making three, maybe four ounces a feeding and having to supplement with formula if he wanted more, not to mention not being able to pump enough to have a full supply for when I was out of town (which is often). I have made it past six months, almost to seven, and I must now begrudgingly admit it is time to wean him to formula. This is one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make and it goes against everything I believe in concerning natural child-rearing.

There is of course the guilt and the questions of why can't I do this if so many other women can? There is the shame of feeling like less of a mother. There is the pain of not having that bond with your child, not to mention the comments or looks when you're feeding him a bottle in public. (To be clear, these also happen when you're trying to breastfeed in public. See first paragraph) I'm in the middle of transitioning him, so of course the feelings are the most intense at the moment. I've had several well-meaning people tell me this is no big deal, he is perfectly healthy and I'm being silly. But let me reiterate: this is my journey. Mine and my son's. We decide what is best for us and I feel because of external factors I have had that chance taken away from me. Will this be the end of my world? Of course not. But don't demean my experiences in the name of trying to make it all seem trivial.

I am taking this step by step, day by day. I know with time this too will pass.

Denora

Ostara: Spring has Sprung

The wheel continues to turn, and now we've come to the Vernal Equinox. Ostara, that time when the daylight hours finally catch up to the night and darkness. We can feel winter's release from the land as it slowly retreats. I took my son outside the other day and we touched the plants just beginning to bud. The green life is just waiting to spring forth--it's so close!

Robins have come back and are grabbing worms out of the earth in the morning. The skinny squirrels, after a long and harsh winter season are hurriedly rushing around restocking and eating to gain weight. The groundhog that lives in my back yard and warned me of how harsh our winter would be looks like he has lost fifteen pounds. I can smell the earth finally thawing.

The sun on my skin feels new--not quite the intensity of summer, but just a kiss right now. The grocery stores are stocked with bitter greens; kale, asparagus, collard, arugula, bok choy...all these things to flush out the heaviness of winter foods that we've stored for so long. Our bodies yearn for movement, craving the fresh air.

The Vernal Equinox relates to balance, rebirth, renewal, and resurrection. The symbolism of the Easter egg is tied to fertility and the rebirth of the cosmos. The rabbit is also a symbol of fertility, in addition to its dual nature of dwelling in two worlds--underground and above ground thus its association with the earth and underworld. The Goddess is Maiden in all her glory, youthful and new. The God is coming into his maturity and the dance of their love is innocent.

This spring comes with new promise. New life, and new beginnings are in the air. Go outside, enjoy the sunshine, and celebrate that spring has sprung!

Our Karmic Legacy

I believe in Karma. I also believe in the prospect of pre-arranged contracts with the ones we love and those in our lives. Sometimes they stay, sometimes they go, but always with a lesson. Sometimes they stay forever because they are family.

I have a difficult time sometimes with Karmic contracts that keep us in a perpetual cycle of suffering. What is the lesson to be learned? Can we help another person or are we doomed to relive the past over and over without end? How much of another's suffering must we endure before we cut ties and can we ever truly walk away? These are challenges we all face, but we must ultimately grapple with the answers and the consequences of our actions.

What did we do in another life together? Can we be done hurting each other? Can the suffering end?

I love you.

Denora

In Memoriam: Judy Harrow

I first met Judy Harrow at my first Sacred Well Convention in 2010. My best friend and I had decided to go together and there were probably 80 or so people there. We ended up in the same cabin as roomies.

My first impression of her was curious--this woman was clearly respected in our community but I had not heard of her. She had a soft voice and a wisdom that drew me to her. As the weekend went on we listened to her around the fire or I caught small conversations with her about the Goddess and what it means to be a priestess. I remember her telling me about drawing down the moon and what that's like. After the conference I bought her book "Spiritual Mentoring: A Pagan Guide" and found that to be very insightful.

Throughout the years I have come to understand the threads that are woven in our community starting with our elders. They are the ones who have walked the path before us, but we are the ones who will carry the torch in their absence. Judy will leave many behind who have benefited from her teachings and her presence, including me. I can't say it any better than Taniquetil: "Sister Cliendori, may the Ferryman guide you safely to the Summerland."

Here is a Patheos post on her passing: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/themediawitches/2014/03/sad-sudden-loss-of-a-pagan-elder-rest-in-peace-judy-harrow/

Here is her information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judy_Harrow

The Children Dilemma

I don't want the title of this post to be misleading in any way. I love children. In fact, I have one of my own. I love him more than life itself, but I would be lying to you if I told you it was all sunshine and rainbows all the time. My best friend re-posted an article on Facebook and I had to write a post about it because this has been on my mind for a few months now:

http://thoughtcatalog.com/jamie-berube/2014/02/you-shouldnt-need-a-reason-for-not-having-kids/

This article touched on those who make the choice not to have children at all, but I want to add a group to this--the "one and done" folks. Folks like me who are seriously considering stopping with just my son.

But why stop at one? Aren't I afraid he'll be lonely? Doesn't he deserve a sibling? Won't he be spoiled? What happens if something happens to him?!

See, the inappropriate questions don't just stop if you're considering not having one at all. After you've had one the assumption is of course you'll add to your flock, and if you don't you're selling both yourself and your offspring short.

Here's a thought: the more I look at my little family, me, my husband, and my beautiful son--the more I realize I can devote so much to him that I wouldn't be able to do with more. All of my time, all of my resources, all of my love. He can do more recreational things in school because I can afford it if he wants. He can go to better schools if he wants. The cost of living is expensive in the Northeast. And then there are the reasons that are taboo to talk about...I want my body back. This birth was so hard on my mental state, emotional stability, and my body. I have a thyroid disorder, I'm on antidepressants for post-partum depression. I miss the way my marriage used to be so effortless and now it's a little strained. I love breastfeeding him but it is so hard while I travel for school and the ANG. And I'm trying to jumpstart a career. I did seven years on active duty and now I want to do something meaningful for me.

So yes, I might be selfish. But ask yourself what is more selfish--bringing another human being into this world to fit some arbitrary ideal that there should always be more than one per family for "balance" purposes, or taking an honest assessment of my abilities and resources and devoting everything I have to what I have? Think about that next time you want to make any comments on a woman's decision to live her life with children or without.

Denora

Imbolc: Behold the Return of the Sun

The wheel of the year turns now to the coming of Spring and the shedding of Winter. It is Imbolc, Midwinter, and the face of the Goddess returns to her maidenhood. Here in the Northeast we are facing the threat of another snow storm--winter has not yet had its final say.

The days have been getting longer, the sun a little warmer in between bouts of snow. If you walk outside and listen hard enough you can almost feel and hear the trees and grasses stirring. Spring is coming. Geese are coming back. Birds are hailing the return of the sun. In our hearts we can feel the seasons changing and it brings us hope.

This is the time of year to think about resolutions. Generally we made those around January 1st--bright promises to lose weight or get a new job or buy a new car--but by now reality has set in and let us know if we were a little too ambitious. Now is the time to light the candles and open a window to let some fresh air in after the dark winter. We are looking forward to this year and all that comes with it.

This is the day of Brigid, mother of the flame and of poetry, healing, smithcraft, and midwifery. We honor her this day and light the sacred flame:

We honor you blessed mother, waters of life being renewed
We honor you young stag and sun child, eagerly awaiting your coming
The Sacred Wheel Continues to Turn,
We are reborn in the light of the new day

As a Pagan in modern times it is essential for me to connect with the energies of life and earth around me which keep me grounded. All too often we are running so fast we forget to stop and feel what our mother is saying to us in her own way--Spring is coming. Life is returning. The darkness is subsiding and my children can rejoice once more. Modern practices allow us to remember the symbolism of ancient rites. I light a white candle on this day to represent the Goddess and her sacred flame, reminding me to take the time to breathe and rejoice in the coming of the new day.

Variation on the Word Motherhood

My very best friend introduced me to a wonderful poem by Margaret Atwood titled "Variation on the Word Sleep." I loved it so much I asked her to read it at my wedding, but my favorite line goes something like this:

"I would like to give the the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief at the center of your dream, from the grief at the center. I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary."

Motherhood reminds me of something like this dichotomy. I want to protect my child from the world, yet I realize in time I must simply be the foundation upon which his independence took root--that unnoticed and yet that necessary. To do anything else is to disrupt what I fear is the delicate balance of life.

Another friend of mine recommended a book to help me struggle through the first few weeks of motherhood. I had what the modern day medical institution likes to term "baby blues" but what I would deem to be full on post partum depression mixed with "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing or what's going on" syndrome. The book is called A Life's Work: On Becoming a Mother by Rachel Cusk and it was momentous in helping me understand what I was going through was normal even though it felt about as far from normal as anything I've ever experienced. Motherhood in its infancy is messy and terrible, and this book does a pretty good job of highlighting some things you've thought about but never wanted to discuss: http://www.amazon.com/Lifes-Work-On-Becoming-Mother/dp/0312311303/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1384194412&sr=8-2&keywords=a+lifes+work

I've taken the liberty of highlighting some of the most powerful quotes that for me summed up everything in how I was feeling. I still can't say I'm over everything and running on all cylinders. I can however say I'm taking it day by day. I am better than I was and I continue to find balance in this new life. Some of the things she says in her book are horrible. They may even border on taboo in so much that she holds nothing back in her transition into parenthood and what it cost her. I can't say I haven't shared some of her thoughts...but these are the inner struggles of a very personal nature. I still wouldn't change anything.

"If parental love is the blueprint for all loves, it is also a re-enactment, a revision, an investigation of self-love. When I care for my child I revisit my own vulnerability, my primordial helplessness....Love is more respectable, more practical, more hardworking than I had ever suspected, but it lies close to the power to destroy."

--I am constantly shocked at the capacity of the human heart to love. Just when I feel like I can't possibly love my husband any more than I do I see him interact with our son and I love him all the more for being a wonderful father. The day my son came into this world my heart and the center of gravity of my world suddenly shifted to this tiny creature. It is exciting and frightening to think how much of me is wrapped into this cosmos of my family, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

"There is in truth no utterance that could express the magnitude of the change from woman or man to mother or father, and in the absence of definitive statement the subject becomes peopled with delusions and ghosts, with mis-apprehensions and exaggerations and underestimations, becomes separated from the general drift of human conversation, so that parenthood is not a transition but a defection, a political act."

--I constantly reflect on the change that happens when you become a parent. Suddenly the things that mattered so much before really have no bearing. You also become one of "them"--those individuals who seem obsessed with their children and that's all they can talk about. It isn't all of me, but it has become so much of me that to not talk about it is to not acknowledge the single most important shift in my life.

"Caring for him is like being responsible for the weather, for the grass growing: my privileged relationship with tie has changed, and though these tasks are not yet arduous they already constitute a sort of serfdom, a slavery, in that I am not free to go. It is a humbling change. It represents too a reckoning of my former freedom, my distance from duty. The harness of motherhood chafes my skin, and yet occasionally I find predictable integrity in it too, a freedom of a different sort: from complexity and choice and from reams of unscripted time upon which I used to write my days, bearing the burden of their authorship. It does not escape me that in this last sentiment I am walking over the grave of my sex. The state of motherhood speaks to my native fear of achievement."

"I couldn't spend a Saturday morning reading, that I couldn't stroll unfettered in the warmth of a summer's evening or go swimming or wander down to the pub for a drink. The loss of these things seemed a high, an exorbitant price to pay for the privilege of motherhood; and though much was given back to me in the form of my daughter it was not payment in kind nor even in a different coin, was not in fact recompense of any sort."

--I can't say this prison of my own making isn't uncomfortable. It's like trying on a new skin and realizing nothing about you is the same. The ups are new types of up while the downs are the deepest darkest recesses of hell. Labor and delivery constitute a test of which when passed only charges you head on into a new and complex existence that you aren't prepared for. Nothing prepares you for this.

"I know it is the hardest work I have ever done I worry that my execution of it has been somehow flawed and unauthentic, a burned offering, a botched canvas. Perhaps it is only children who confer upon their parents this meaning I feel myself to lack...I vow to own my feelings of inadequacy and in authenticity. I vow to end this succession, this history of ruler and ruled, here with me."

--The intense primal desire to do well, to have an impact on this precious life and so to give your life meaning is the reason for continuing. These variations on motherhood are the paint that fleshes out the canvas of our existence. Without these depths we are nothing. But they are terrifying in the light of one's internal reflection. I have only begun the great work of shaping not only my son's life, but striving to understand my own.

Denora

The Seasons Change

It's been five weeks since I gave birth to my son.

It's amazing how much things can change in even five weeks. I look outside and the leaves are changing and falling from the trees. The temperature has noticeably fallen and there is a distinct smell of autumn in the air whenever you walk outside. The squirrels are constantly eating and storing up for what I'm guessing is going to be a cold winter. In my mind I remember all the way back to January when I first learned I was pregnant and think...where did this year go? I spent the entire summer as big as a house and now here we are. This leads me to the next lesson along the path--seasons change.

My last post wasn't very sunny. I've been working through the intense emotions that come with leaving a seven year career and becoming a stay-at-home mom, not to mention the marathon that is pregnancy and delivery and new motherhood. I am horribly sleep deprived and on the steepest learning curve of my life trying to navigate the needs of this new life in my arms. There are days where I resent my decisions, not because they are bad but because in a way this feels like voluntary imprisonment and insanity. There are moments that make up for all of it--when my little one smiles at me and giggles it makes all of the craziness seem worth it. My point is I'm a work in progress. This life I'm building is some massive construction site and the bricks and mortar are laying everywhere. But the seasons are changing. I realized yesterday as I took my first jog around my block ever so slowly that my body despite being bent all kinds of ways is still healthy and strong. It's going to take a hell of a lot of work to get me back to where I was pre-baby and I may not even get there. The days of being (relatively) effortlessly in shape may be behind me. But this is the new season of my life as a mother. I read a very sobering article on post partum body image here: http://www.lalecheleague.org/nb/nbsepoct00p156.html

The same goes for the stay-at-home part. I read a fantastic article on that here:  http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/10/09/youre-a-stay-at-home-mom-what-do-you-do-all-day/
It helps me put these things into perspective when I stop thinking about all the things I gave up to stop working and think instead on all the things I'm gaining by being with my little one every day. I don't have to pay for daycare sure, but I also don't have to agonize over someone else raising my child and me only getting time with him on weekends. I realize everyday that the little signals he gives to let me know he needs something are his own language, and I can care for him better because I recognize it. I also think of the bonds we're building and I am crazy thankful everyday that my husband is hard working and loves his family and I can raise our kids.

These are the seasons of my life. They constantly change. But I'm getting slowly better at being OK with that.

Denora

The Untold Story

I wrote quite a bit during my pregnancy because for me it marked one of the most influential and amazing periods of my life. To this day I still marvel that my body was able to grow another living human and bring him successfully into the world.

Today I'm going to write on a bit of a darker topic. This by no means diminishes the joy and love I feel when I hold my son in my arms, but there are things that need to be said because I feel we as a society don't talk about certain topics or we brush over them and minimize their effect--then we wonder why so many people dance the line of suicide or worse. I'm writing as a way to cope with my own inner dialogue, and hopefully my words ring true enough to help someone in the future either talk to a friend or manage their own inner dialogue.

The first thing I want to address, and something we don't talk about is labor and delivery of humans. Women in America are exposed to an over-dramatized idea of what labor is like, how long it takes, and how painful it is--driving the majority of them to seek some sort of external pain management either through an epidural or by c-section. I have my own feelings about the ability of a woman's body to do something it has done without medical intervention for millenia, but for the sake of keeping this simple I will just limit it to saying I gave birth naturally with no medical intervention. I was very blessed to have an outstanding birth team (both midwives and my doula) and I labored for thirteen hours with my son. No one tells you how excruciating, frightening, wonderful, and empowering this experience can be. Women no longer tell you the empowerment behind birthing another soul because they are so afraid of the process and hospitals have capitalized on continuing to feed that fear. In the throws of labor a woman meets her maker and finds out the absolute limits of her body. It is a terrifying experience and one that leaves you scarred, but also gives you the most satisfying sense of accomplishment. In the end though you are reduced to a shaking, sweating, painful mess no matter how you give birth. This rite of initiation into motherhood is just the beginning.

The next thing I want to address is the aftermath. They say that "baby blues" are the normal fallout following childbirth as your system fights to regulate the cocktail of hormones that flowed through you both during pregnancy and labor. People come and go, bring you food, hold  your baby, offer to cook for you and help you clean, and you are an emotional mess. You are ridiculously in love with this small human, and yet your body is now inextricably tied to its survival. You cry for no reason, you just want to be by yourself, you hate the changes in your body, and you are now a slave to this lifestyle. You don't sleep, you can't have sex, and despite your best efforts sometimes the baby just cries and cries. You have lost yourself in the folds of this new life. It feels like you're drowning. If this goes on for too long it's labeled as depression and people become uncomfortable. They want you to seek medical help.

No one tells you these things when you become pregnant or before. Well, I'm putting these things out there. My life is forever changed. I am grateful beyond measure, but stop minimizing my experiences to Hollywood versions of labor and shining happy parenthood afterwards. I feel like there are many women who go through this and not enough resources that don't involve psychologists and medication. When you are silently suffering on the inside the last thing you want is to explain yourself to every person who asks how you're doing.

Denora

A Prayer for My Unborn Son

As the time of my imminent labor approaches the only word I can use to describe my state of mind is philosophical. The desire to want to do the right thing is so strong, which is odd because the "right thing" is a flexible concept at best.

The best I can come up with is this post on what I would say to my son if he were sitting in front of me and could understand the gravity of my love:

First of all I want you to embrace life. Not in a canned or standard "live life to the fullest" sentiment--but a full on soul scraping tumble with life as it comes. I want you to drink, and eat, and make love, and fight, and delve into the depths of your own existence until you have no choice but to embrace your broken humanity and choose to make something of it. Don't hobble through this life or "make due" just because it's easy. Join the Peace Corps, or the military, or sell all of your belongings and spend some time as a monk--but whatever you do please do it fully and without regret.

Honor. Honor thy mother and father, but also thyself and all living things placed upon this existence as they are reflections of the divine.

Play. Play to the fullest extent this life can offer. Roll and tumble and get dirty. Make something with your hands and appreciate the wonder that can only exist in the human imagination.

Love. Grapple with this concept every day of your life. What does it mean to love? What is unconditional love? How do we love, and how do we make sense of all our failings when it comes to loving ourselves and others? Understand that I love you more than I can express even though we've never met, and all I have is the feeling of you next to my heart. I will cherish you all the days of my life and I can only promise to teach you the things I have learned and hope to support you in your journey. I am honored you chose me to be your mother.

This is my prayer for you my son.

Blessings,

Denora

Claiming Your Power (Recognizing Your Divine Right)

In a world where we are constantly bombarded with expectations, it can be difficult to remember one key point: We are not just physical beings inhabiting this physical space. We are in fact spiritual beings temporarily inhabiting this physical space for a purpose. This often gets lost in the minutiae of everyday existence.

I learned a very important lesson today that boils down to recognizing your divinity. This comes in a variety of forms, but one of the most basic involves the divine right to love and respect. All beings in this existence have this right, though the concepts and how to apply them are muddled way too often. Additionally, it can be difficult to remember this goes both ways. Love and respect are not something to be earned--they are not arbitrary objects to be quantified or subjectively given. They are universal concepts to be applied to every living thing in every situation, regardless of differences of opinion.

This is the first step in recognizing your divinity. And it is a powerful lesson to remember when you feel powerless or defenseless.

Blessings,

Denora

The Clearing

Today I out-processed from both my unit and active duty.

A momentous decision, and one that comes with extreme excitement for the future with just a tinge of trepidation. I can only compare the feeling to slowly walking to the edge of a cliff, looking down, and then closing your eyes and jumping with full abandon into the unknown.

Not completely unknown...I start classes again in January and I managed to find what promises to be an interesting job with the Pennsylvania Air National Guard. These things help ground me and remind me of the connections I have built and continue to cultivate. In the end I am eager for the next chapter in my life with my new family and new horizons. Let the adventure begin!

Bright Blessings,

Denora

Through the Forest...

Time has a way of changing perspectives, and life has a way of changing depending on which perspective you are using. If you had told me a year ago that I would be purchasing a home, having a baby, and separating from the Air Force I probably would have laughed at the thought--but perspectives change.

My separation package has gone all the way through AFPC. I have orders in hand. And I am completely at a loss as to what my life will entail come 1 August 2013. My first reaction was fear--fear of not having income, fear of not having the Air Force to fall back on for so many things; the foremost being a sense of purpose and of identity. When you serve your country even for a short amount of time there is a shift that occurs in your mentality. You have become a brother or sister in arms and so much of who you are becomes engrained with the uniform. I can appreciate the identity crisis that occurs in folks who have done 20 years or more. Half of your life has been lived serving and now you are free. What do you do after that? Where do you go? I haven't served for 20 years, but I have served long enough that my professional identity is that of an Air Force officer...I don't know anything else.

You have to look in the mirror and begin to focus on who you are outside of the military. I am a seminary student. I am a soon-to-be mother. I am a wife. A daughter. A friend. I have a home and I have two hands and will develop a new identity as time goes by. I will always cherish the time I served. I am thankful to have had the opportunity and for all the amazing people and places I've been. But there is a new chapter in my life that is beginning. I'm excited for the possibilities to come. I want to start my own business. I need to finish my degree so I can begin helping others in a new way. We think the path is always so clear in the moment...what happens when you hit the forest?

Blessings,

Denora

The Strength of a Child

This past weekend I once again had the amazing opportunity to support a program that I feel is truly making a difference for young people. I've been doing this for five years and every year reaffirms so many things for me--children are so amazing in their capacity to internalize and cope with huge life-changing events like losing a parent or loved one in war or other circumstances.

The program is called TAPS: Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors and information on them can be found here: http://www.taps.org/

Besides the National Good Grief Camp which is held annually in Washington D.C., TAPS also has a myriad of regional camps and activities for families of fallen service members throughout the year. The message we are determined to send is even though your loved one is gone, the military family has not forgotten you--you are important and still very loved.

The reason I keep coming back every year has nothing to do with political beliefs or any reasons other than the true human connection that can exist between hundreds of family members and service members. For four days we coexist in a beautiful partnership to celebrate and remember those who have passed, and as mentors we are privileged to witness the growth of children into young adults. Our only wish is to help these young men and women realize their potential and recognize the beauty of human strength. These children are amazing and they evoke the strongest emotions even in the most stalwart of us who are called to serve.

My heart goes out to all of these families and I hope to still be able to serve for years to come in this capacity. I think this program answers a crucial need in a society who has faced over a decade of active combat--how do we best take care of people when we continuously expose them to the horrors and violence of combat? How do we make sure our children recognize the necessity of their existence, to be the next generation of Americans who will make the hard decisions in this country? The answers I think surprise everyone in their breadth and complexity. I listened to a fourteen year old tell a story about social pressure and suicide, but reaffirm that death is only a temporary release of the pain and would no doubt cause more unnecessary suffering for their family. These are issues we hope no child ever has to face, and yet there are hundreds who have and many more who haven't found help yet. I feel truly blessed to be able to reach out and touch another human being in that capacity, and thankful we have such loving support for each other.

Blessings,

Denora