I want to tell you about March.
March looked like the silky ribbons of sweet cream swirling in a mug of extra dark coffee. The cream has yet to expand, permeate, and blend into that beloved cafe con leche hue.
But the ribbons twirl, swirl, and whirl. They mingle. The spoon is ready to give the mug a quick mix.
I dreaded March. I dreaded March because it didn't hold the same freedom as February. I began the month in circle with women, creating mala beads infused with intention. We took turns introducing ourselves and naming our wishes and intentions. What did we want to manifest. Each woman spoke of things I deeply understood. Love. Self Love. Time. Energy. And then it was my turn. I wished for ease in my relationships, in my undertakings, in the way I parent, in the way I love and interact, and in the way I treat myself. Things were becoming less difficult and now I wished for space to allow ease in. I hold those beads and pray upon them 108 times a day, exhaling surrender, imbibing ease from each wooden piece, my talisman.
I gave into March at the mid point when my daughter crossed into a new year. Another petal explosion in her blossoming. And oh, is it ever so sweet. She is confident, empowered, vibrantly alive in her young body. I remember her as a baby, active and always looking for the next thing. This is how she moves in the world and what a sight to witness when you have the knowledge of being exactly there where she was. How things fold over again and come full circle, fully integrated, like the mixing of the cream + coffee.
I celebrated in March when my love left one decade and breezed into another. 50 years. 25 of them with me. Half of his life. More than half of mine. In a room full of family and friends, love bubbled up and held him through the night as we ate, and drank, and danced in his honor. He is not used to being celebrated so he shed tears of overwhelm in a room filled with people he felt safe with. That night I held him until the sun came up. "Thank you for being that man and husband that you are." My whispers to him. And again I close my eyes in gratitude.
I dreaded March. There was much planning and organizing to tend to mingled with leisurely walks around the city, around my heart, around my home, the dark waters of the soul. Shadow play.
It was a month of contemplation, celebration, and laying the foundation of what is to come. I dreaded March because of the moments I didn't want to see through. I dreaded March because you can't get it back once it's over.
March gave me much to chew on. My friend who I adore, sees in me things I could never imagine for myself. Yet once she says things out loud, I am there in a new role and visioning what my future self looks like {my future self is working it like a maven}. The creative opportunities that lie ahead scare. the. crap. out. of. me BUT the only way is through, right? It's like praying with the malas, bead by bead.
I saw March to the end and it will always live in a place I can access freely. April is work. April is finalizing what my workshop will look like. April is prepping my summer course, The Holy Hush for a new circle of women. April is a deep blue ocean of preparation for all of the opportunities that came to me last month and proving that I can float easily in the salty water.
I'm not dreading April. Not at all. April for me is the other side.
