We walked the labyrinth again this year. Yes, six months ago, and I’m telling you now.
I’m telling you now because I am still walking that labyrinth.
And that’s a beautiful thing.
This year, we went to the giant gorgeous church on the hill, on New Year’s Eve. It was cold and dark and our breath blew smoke in front of us. We entered the lobby, and then the church. We found a place to put our coats and shoes, and then we stood in line.
Mica didn’t want to stand in line.
He wanted to be held. He didn’t want to be held.
He didn’t want to walk the labyrinth.
Rom took him to another area — I felt relieved because I wanted to walk the labyrinth and I felt sad because I wanted to walk the labyrinth together, with Rom.
But it was our turn to go in, and Orlando and I went in. There was heartbreakingly beautiful live music playing, and candles, and dark, and the labyrinth.
And people. So many people, perhaps even some of the same people that Mica scooted around last year.
Orlando and I walked together, and at each turn I looked up for Rom and Mica, but soon I wasn’t seeking them out anymore.
I was walking.
And then Mica did want to walk the labyrinth, and Rom let him down and Mica started zooming all over in his signature labyrinth style. Not running but not walking. Concentrating. He does his own thing. I walked with him as much as I could, corralling him and smiling “excuse us” at passersby.
Then we were at the final turn, and we walked in, Mica barreling ahead, Orlando walking reverently, and me, the mother of two children. I sat down on my knees in the center circle, and Mica came into my lap.
I breathed in to his hair and said, “I am glad you came, Mica.”
And then the tears, “I am glad you came.”
The tears came, those tears I didn’t know were there, and I held my second-born child, the child born to the me who was breaking down, who broke down. The tears came, telling me that I was glad he came, that he was born to me, that I really, really was, and that I never really knew it until then. Which made me cry more.
In the center of the labyrinth.
My children sat with me, we sat there a long time, and I cried.
. . .
And then we walked out. Rom and I met again, and we were all together, and we could smile and laugh and Rom kept saying, “He’s the unbinder.”
I knew what he meant, totally. Mica has a way.
And months later, I was telling someone this story, and they told me, “And he was your unbinder, too.”
Yes, Mica came and made me the mother of two. A mother who fell apart, who put herself back together again.
I am still welcoming him, over and over again, into my lap, where there is room.
+ + +
{A leftover technical bit: I couldn’t change the name of the RSS feed on my end, so if you were subscribed before it still might say Mama-Om. If you’re up for it, it’s easy to change in your own reader, just click Feed Settings, then Rename Subscription, and then type in Sweet Sky. Thank you!}
to updates and extras
Oh my! Just, oh my.
I too have walked a labyrinth – when I completed my yoga teacher training. It was so deeply spiritual, like being ordained. (I remember crying as I walked it – the power in the journey ripping me open slightly) Perhaps that is how it felt for you? Ordained into motherhood? Ordained as a mother of two?
Either way, incredible. I cried and got shivers and understood exactly what you meant. So much love and beauty in your words, in your heart.
Love you,
Debbie
This is so beautiful! I have been thinking for a while about walking a labyrinth as I feel there are many things that need to fit into place, one way or another. I need to give myself the space.
The space! Oh what a hard thing to find… but find I must
Thanks for sharing this!
x
It is never too early for a morning cry! Thank you for the image of my child as my unbinder. For me it is my first born, and my second born was sent to be my rock as my older one undoes me again and again. Contract and expand, bind and unbind, and find yourself in the moment of each experience.
Much love,
Andrea
Andrea recently posted…Appreciation
Ah, I have an unbinder. I was so sure of everything before he came. I now often think the whole reason for *me* is *him*. My life lesson. My little tests. My whole heart.
denise recently posted…details
*shivers*
My second is my unbinder too. I like that word. I’ve caught myself saying to others that my first child is my “easier” child, and yet I’ve also seen that “easier” sometimes means “more compliant” or less “boat-rocking.” I’ve also seen lately that the unbinding has led me to new skills, a larger way of seeing and being. And it’s not easy, compliance is so much easier, but I too am glad my second born came to us, to open us up to a gentler way of being, with her and with ourselves.
6512 and growing recently posted…curiosity
Oh, so beautiful.
Janice recently posted…Night terrors resulting from vaccinations
what a lovely post. May I ask is the labyrinth you mention rethorical and if not what exactly is it? My first born is my unbinder. He is so spirited so sweet so gentle yet so agressive and I love him oh so much and my sweet girl is just a smiling cuddle even when not happy.
melissa aka equidae recently posted…Yes you are- and you guys look amazingly happy tog
Melissa, there is a real labyrinth that I’ve walked, each year on New Year’s Eve. A local (progressive) church here offers the walk each year — they clear the center of the church and set down a giant cloth labyrinth. There is a picture of what it looks like in last year’s labyrinth post here.
But it is also metaphorical — a labyrinth is one way of accessing the deeper spiritual meaning of our lives, but there are countless other ways, including simple quietness. So when I said “I am still walking that labyrinth” I meant it metaphorically.
It was a way for me to call out my ever growing understanding of spiritual meaning as integral to our lives.
I hope this helps to clarify!
Wow, this post really rattled me. Thanks for putting into words a feeling I’ve been having over here but hadn’t really realized I’ve been having. Zar is our unbinder. Had some tears over it, and a lot of discussion.
Beautiful, and here I sit in tears with my second-born on my lap, wondering when I will have that moment, or those ever-unbinding moments.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted…Wordless Wednesday- The brothers meet
This post reminded me so much of that raw period of time in our lives as we settled into life with our second child. It seems a common experience for so many families and mothers. Your description of it all is so transformational, moving and poetic at the same time.
I had to share a link to it with my community this weekend on my link-share. Hope you don’t mind.
Much love to you and your family!
http://rosiedreams.com/favorites-for-the-week/
Jeanine Ertl recently posted…All Alone Part I
[...] Along with St. Nicholas’ Day earlier this month, and our upcoming New Year’s labyrinth walk (and releasing ceremony), I am feeling really good about our [...]