Our time at the River house is drawing to an end. I have loved the contrast of environmental ambience, from my tropical rainforest familiarity… to the crisp, seasonal colours of my beloveds homeland. The hillside across the Susquehanna has slowly transitioned into a shade of burnt orange and with the harshness of winter creeping in, I can’t help but feel how my heart has softened to this place.
The river, she sings to me… tales of the old people of this land, and with her ebb and flow I remember them, offering my prayers of gratitude. Their flesh is all but gone now, their tongue silenced by guns from long ago… but their dance is still strong! I feel the pulse of the ancient ones in the wind and I witness ceremony in the falling leaves. I am reminded of potent words of wisdom, shared long ago by a dear friend on route to Uluru.
“Before we walk forward, we must honour those who have walked before us.”
I give thanks for my time here and purposefully imprint my mind with fond memories of laughter, deep conversations and healing. There is majick in this season, a certain sense of nostalgia permeates the air… one that I have not known, but in a sense, it feels as though I’m stuck between worlds, looking back through the timeless pages of autumn’s forgotten memoirs.
I am caught by the beauty of the Earth and her cycles and synchronistically, my own cycle returns with grace. As I embrace the changing season, I am reminded of my own seasons of wombman and the threshold of life and death that we embody naturally. As I shed for the first time post-partum, I release that part of me that no longer exists in this time and place. Now a mother of two beautiful daughters, I walk in the celebration of knowing that my womb is a container for creation, and whilst there is no plans to nurture another child inside for a while, there is certainly alot of exciting things brewing! Perfect timing for Halloween Symbols really!
I honour my body, my womb and my dreaming.