I wanted to type up the rest of the days of giving tonight, have them wrapped and ready for everyone to read.
But I am a tired mama, with drooping eyes, and a contented heart. I am needing very much to crawl into bed as I am still recovering from our grueling weekend with our sick little baby. Who is, thankfully, feeling better.
So the rest of the days will come tomorrow.
Because this is how it is for me. A constant rolling with the punches. Mothering has taught me to listen to my instincts, pay attention to what my body is telling me, don’t get too attached to plans.
It must be a sensory thing, an ancient instinct that helps to keep our little ones alive, safe and sound.
And there are many simple things that we have forgotten, or have been taught to ignore. We must remember the basic rules: Sleep when you are tired, eat when you are hungry, go outside when you want to go outside, cry, loud and hard, when you are sad. Love deeply.
And tonight my body says sleep.
So, instead , I invite you to listen to an interview I did this afternoon with my brilliant friend Kate Loving Shenk via her internet radio program.
We discussed the ideas behind The Year of Black Clothing project, sit spots, 40 days of giving, mourning and grief, happiness, love, and many other things big, and small.
Please listen if you can and pass it to friends. Sometimes you can hear more in the telling of a story than in the reading of it; say more in the speaking of it than in the writing of it.
Many thanks to Kate for having me on her show.
Thank you for listening,
And a gorgeous and true guest piece by my amazing friend, fellow activist and lover of the world, Rob. He’s gifted us with these song lyrics tonight. They are so beautiful, we are so blessed to have them here. I love this very much, it speaks to my heart. Thank you Rob.
Writes Rob, “It is a true story from a vision I had while walking down Bryn Mawr Ave in Bryn Mawr Pa.”
As I walked past a Sycamore grove
I saw the ghost of where I used to live
I swear I saw life though nothing had moved
no messages or warnings were left to give
I saw my family standing barefoot
standing tall and straighter than reeds
I saw their chests filled up with their lungs
filled up with the air and fire they breathe
their gaze was staring without condemning
the depth of their pupils was never ending
their eyes were fixed upon the horizon
out where the sky enters the stream
my feet were yearning to be planted in dirt
my skin aced to be scratched by thorns
a car drove past me it showed no concern
as I took a step further from where I was born
the path I was on cut deep through the wood
the trees were dropping their fruit and their seed
they will cast down for thousands of years
until this road has been conquered by weeds
I stopped and stared and got lost in the scene
feeling as though I’d been here before
I was a ghost child who’d gone astray
and now I was standing at my front door
it was then that I knew that all was not lost
that we never left our birthplace and home
the gifts we’ve been given are waiting for us
to dig them back up out of the loam
the world we have built is just a mirage
our children cry out for what they’ve always known
the branches of trees are their open arms
calling us back into the shadows
but before I took one more step
I heard a voice crying in the wilderness
“Lord almighty, where are we going?
We are blind to the path we’re walking.
There is no road stretched before us
if we don’t know where we come from.”