Fw: BirthLove Column

December 3, 2002

I personally REALLY enjoyed this ...

*Smile*Chris (list mom)

http://www.alittleolfactory.com

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All that is Dark and Beautiful, Beheld in Her Eyes

Alone and preoccupied she sat on her Throne. In her hair were stars; in her eyes were the black depths of Time. In her gaze was weariness, endlessness: in her gaze was tired patience, and dark brooding.

Her enemy was strange. He was a he- a he who infected shes to the degree where shes no longer functioned as shes- but lived within the realm of the evil hes. Not that all hes were evil, of course... only some were. And the sum of the some weighed more than the mass of the all; that is- a small influential band of medical infidels overthrew her worldly queendom; and where there had been lush femaleness and passion, there was now sterility, and barren waste.

She could remember the time when all looked up to her, called her name... her mysterious, hidden name- not by her actual name, but by the thought which was the translation of it. "Birth" recalled the times when women would simply give birth- without thought to banishing all naturalness, or putting their faith in the fallacies of Men. Before- "it is in God's hands." Now- "what does the Doctor say?" She knew that in these Godless times, people still needed gods- so instead of going a few levels deeper within themselves to find where true holiness lay, they created new gods- false idols; "Birth" knew that her timeless influence, for most, had withered away.

To Birth this was painful. "They don't believe in me anymore," she would

say- wordlessly of course- to herself. "The fathers have dictated to the mothers, and the fathers dictated that I be replaced by images of Men. It is not my way to count 'contractions' and heart beats- it is my way to be cloaked in darkest night, and give life where life is to be given- and take back to the Universe that which needs be taken away. I give far more than I take... yet I am accused of taking more than I give. I, in my natural ways- I..."

She looked earthbound to see what she could see. In a sweeping glance she beheld it all- hospitals, like little furnaces- groaning and emitting smoke; and flickers of light where natural birth was occurring. And warming her ancient soul were pregnant women: they were lifting their hearts up to her- she could feel them. She wanted to reply by warming them back- but before she could breathe gentleness and life into them, they turned their faces away... and looked to their false idols instead. This grieved her deeply.

She turned her starry head, and with her glance she scanned the hearts of women who shared their love and wisdom with anyone who would listen; she breathed gentle approval towards them- tried to show them that in their encroaching weariness of heart and tiredness of mind, that there was an endless reservoir of strength and giving that was open to them; that there were ways to be empowered in the true service of Birth- and that the service was important, and each of her many daughters was beautiful, and beloved.

But most daughters turned away. They got tired too quickly; a few were lazy. Others were unable to sustain their lives, in practical ways, while pursuing the calling of helping Birth back into the hearts of women. "Give, give, give-" they would say- "all I do is give, and get nothing back. I can't do this anymore." Then they would hang up their "shingles", as it were, and retreat into the public sector (the "mainstream"), away from the private dominion of Birth. Weary of the seemingly endless and senseless call to serve, they forgot for a while- and stomached their revulsion and pain at so many wounding medical births.

But others could not forget. They recalled the pain and passion of Birth- they recalled their deepest, truest calling to serve and were brought back into the dark, holy realm. They figured out how to survive by being active: users of their work paid them for their gentle purpose and careful giving; then they could eat and pay their rent- then they could have the strength to carry on.

Friends were important too, of course. How could one woman stand alone and screaming against a tidal wave of allopathic birth violence? Hands joined, a web of women floated and wildly rode the crazy tide that was medicalized birth. They joined hands with words and rapid-fire spirit on the Internet, and power and support flowed through screens all over the world. Birth saw this and was glad...

Birth beheld her daughters holding hands across the Earth: just a little blue and white ball in all her ancient, beloved cosmos. Earth was so dear to her somehow- the thriving life of the planet was breathtaking (for those who have breath); and the primary keepers of the life had come to be the humans. And... if they could not love their own lives and births, how could they love any others? This worried her deeply.

But Birth wearied of this circular thinking. She cared little for the personal politics of species- she needed a return output of energy, the blast of love and life that come flowing sweetly out of creatures when they give birth in peace and beauty. This energy was withering, and she felt that she was dying. Her eyes were so, so cold- her hair that was full of stars felt as if it would fall out. In her wearying in this rapid age of Men she was decaying- and... she, in her heart of hearts, worried that she would never get strong again.

Thus Birth waits on her Daughters to help her back up from her fall. She knows that trust will come again- and that within the beloved trust of women will new life grow. And, when she is fed with the love of many, stronger yet she will become- and radiantly will she knock the false idol down, once and for all. Then many marvelous things will come to pass: peace and beauty, power and art- reverence and sexuality that is equal and loving; no more porn kings, no more victimization of women. When "Birth"- ultimately indomitable, sweetly irresistible- reigns free again; that is- when women claim their power and beauty and give love back to the Universe- will true Power be born. And the world will know so much less pain... will you daughters help her make the sacred time happen?

Birth drops her eyes, and look back within herself. She muses dark thoughts about the seeming endlessness of pained days... she looks to the dim light of the future- where freedom, artistry and bliss will reign- radiant; glowing; prideful; victorious- the future is now, for those who choose to regard it as such.

(Birth bows, leaves the stage and retreats to the Cosmos where all is ordered and dark. When enough souls lift their love up, she will come back again- but she is always here anyway, in brooding thought, gentle countenance, stars and darkness of night- Birth is all around us, in the very shimmering air that we breathe...)

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BirthLove gently holds the future of birth in the ways of today. <http://www.birthlove.com> Unassisted birth, waterbirth, gentle midwifery, empowered cesareans if there is no other way- BirthLove loves women and babies best.

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