soul keepers

Ever Sophia, Love, pretty things, soulfood

In the past three months I have traveled physically, mentally, emotionally. I have unpacked my bag of family and school stress laid it out on my bed and evaluated it. Then I repacked my bag with neatly folded and tucked layers of uncertainty. Replaced despair with question marks. There’s a new grip on my sanity. It’s always seems to be a different version of the same fist doesn’t it.

Diagnosis- anxiety.
Comorbidity- exhaustion.
Treatment plan- trust.

Early this summer I kicked off two weeks of release with a one night camping trip with my baby girl. It was hands down the sweetest moments that we have shared maybe ever. Ev is her father’s daughter, she loves all things outdoors and is relentlessly handy. Ever-v-Woods I’d put my money on her every time.


We put up our tent at dusk. Walked to the lake, stood breathless at the infinite perfection of our Earth. Came back, set up the rest of camp by lantern. Ate raw s’mores and tucked ourselves into our tent sans rain flap so that we could take in the sky.


When was the last time that you were in the middle of no where and looked at the stars? If it has been awhile, clear your schedule, just go, do it. It’s unbelievable. More than stars, the galaxy. Perspective. Guaranteed dumbfounding beauty.

We laid there in that tent on the waters edge, lulled to sleep by the croaky growl of bull frogs. Directly above us perfectly framed by our tent poles hovered the big dipper. I took the opportunity to share a Lakota story that I had learned the weekend prior at a sweat lodge about a Lakota female ancestor spirit that lives in the very center of the big dipper. I will proceed to butcher what is truly a beautiful tradition because I don’t remember all of the details and the oral tradition (thankfully) evades the powers of Google. This ancestor spirit acts as the gate keeper of all souls. Souls travel to new babies born on Earth through a portal of sorts in the middle of the big dipper and when we die we all return to that place. A shooting star is the soul traveling across the sky, a baby being born.

And just then, in the middle of the constellation- brilliant and tactile as we lay simply in awe, the brightest most distinct shooting star that I have ever seen blazed directly across the stary ladle.

“Wow! Did you see that Mommy?!?!?”
“How could I not”.

It still gives me chills. Hums a low this place, your place, our collective being is bigger than you can ever conceive. And for 9 hours and counting every day our world goes still and quiet begging for you to look up. To witness the spray of magic breathing and burning in perfect unison with all that is. To swaddle you in her spangled darkness of destiny.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s