In the home of my parents in Cebu, Philippines…7,700 miles away from my life in California. My father struggles to find ease and comfort after his last bout of congestive heart failure. He reaches for the oxygen for some help. Lightly touches his stomach, moaning a little at its queasy, nauseating feeling. All the various medications are playing havoc on his weakened system. His arms are thin and frail-looking. He sits, as if waiting for something…not sure what. My heart breaks open — again.

I had arrived four days ago with both great excitement and great trepidation. Eager to be of help, be a source of comfort, be the good serving daughter. They were excited too, and so happy I had come home to be with them at this time. I was relieved to see my father looking healthier than how I had imagined on the 16-hour flight over, given the reports about his weakening heart and his labored breathing and his challenged kidneys. And to see my mother holding up her own, feisty and active as ever.

Like a fresh wind coming through their bedroom, I set up overseas video Skype calls between my father and each of his other children, all still in the US and unable as yet to come. Papa would always put on a nice shirt before the camera would come on. And it was always a good time. My siblings would comment on how good he was looking. On good days he would tease and say, “Did you say I looked good, or that I was good-looking?” We would laugh and go on to talking about the surprising economic upturn in the Philippines and his theories on why that would be so or about the last match of the famous and beloved Filipino world welter weight boxing champion Manny Pacquiao. On not-so-good days, he would say, “I am hanging in here. Hanging on straws. I hope the stem cell research moves forward, now that Obama has lifted the ban on funding for this. It would very much help many of us with debilitating brain, heart, and spinal cord diseases.”  To this, we would squirm and both lightly and seriously say, “Let’s hope the straws become stems soon, Papa.” And we’d move on. Papa would always feel buoyed and energized by those calls. Sometimes, after, he’d be exhausted and go off to sleep.

But, as the days started to unfold slowly, in the quiet ticking of the hours of being with both of them, separately and together, I began to notice an uneasiness. It became heightened when I would help out with things like switching out an empty oxygen tank and replacing it with a full one, or handing out medications, and other seemingly simple things like this. Papa would give out detailed instructions and wanted every single thing to be just so. “No, not that way”, he’d instruct. “Move it to the left, a little bit more, a little bit more, no too much. No, that’s not right.” And my mother would respond with a tiredness and irritation in her voice…and then, I began to notice it in my reactions as well — though mostly unvoiced. An “Oh, what’s the use” or “I was right the first time” or “It always has to be your way” kind of pattern had begun to take on some life. It was an old pattern I’d grown up with and only knew too well. This was –ugh- not good…and I knew immediately that, left unattended, this would very quickly be an untenable situation…for all of us.

Then yesterday — I forget what had stimulated it – perhaps just sitting there flicking through one of my mom’s magazines, I looked up at my father sitting on the side of the bed. Quiet, hardly moving. Somehow, for the very first time since I got here, I REALLY, REALLY looked at him….looked and took in what was going on with him. His movements, his breathing, the way he bent his head. And, I realized that before that moment, I barely looked or touched him. I mean, yes I kissed and hugged him, but there was a layer of something — a bravado, a put-on-a-hopeful-face, a it’s going to be alright, or a feistiness – that though they were more pleasant than doom-&-gloom, they also shielded us from seeing what we needed to see. I had separated myself from both of them for fear of what I would learn about his condition and their life. I was afraid of how I’d feel or if I would crumble under the sadness of seeing them both in a state of need, depletion, perhaps fear. How would it feel if I truly let it all in? What if the veil were to slip away and I’d no longer be able to protect myself?

So, yesterday, sitting alone with Papa while Mama was upstairs in the attic, somehow, that guarded film of denial, fear, whatever, slipped off and I saw him and took him in — and my heart just broke open with love and compassion for him. For, no matter how difficult and domineering and controlling he has been and can be, he has also been and is so loving and generous and accepting of all of us, and while he used to be strong, fast, agile, he was now also weak, hurting, slow. It’s as if the whole past slipped away and just brought me to this present moment…and to the whole and beautiful being he is — gifts and flaws!

I knew the only way I could survive this time with them, and be of real service to them, is to let it all go. To come to this time and embrace it for the sacred and the Grace there is here. To listen deeply from my heart for the needs, the requests and move with deep gratitude for this chance to be of help in some way. To let Papa — and Mama, too — say EXACTLY how they’d like it to be and not argue with it or defend myself against it. To do so in as whole, complete and graceful (as I can muster) action.

This is my calling, my meditation, my practice at this time. And I know I will stumble, my ego slipping back in place (it truly is quite dastardly and conniving, our egos), but I also know in a way I never have before, that whether I’m right or wrong or did it right or wrong or how good a help I am or not, IS NOT THE POINT. It’s what can I do and with how much love can I do it with to have them feel I’ve truly heard them, seen them, honor and respect their needs and wishes and move to act with grace and love. The least and only thing I can do is love them with all I can…and be glad for the opportunity to experience such a love.

For in the end - I bow to the wisdom of this - I’d rather be feeling the sadness and rawness of every moment I have, am, and will share with them than the deadening feeling of being safe, contained and strong…and apart. That night of the first day the veil started to slip, I crawled into bed, exhausted, and cried and cried myself to sleep. Woke up in the middle of the night and cried and cried again. My heart breaking — open. And it will break again and yet again. Its well is deep and vast.

Thank you, Papa and Mama, for this time.

I have always been curious about words… their origin, their apparent meaning, and their embedded or double meaning. As many of you know, I also enjoy revising the meaning to words so they hold a more intentional impact.

A word that caught my fancy recently was one we hear far too often these days: overwhelmed. Everywhere I turned, I hear the word in conversation, experience it in everyone’s attitudes, and witness the result on people’s faces.

Honestly I, too, had a week that tempted me to concur, however, remembered the words of Mother Teresa,

“I know God will never give me more than I can handle, I just wish He didn’t trust me so much.”

Her cantankerous commitment to optimism reminded me to take a deep breath and look again from a different view-point.

With her whispering in my ear, I insisted on believing there has to be a better way than despair, and somehow had it in me to refuse to succumb to this overwhelmed perception that only leads to feeling worse.

These feelings caused me to ponder what exactly is the “whelm” we are “overed” by? Hmmmmm. What is whelm?

whelm
Pronunciation: \?hwelm, ?welm\
Function: verb
Etymology: Middle English
Date: 14th century
Definition:
1 : transitive verb 1 : to turn (as a dish or vessel) upside down, usually to cover something : cover or engulf completely with, usually disastrous effect
2 : to overcome in thought or feeling : overwhelm <whelmed with a rush of joy — G. A. Wagner> intransitive verb

When we get attached to the way we think life “should” be, we resist what is, even miss it all together. Life then moves forward about as easy as a car with the parking brake on. Our creativity and compassion shut down, prohibiting us to see all the alternative possibilities for joy available to us, even amidst challenging circumstances. Life becomes a pain in the rear to endure rather than an adventure to be explored. (more…)

I was so touched by Evelin Gerda Lindner’s story, “Giving Life to the Human Family.” Reading it, I felt her intense desire to have a child and the pain she experienced in letting her dream go. But what impressed me most was the sense of promise and possibility that came with her decision. In letting go of her dream to have children, Evelin set herself free from a prison of her own making, opening herself to a whole new life.

Eventually, Evelin did give birth  to Human Dignity and Humiliation Studies, a global network and fellowship of concerned academics and practitioners, dedicated to ending humiliating practices and breaking cycles of humiliation throughout the world. I am awed by what she’s done. I can’t imagine birthing something so big, so profound and new, but after speaking with Evelin in email this week, I realize that, in some ways, her motherhood is very much like mine. Her baby has grown beyond her ability to parent it, its reach far greater than she anticipated. She is proud as any parent would be, wise enough to know that she will have to step back and let it grow and evolve beyond what she herself can manage. I am the mother of an 18-year-old son with a vision and dreams of his own. I guess I know a bit of how she feels.

Of her flourishing work and organization, Evelin wrote:

I use the image of climbing Mount Everest to illustrate how I pushed myself “up and up” for the past 10 years, how I managed to do two things that everybody declared to be impossible, first the doctorate on humiliation (an “impossible” topic, with an “impossible” field work) and then bringing our very unique global network into life with the help of many of its members, particularly of Linda Hartling, and how it flourishes now to a degree that reaches beyond my capabilities, and Linda’s If working 14 hours per day would be enough, we would perhaps continue, however, even if we worked 48 hours per day, the workload has grown so much, that we are no longer able to shoulder it!

I asked about her plans for the future:

We are currently working on restructuring our work, building a Global Coordinating Team, so that the workload is distributed on more shoulders than just mine (and dear Linda’s, together with a few others, dear Judit Revesz from the start, and now dear Michael Britton), however, this needs more strength from me for a while, rather than less, because there is a huge amount of explaining to be done (our nurturing approach is so unique that we risk losing it if those of us at the core of it, don’t explain and protect it…)

Now we look to people who are about to retire, with lots of wisdom, time, and energy, who, instead of being idle, would like to invest some years into a greater cause, for example, mentoring newcomers to our network. Developing our global network with the aim to build a world of more dignity and less humiliation would represent such a greater cause!

To learn more about Evelin and her work, please visit her website at http://www.humiliationstudies.org/

In a comment to my earlier blog “Another Opportunity Ahead” (see further below), Eloise asks: “So what is the difference between a ‘midwife’ and a ‘doula’?”

Although not always the case, it could be said that a doula attends to the top half of the birthing bed and the midwife attends to the bottom half.

The midwife primarily focuses on the physical birth and the mom and baby’s physical well-being, but, their roles are much bigger that merely that. Often their support overlaps, like a silent dance, and when these two vital care-providers work in synchrony it is truly beautiful and makes for a meaningful and memorable birth.
The doula attends to mom’s emotional well being and helps to create the sacred field around mom so that her birthing experience can be as positive as possible. She coaches and attends to mom’s every need. Ideally, the midwife (or doctor) and doula work as a team to provide an overall powerful experience for the mom and facilitate the welcoming of the new baby into it’s family.
The word, “doula,” comes from the Greek word for the most important female slave or servant in an ancient Greek household, the woman who probably helped the lady of the house through her childbearing.

The word has come to refer to “a woman experienced in childbirth who provides continuous physical, emotional, and informational support to the mother before, during and just after childbirth.” (Klaus, Kennell and Klaus, Mothering the Mother)

A doula is a non-medical assistant who provides physical, emotional and informed choice support in prenatal care, during childbirth and during the postpartum period.

A birth doula is a continuous care provider for labor in many settings, also assisting the parturient woman during transport from home to hospital or birth center.

A postpartum doula may begin care in the home (nutritious cooking for the mother, breastfeeding support, newborn care assistance, maternal-child bonding support, errands, light housekeeping) the next day after the birth, providing services through the first six weeks postpartum.

In some cases, doula care can last several months or even to a year post partum - especially in cases when mothers are suffering from post partum depression, children with special needs require longer care, or there are multiple infants.

Although a doula often knows as much as a midwife about the birthing process, she leaves that responsibility for the actual birthing of the baby to the midwife. The doula stays completely focused on mom’s general comfort and emotional well-being.

It is a very intuitive skill to be a doula, and for me always a sacred experience to be welcomed into the aura of a birth.

Moved by Chapter 2, our friend in the community, Rimma, who grew up and became a doctor in Russia and has since moved to Seattle, WA, wrote:

It is about time to talk more about family and children and women, and men.

One of my friends is working in the company which helps some couples to adopt the children from all over the world. I’ve heard so many very unusual stories, you would never believe it. A short story: One couple from Seattle were going to adopt a child from Russia. As usual they had to proof they are nice people, have enough of money to support the child, have a good relationship inside of the family. It took a lot of time effort, money, again money, and again money ( something around $60K), I am not joking, it was really that much. So, they are coming to the foster home in Siberia, by the way to the city I am from, and they get there when all of the children was in the class. The age of the children is 5-6 years old. The same moment they stepped into the class one boy jumped from the chair, ran to this gentleman and scream:” Daddy I was waiting for you, where have you been?” and hugged the man’s leg and the guy couldn’t do anything but take this boy to Seattle.

That is the story with the happy ending. Some are not as good…

What are we to learn about how the heart opens to invite in family out of strangers? And is it to happen only with children?

In a span of about three days, I received two very clear and momentous calls.

The first one was from one of my dearest friends who, with his wife, was expecting their first child. He was calling to say, “We think the baby may be coming in a day or two, are you around and ready?”

The second one came from my once-husband’s wife saying, “Tony’s been taken to the intensive care unit of the community hospital because his kidneys and lungs have collapsed. Can you come?”

Two extremely different situations that carried very intense emotions - the first one of excitement, anticipation and giddy nervousness; the second one of shock, sadness and anxiety. Both instances were ones I’d never been in before and I felt myself in over my head. Yet, the common theme in both instances that I hold dear to me is that I had come to a knowing with them that I was part of “their family” — through thick and thin, in sickness and in health. Neither folks are my blood nor marital relations, and yet I felt as integrated into their lives and into their situation as if they were my blood family. This is Grace to me — the experience of intimacy, deep connection and mutual concern by our acknowledgment and choosing.They choose me and I choose them…or perhaps it’s more like we have been chosen to share this life together, up close and personal. Somehow, there’s something very sweet and strong and poignant about this knowing or realizing that keeps true to my way of being in community.

I think there is such a natural way of knowing and choosing family that is in the hearts of many women of the younger generation. In the article “What We Mean When We Say FAMILY” that is in Chapter 2, three young women share their warm and insightful perspectives on the process of shaping their families. My dear young friend, Reena, describes the rough terrain quite well in her piece that follows - “P.S.! Building Our Chosen Families” - in which she says, “Many of us struggle with the tension between those family members we have chosen and those who ‘come as part of the deal.’ The family we have chosen sees us and loves us as the adults we are today. But our relations with our childhood family members are rooted in the past, and do not always grow with us as we evolve.”

How might our greater freedom and willingness to choose and be chosen and, with that, our commitment to BE family with each other - with mindfulness, consciousness, responsibility and Grace - shape and evolve the world community we live in today?

How are you being family today?

Inspired by Flo Aeveia Magdalena’s piece, “Birthing Our Children in Light,” Lynn Geri, who has held a passion and concern for the welfare of children’s development for a very long time, engaged the author in a conversation on the meaning and implications of light and sound on children’s development. This is what was shared… (And after you read their exchange, we hope you will join in their conversation!)

LYNN: You apparently had given a lot of thought to the experience of light and sound. Obviously, you see light as more than a physical phenomenon that we see with our eyes; and sound more than a physical phenomenon that we hear with our ears, as do I.

FLO: Yes, I do feel that light is a vibration that is unique to each and shared by all in a process that is not so easy to understand literally. I long to bring this awareness to others in settings that open the heart and mind, simultaneously.

LYNN: I am in the process of birthing a schooling, where children, adults and senior citizens: “increase the potential to live out the supreme aspirations of their spirit and integrate their highest ideals into their lives.” And, “where each person is living out of and contributing his or her unique essence to the evolution of society.” In order to design this schooling I need a very deep understanding of light and sound. Like, “What BE the essences of light and sound?” “What is light’s relationship to sound?” How do light and sound manifest themselves as essence?

FLO: In my experience, light and sound are the vibratory basis of creation. Each cell and each organism brings their part of the orchestra’s final crescendo through the innate part they play in the union of all beings, through the sound of their essence. How do I describe vibration or essence? How do I know so clearly that we all have that essence? The language to describe the being of light and sound are best experienced through the heart of our connection with each other. Perhaps in co-creation, in the sharing of visions and passions, connecting through a mutual intent for service and cooperation, we drop the boundaries that normally separate us and find the place of ground where we are one as the body of creation.

LYNN: You are offering that children carry with them a light and a song that is their essence before and into their birth, and mothers/parents/communities/tribes have a role in awakening that song and light. Since I see myself as a person who is called to create the structures (wombs) in our American society that allow the light and song to be rebirthed, can you give me an example of a place in our society that increases a child’s potential to light their light and sing their song?

FLO: The place that I find the light and sound is in the Seed of light, which is in the Xiphoid Process. This is the ground of each person’s place here as an organic part of nature and the whole. It is a physical grounding point in the body where the ribs come together at the base of the sternum. Lying within this point is the blueprint which is the familiar and congruent resonance that each organism responds to that which invites blooming.

In our everyday human existence, this place is covered over by convention, conditioning and the dogmatic ways that our outer systems function for the ease and grace of those who structure our lives. In a varied and diverse way, I think/feel that we find those people and situations, when we are lucky, that uncover that seed within and set it shining brightly. This can happen on an ongoing basis, once in a lifetime, or not at all. Uncovering the light and letting it shine, in my experience, is a life-long task. I do the best I can with others, for example, but know that my endeavoring to provide this at all times and my ability to provide it at all times are different and depend on my energy, awareness, focus, etc.

In our world today, there is a promise that as our human consciousness rises we are more aware of the subtle, yet profound, aspects of our energy system and our human evolutionary movement toward realization, personally and collectively.

Perhaps the most important aspect is the recognition that this place within exists. We each can fine tune, pay attention to, and recognize this place. We can call others to join us here, shining our light on the world whenever we can from this place; shining our light from within to this place in others. I think that each of us sparks that light in others, sometimes intentionally, and sometimes not.

LYNN: What does this place BE? Can you describe it with enough details that I can see a space, see what people are doing and saying, even the colors of the ground and background?

FLO: When I have experienced this as part of my work, acceptance is the key. When we view or experience another, the filters or projections of our own need to see or be are set aside while we hold an organic and non-thinking place for another to “BE.” We then send an invitation to the other, from that place of being the other. One way to view this would be to know that even though we are sitting with someone else, we are the same. There are no boundaries and we can be the song, the essence, the expression, without doing anything about it. This informs our connection so that the status quo behavior and normal societal functioning are no longer necessary, desired, or even recognized as present.

When we are with another in this way, the seed within opens. Both seeds open at the same time, outside of time. We bring forth the soul essence of each person and hold that for them to see and for us to see. We actually bring the seeds so that they resonate with each other. The color, sound, frequency, environment, atmosphere, sensitivity, all are born from the connection and are different with each person. Therefore, we discover the other as an awareness of ourselves in connection with everything that is. No separation. This inspires the person to feel themselves as whole and fills them with a grace that transcends action, past accomplishment or failure, expectations filled or unfilled, and so forth. Here lies the opportunity to remember the oneness, to fit in and to belong. Here we are all the same and can connect without condition.

LYNN: What process is unleashed by the place’s being?

FLO: Self-actualization and Self-authority and the courage to live from this place that informs our choices and decision, our connections and our creations.

LYNN: What is happening inside the child that manifests itself in a song and light?

FLO: The expression of the light of being brings a freedom from imposed constraints. There is no need to have courage because the knowing transcends the need to conform or receive approval. This is the experience of truly being seen and known. There is space in the container of the body/mind/spirit to see the world from a broader and more expanded matrix of light where competition, separation, and disconnection are an illusion, and sharing in the heart a reality.

Children who touch their cores and their seeds of light are shaped by an inner patterning that shines light on the outer framework and therefore there is an ongoing choice to listen to the inner knowing which provides a place for balance, integration, and a whole-brained perspective.

Our species is moving in this direction. We are the pioneers of this new way and are, in the words and concepts of Rupert Sheldrake, establishing morphogenic fields of being where living from the inner voice is the “natural and normal” way to relate. This is the pathway for the song and the light to deepen our human ground of being.

Moved by the artwork of Jeannine Chappell, featured in Chapter 2 of our birthing book, I wrote to ask the artist about her pieces, and the inspiration that led to them. Here is our exchange. I hope you will join in our conversation!

JCW: Your art work which accompanies “Susan’s Choice” is beautiful - at once, whimsical and poignant. The credits list these pieces as “Sliver Dawn 1″ and “Silver Dawn 6.” Does your Silver Dawn series tell a story? If so, what is the story it tells, and what inspired you to tell it? 

JEANNINE: Yes, there is a story behind the images.  In 1983-84 I was a student at JFK University in the Masters in Arts and Consciousness program. I took a class from Shanja Kirstann, and she took us on a very deep personal journey during the semester. Near the end of the semester, she had us write a poem in jibberish. My poem had a very Germanic sound and, since I lived my first years in a house that included my German-speaking grandfather, I felt the poem tapped into a very “early” me. Then she had us “translate” the poem into English, and this is the poem that flowed out of me:

“Silver Dawn”

Here I go flying into the flame
to be devoured by light
and suckled with warmth.
As the silver dawn approaches
I awake to this day, and I know now
that I will never sleep the same again,
for the grace of This is with me
in my longing and my search
and I awake, again, anew to the All.

I never finished the degree at JFK because my son, Alex, was born in September, 1984 and life took over. But a few years ago I took out the poem and began creating images to illustrate each line. I hope someday to finish the images and present the whole thing as a book. So it is a rebirth poem, and helped lead to the birth of my son!

It is my hope that you will create the time to nest in and read the next chapter of our publication on birthing, now to focus on the Evolving Family.

So much has evolved since I wrote an article, Babies Become Mothers, about my daughters and their birth experiences only five weeks apart from one another. Within this article are my reflections as a result of neither birth unfolding as I had hoped. I was blessed with yet another layer of letting my daughters, surrendering them to the birth experience that was designed to grow each of them even though it deviated from my hopes and expectations.

Though I prefer a flow of mindful uninterrupted birthing, I have learned that it is not the details of how birth is attended, but the consciousness and respect, joy and love that is brought to and shared within the occasion. Either way, wherever it is, and regardless of the outcome, Goddess appears through the intensity of a new life and a transitional moment, which is a continuation of our own because we are all one.

For a moment the portal is open and time stands still whether in a c-section operating room or a labor, delivery, recovery room, a bedside at home surrounded by friends or in a hut with a dirt floor somewhere. There the Mystery wraps her arms around all of us for one final hug before surrendering us to the co-creative unknown of birthing again and again a new earth.

My role-weaving as mother, grandmother, ’sage femme’ and ‘doula’ will be stretched and tested once again, this time as we welcome grand baby number four, our first little girl, in just a few months.

And I wonder…

What pirouette dance will birth offer this time.

Blessings to you, and for you, as we are all sister ‘doulas’ of life whether birthing babies or another creative facet of our life. Each is an opportunity to birth a deeper part of our Self.