The last 9 months have been a necessary and challenging rite of passage, awakening deeply rooted fears about my worth to be a mother and to be mothered, in order for me to lovingly turn towards them and myself. From the age of 3, my body knew I would not have children in this lifetime and although there have been moments and discussions where I have entertained the idea cerebrally, somatically I have felt no impulse or pull towards motherhood.
As I come closer to my 46th birthday and croning, my body is experiencing biological grief. I find myself eating within a fog of dissocation until my belly is ripe to burst and the swelling causes me to look heavily pregnant. In paradoxical parallel , opportunities to hold space as a trainer have sent echoes of irrational shockwaves through me, rendering me either frozen or internally kicking and screaming within a tight birth canal. Operating from fear, I have questioned my capacity to be in service to others and to hold space for learning and creative expression.
On my visit to London, I am guided by invisible forces; I meet so many amazing and friendly people in unexpected places, savouring each encounter with a trust they are my part of my divine team and perhaps, I am on theirs?
I feast on beautiful art and find myself in reverie as I navigate the underground. As a train approaches, I hear a woman say to her friend 'let's take this carriage' and so I go with her flow and follow her lead. I meet another woman on a subway platform who takes photographs of eyes. There are certain moments where I am struck by the industrial textures, seeing the spines of mechanical dragons carrying the weight of this system on their backs. As I descend vast escalators, I pinch my arms to check if I am awake or dreaming. I know there is part of our brain which is dreaming when we are awake and I realise I am strengthening my capacity to consciously experience this blended state through the quality of my curious attention. I have to hold on tightly to the escalator rail so I won't jump as I would when I am astral travelling.
Despite my brain planning my route to a meeting where I can grab a quick bite to eat, I find my feet leading me to the ramen bar at Harrods. As I devour the most delicious noodles I have ever dreamed of (since watching the movie Bladerunner), I have the time and space to fully receive a message from a dear friend, reminding me that I will fly with or without my broomstick. It is a gloriously welcome sensation of medicinal synchronicity which butters up my heart, adding more flavour to an already exquisite meal.
As I walk back to my hotel on the evening before my workshop, again my feet decide to take me on a different path. I find the ruins of an old church, swaddled in vine leaves. There are benches and a small fountain in the centre of this urban oasis. I sit peacefully on the bench, transfixed by the tubby squirrels demanding snacks from visitors. I look up from this place of serenity to see a plane flying overhead and I smile. This is innerdance, a blend of timelessness where everything is lovingly held simultaneously. I vow to listen to my feet more and to follow rabbit holes wherever they need to lead me to.
The day of my workshop arrives and tension dissolves to reveal an innate trust and surrender to a process I can allow and cooperate with. It is a beautiful day, everything I could ever have dreamed of, if only I had allowed myself to. I realise I am not delivering a workshop, I am delivering myself. This is a birthing process and one where I am witnessed by others, each participant a midwife in their own way. Known or unknown, we are mothering each other.
The next day, I have the honour and pleasure to co-facilitate with a sage soul who I am meeting in the flesh for the first time. There is something timeless and unspoken between us as we minister love and support through the innerdance. I feel I have always known her and this is a space we have held over many lifetimes.
Dreamy London time draws to a close and as I ponder what is next for me, I realise it is the season to begin my innerdance children's book about a bee and her cosmic experiences. I join an innerdance and we are invited to consider our own theme or intention for the journey. I close my eyes, settle down and I hear footsteps crunching in the snow. This sound translates into image; I am a bee, there are microphones on my feet and I am padding about in a flower. Suddenly, my brain is the body of a bee and my wings are helicopter blades, I am flying over the grand canyon; this scene becomes violet and my brain transforms into thousands of purple butterflies. I can hear the sound of the playlist coming from the left side of the room and my butterflies flutter towards the computer which is now floating on a river in an amazonian forest. A fun and uplifting song comes on and my two favourite cartoon characters from childhood emerge through the darkness. They are bees called Maya and Willie.
Electricity sparks and spreads through my prefrontal cortex, lighting up my corpus callosum and flowing around my temporal lobes. Maia is the name of pi's ecovillage! An intelligence within me sees circles swirling round and round, faster than light herself. At two years old, I was dreaming of and dancing with a cartoon bee whose name is the same as a space of deep healing and learning which would come to mean so much to me. I realise I was born to write the story of this bee. I wonder what came first? did my childhood experiences influence my experiences with innerdance or did innerdance influence my childhood? I trust that both are true.
Interestingly, my pregnant eating has stopped as swiftly as it arrived and I feel more in tune with my body. I am now birthing a bee line which was made for me before I was born. I have reached out to an illustrator and I see my story with more clarity as she emerges from a slumbering hive. This book wants to be borne by me and through the experience of the last 9 months, I trust I can surrender to a deep process of co-creation where witnessing is mutually mothering.
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