our babies are comprised of





wishes into flesh
love into bone
dreams into life
whispers into song
the purest thoughts we have
our unadulterated joy
our raw hope
our entire hearts
how can a mother not believe in magic?
when she has held it in her womb, pressed it to her breast, loved it into existence?
our babies are here to remind us
what we already know
this universe is miraculous
and magical
an expanding and all encompassing love
is inside
and outside
each
and every
one
of
us
it's what our babies are comprised of
it's what we are comprised of
but you knew that already,
mama.

Michael Singer says Just Remove the Rocks



We are currents in motion right now, my love. 
We are at sea, and there is a storm.
We are the river, but we are also the rocks.
Simply remove the rocks and the river will flow smoothly. Easy, right?
But, it’s turbulent now. We’re in-between and in-between isn’t here or there, is it?
I remind myself: life is always this way. Only, sometimes we flow with it. Sometimes, we dance with it. Other times, it feels more mechanical and awkward. Like a toddler beginning to walk. Like when the training wheels come off, or the house lights come on.
I'm here, I'm meant to be the captain, but I'm lost in this storm. Maybe I am the storm.
At night, as you tuck your head just beneath my chin and I begin a storybook about where trains sleep, I remember that nothing lasts. Nothing lasts — including storms, times of transition, or these blink-and-you-miss-them early days of your almost five-year-old life. To be tucked in together like this is the greatest gift on earth.
So, I vow to move the rocks. And I try not to blink.