“Our love was born
outside the walls,
in the wind,
in the night,
in the earth,
and that’s why the clay and the flower,
the mud and the roots
know your name.”
Pablo Neruda
My mother and I moved to a complicated dance during her long life. When confined to a room, car, house or any inside place, we contracted into our roles of mother/daughter, victim/rebel, narcissist/savior, often dancing out of step, out of time, and out of sync with each other.
But outside in nature the tight cord between mother/daughter fell to the earth and Mother Nature breathed us back to life. Pregnant with possibility, all the hurts between us, behind us and inside us disappeared.
Being outside expanded mother/daughter into travelers, adventurers and explorers, even when we simply sat on a park bench to watch birds.
In nature we moved outside the status quo, outside of expectations, outside of the need to please. On long walks we collected shells, rocks and bits of string and held them to our wombs as we moved softly towards the best part of ourselves. The land filled us. The land connected us. The land became us.
Anywhere in nature was our “thin place,” a place close to heaven and earth where only love existed. A place safe enough to grab hold of our beautiful, sleeping, wild girl hearts to offer them to each other. A place where our hearts woke up to a new rhythm and we danced for a while in perfect time. ❤
