This morning in yoga and in the short meditation afterwards, I felt like this:
soft mothering pulse, vibration
at the mother root of belly being
we long to feel rocked as if we were infants
I long for that all embracing feeling
of being loved, touched with love
seen with love, heard with love.
we don't find it often in the grown-up world -
in the growing up years we may be hugged and held
but we were also scolded and scorned.
mom sang lullabies to us at bedtime
and she also swatted us away like flies.
she did rock me on her lap - I can still remember
being pushed off that lap and sent to the back seat of the car
on a long trip, station wagon full of kids.
mothers are not the endless source of loving
but that womb-rocking they do for nine months
is what we remember
this morning in shivasana, lying on my back
with knees up over a bolster
I just let go and breathed
and the mother-root energy pulsed
in the center of every outbreath and inbreath
and I felt rocked and held -
that hug we long for
is always there, but much quieter
than the noisy world in your office or kitchen.
it doesn't clamour to be felt
but the absence of that rooted-ness
is what scatters me
in a million directions.
I am a heat-seeking missile
when it comes to that Presence.
I want to zone-in, get close,
hum, purr, rock,
stillness in motion
rocking my child's heart
back to comfort and release,
back to Ahhhh....
can I live from that center?