Here we are.
The calendar has ended.
The world is still spinning and the Unknown continues branching out like rays of a sunrise.
We begin 2013.
On January 1, my 6 yr. old daughter, Aurelia, and I watch the first streaks of an electric orange orb climb it’s way out of the damp cloud horizon. Perched vulnerably on our blue sphere of a perfect spacecraft, she and I roll toward the luminous dawn. The sun has reappeared during a high tide and has the fragrance of fullness. A water world. We are placed here in a vulnerability because of the fragile genius of our earth’s eco-balancing presence. Simultaneously, we are held, inhabiting a firmness of place, of center, of ‘we belong here’ which engenders a confidence to make friends with all that IS. When Aurelia queries, ” Why don’t we feel the earth spinning?” I reply, “We do. It’s all we know.” Meaning, we simply don’t apply the realization that we are turning; that is our intrinsic experience of our natural, unconscious, and dynamic relationship in humanness and earthliness and interconnected galactic citizenship. (I recall an African truism that her godmother once shared with me: A woman’s hips circling keep the entire world spinning. Yes.) Her response:”That’s not all we know, Mama. We know the trees and the the plants and the animals, too.” My smile becomes as bright as the glow we are witnessing. The light of this day continues to enter our sensitive eyes, as long as we can hold Sun’s gaze.
Later, we convoy with our neighbor’s to Rodeo Beach. We walk the hills then descend to the sand to make a circle. Daren brings deep yellow roses. We collect 7 stones. Aurelia draws a circle in the sand and instructs us to stand on the line she had etched. With that, we were ready to improvise a ritual to greet the New Year. Daren passes out a stone to each of us.. The sea booms onto shore as the crest of each wave surrenders to gravity ,arching in a perfect circle, crashing into itself. The voice of Mama Ocean resonant, strong and encouraging. Daren explains that the stone we now hold is a symbol of something we wanted to offer back or leave behind or simply release. We take turns saying a few words and individually casting, skipping or placing this weight toward the water. Aurelia rounds the circle three times as we adults speak and stand in silence: round one to draw a heart at our feet, the next to wipe the line she had made and sprinkle sand, and the final, an embrace. We watch one another, listen to the sea’s response in Her language of form and dissolution, and honor the opportunity of the moment. Seven bodies, seven hearts, one un namable wish at the center. A circle. Next, Aurelia, representing 2013, gifts us each our flower. She instructs us: remove the petals one by one. Once everyone had completes, we move together to the water’s ever changing edge. Aurelia suggests we hold our hand with the petals above us, allowing the wind to carry them onto the surface of the sea. This scattering is delicate. A floating, a sweet fall from the heaven’s reach above our heads to the wetness below resulting in a dancing constallation of yellow sparks on the dark sand and then, the water with white foam pulling at Her hems.
This day becomes a prayer. Our company, the intention to willingly move forward despite+including the hardships of last year, and the desire to create a marking through ceremony. New Years Eve/January 1 honors Yemaya. She is the Sea Goddess/Orisha in the Santoria and Yoruban traditions. These are African in origin and span Brazil and Cuba… This connection flashes as the flowers reach the water. We are certainly not the only ones committing gifts to the ocean, thanking the Great Mother, grateful for the beginnings of Life and the fluidity that sustains and harmonizes Us.
The change is here. The change is us. The change changes us and changes and changes. Each moment is a birthing. We are being born within it. Each moment contains a deathing, we are being born within it. Dying, rebirthing, breathing. and in the center a stillness, a middle chord, a music or song that is eternal and present.
This brings adaptability, restoration, chaos, flexibility, flesh ability, and a skill for remaining open in our vulnerability. If my heart could speak of strength it is only through it’s woundedness. For this, I carry my stone to the ocean and thrust it upwards into the sky. It will not stick there as I’d imagined. Instead it drops, plump, onto the damp sands. I laugh. There is no where for anything to disappear into…all this energy grounds itself, even if the form changes. And, then again, there is nothing here anyway…only spaciousness, nothing-ness, everything-ness folding into one another/itself, having an intimate conversation about attraction and pull and poetry and undying love.
The waters connecting all lands.