Mistress Grange

The Grange, five years ago shy held timber wall stories and muffled cries.  We held our time of Nora mourning in these timber logs and although it had a kitchen and bath, it felt like a sacred burning box.

And now I walked strong head high beside my partner and live sons thrive to the very same space to celebrate the new stage of giving in communities we be living.

I walk back to this grange, five years ago shy, new dew eyed reminiscent of my young path and the smell of old pioneer was anything but pallet make for fast.

Slower, she Grange said in gentle fold to understand the unfold.  She held us as we wept for the Nora daughter so lost and yet so felt.  So lent and yet so intimate and life altering are the days, months, years.  And later as I sit in front of a school community we helped manifest, I know old Mistress Grange still makes plans to sing the flame to what must be fame as some helpful quest.

Not sure what this translates but the wood standing still can vibrate stories truer than what we can do to only stand still.

Listen, breath and be of a worker bee building communities that grow the love of what was lost and what can be found.

........................................

Nora is our daughter.  She was born and passed away five years ago this coming February 28 from Trisomy 18.  Her memorial was held at Lisabuela beach park and Vashon/Maury Island Grange Hall a week later.  A loving community of family and friends circled us as we grieved.  We have never forgotten such loving kindness.  

Klahanie Nursery School was born out of the residuals of such kindness and birthed a new community of joy and celebration, all encompassing the meaning of life shifts.  

Klahanie Nursery School 2011 Winter Party was held at the Vashon Grange in order to solidify the tansformative experience of what it means to be in a community: new, old and growth for more.

Thank you to all who have been active and witness to this transformation and embraced it as such.  What an honor to experience such power of cohesive life intention and be surrounded by people who live inspiring lives.

There is much more to come, no matter the age!

Sincerely,

Emmy

Pregnancy After Death...Yes, It Hurts

Dear Mama,

You hold that new sacred unfold that is going to be your soulful match.  He/She came after your loss/losses and it hurts too much to patch.  But here we are, solid in-utero true that this is what is happening.

It is rich, it is scary and it is what is.  Why not just throw yourself into the fast track of finding some form of happy life match?

What do we do?
Stew, brew for what is not or meant to transpire for our life lesson few?

We all suffer, some extent.  Some is more than others, some is less than a pencil leaves the desk but that is life, the life we human mammals live.  Cycle, feel, bender and life still.

Mama, be free.  Mama be free as you were with the first, even if the first inflicted pain we have to move from and around the pain to see what is real.

YOU determine what is real, you alone.

LIfe is life, death is death, growth is growth.
What do you choose?

My Sons

Farmer boy draw the path that illustrates my zest for your partners to pass some element of understanding of what we were as mama and sons who learned from one another in turns.

They, like I, will see the sacred truth of how a mother embraces the forces of her son's fierce.
It is not like a dynamic any woman can describe nor feel embarrassed for the intimacy that resides.  It is a connection true and force match.  What we mamas do with the ember is to not leave latched.

I love my sons.  My red waved, glory be done sons.  Their life is full and will become fuller with each day.  My job is to be present as they pay for the mighty living each way.  They can say what they will but they will know that they are derived from farmer forager finder feeler healer who listen and say.

The listen and say are what I mama hope to hold for my sons, for my family fabric spirit daughter, for my husband, for my person, for my earth.

Be of listen and say of the self truth that births from the love we cherish in few.

Mama Somalia, Your Feet Are So Raw

Grief is grief.  Walk is walk.
Mama why do your children of Somalia have to bear the burden of the earth dry ache?

The mama's stifle, snuff cries when their babies die one, two, three because the walk is necessary to find a breath while they must retreat.  This is for her family all; to escape the horrors and find some reason to reach tall.

To a camp that possibly can offer some form of safety while
oh mama
oh warrior mama you sound callused souled steps off to a place none of us can imagine through dreams.

Oh queen mama how you cut paths with strength massive on sore heels walking for the light of vaccination
food for your surviving few you have sacrificed for, to escape dehydration in your child's small body.

You teach us by your story.  You step solidly in our learner open eyes.  We will continue to see you so you can teach us to move toward callusing our hands so we may offer helping fans to stir up the air so change may occur for you, for your earth and deceased children.

Memory of what you have paved and memory so generations next can learn to save.

Turn, Turn Me On

Sat with my sistas out on the lawn, under familiar shade that I hadn't met in a long yawn.

She, my life-live with dead sista Elisa who shed my layers to place of newer.  I am seen from my scattered glass how jagged and frayed were my tendril lessons of past.

This will be a manifest turning ground for
me
family
for great world round.

I'm going to be working hard and seek to feel the necessary fleshing of scattered shades to know and find still.

I am to be born yet again.

My skin is tight and my belly aches for this visceral meal; meaty living for the sake.  I'm digesting to grow and grow some more.

Thank you sista Elisa for shedding some snake skin knowing on what is aching me so.

Nora In Our Family: The List Does Not Compare

Nora In Our Family: The List Does Not Compare: "Be left, be dry, be that sign that resonates for lifetimes try. The earth is a singular large fighting for gentle mourning cause Seen is ..."

The List Does Not Compare

Be left, be dry, be that sign that resonates for lifetimes try.

The earth is a singular large fighting for gentle mourning cause
Seen is seen for us of light shine
                                          bring to a place that is understood and semi-keen.

So sorry for the look that does not compute.  Intimidating but know it is not.  Vulnerability is swing shift gift that fluctuates frequently and does not give idle or tint.

Life is life.
Not is not.
Do is do.
Make it for your self and others for knot closet sought.

The house is colored to a shade of night and air.  We are devils bringing giddy spring flare.  But nothing compares to the singular fair of ponies and bunnies and things of cuddly fur.  Life is about living for self and other no matter what the fabric given.

Living is living.  No matter what the spring offers as a given wear.