My photo
mommy. wife. teacher. yogini. writer. coffee drinker. aunt. crocheter. reader. dog lover. scattered. methodical. rational. irrational. paranoid. annoyed. lost. found. content. searching. peaceful. i am constantly in search of my story. the one i have never happened. the one i've lived i cannot write.

26 December 2007

pitter-pats and whispers in your head.

she is riding low tonight.
she uses my lower abdomen for practicing those kick-starts.
her pitter-pats are strong enough now that occasionally the evidence shows up in ripples on the outside of my swollen stomach.
we have discovered that she likes yoga.
she likes rocking in the rocking chair.
and she loves being read to.
i can feel her smiling as i read to her stories that my mother once read to me.

and on a related but not-so-related topic...

i began work on one of my christmas gifts today, the book "eat, pray, love" by elizabeth gilbert.
(i sincerely hate to admit that an appearance on oprah was what first sparked my interest in the book, and hate even more to admit that oprah really does have fine taste in literature.)
i am not far in the book, but am completely enthralled and already wishing i knew this woman on a personal level. we would share tea, stroll to yoga and then pour over the greatest literary minds while bitching about our minuscule lives...

...but i digress.

i bring this book up because ms. gilbert touches on something in the fourth strand of this book (page 16, for those of you rushing to purchase it.) she describes an encounter she has with God while on the floor of her bathroom at three o'clock in the morning. it is her first real conversation with Him (read her book for reference to this particular pronoun), and in the midst of her tears, voice comes to her.

this is what i love. this is where i nearly jumped out of the bathtub screaming "yes, finally!"

she describes the voice as, "...merely my own voice speaking from within my own self. But this was my voice as I had never heard it before. This was my voice, perfectly wise, calm and compassionate. This is what my voice would sound like if I'd only ever experienced love and certainty in my life." (p.16)

i know this voice.
mine sounds slightly different, naturally.
and often, mine is more of a whisper than a certainty. a quiet subtlety that peeks over my shoulder as i search for answers, comfort, hope...any number of unattainable baubles.

in the past few months, i have found myself on the bathroom floor of life, even if not literally. i am in a state of metamorphosis, and while this would seem obvious, it runs so much deeper than growing babies and expanding waistlines. i am in a state of mu - i am between one life and the next. and in the fog that is this transition, i have had many a conversation with Him. i question, i cry, i beg, i thank...and i beg some more. and just when anxiety creeps in with its icy fingers reaching for my heart, that voice comes.

everything's gonna be okay.

and so.
i spend my days
waiting for the the pitter-patter of growing feet
and listening for whispers inside my head.

"In the end, what I have come to believe about God is simple." - Elizabeth Gilbert.

go well.

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...