Wednesday, January 1, 2014

A Re-Birthing {My Fearless Year}

“grieve. so that you can be free to feel something else.” — nayyirah waheed*

I feel reborn. Or, that I am re-birthing. Being born again, but not in the usual way.

The past two years have had me digging. Excavating, pounding against the deep. Yes, because of Eve, because she died and left my body, left us in all the ways that count, except for her absence. That remains.

She died before breath and she's had me digging ever since, twenty-five months of black earth and muddy filth beneath my fingernails. Digging through the grief of losing her, but that was only the beginning.

That girl that barely was, she broke the dam I'd kept beaver-strong for all these years, since that adolescent time when I was supposed to awaken to the world and my self and instead found all growth trapped and tied and knotted down. And --

I left it that way, added more soul-baling twine to cut into my spirit-flesh, let the knots chafe and bloody


and thought it was fine. Fine, I said, I'm fine. But

I was wrong, living small and gasping, and this soul, she was not meant for that. Somehow she -- I -- lived in spite of their/my best efforts, and when my body birthed the limp and lifeless we had long expected, those knots began to fray.

My Eve girl, she loosened the twine, handed me a subject from whatever waits beyond to use with my new-wakening limbs.

Dig, her death said.

Dig, her ashes sifted.

Dig! her memory cried.

And so I pressed the shovel blade to the desiccated ground of the Story of Me and pressed in, leaned close, hauled sand and rock and pain and grit and hurt and dirt and fear and

the hardness began to give way to something below, something soft and loamy, the fertile earth that my soul -- every soul -- was made to grow deep into. It has been there all along, but three decades of disbelief in dignity and worth and all those intrinsic things each child breaches first air possessing, that I had been taught I did not deserve, that I had thought did not matter.

Two years, I've sifted grief, missing her and mourning the self that was nearly stolen forever from me. But that baby girl, she taught me to dig, to fight for life, for the pulse pounding to the fullest beat, and I have and I am, and

I realize today as words sway my spirit and I run less and less from the work I was made for, I am living that life, for the first, the first, the first time and my breath comes quick, that full beating my dead daughter wanted for me rocking this tendered heart, and my soul crows with the glory of this wild life that she birthed in me.

Today is day one, again.  For the first time in nineteen years, the new moon coincides with the first of the calendar year.  The symbol drips with meaning for me.  And so here, amidst the moon-dark and the everyday newness and the mountains of soul-earth that I have sifted and that I have yet to sift, let me share with you my guiding word for 2014.  I whisper it in your ear, and let its fullness en-courage us both -- fearless.

This year, I will dig -- fearlessly.
This year, I will question and seek -- fearlessly.
This year, I will rebel, throw off the moorings of heart decay and bondage -- fearlessly.
This year, I will love -- fearlessly.
This year, I will show up, I will try imperfectly, I will press into my soul's yearning -- fearlessly.
This year, I will write and I will lead -- fearlessly.
This year, I will breathe deep and connect -- fearlessly. 
This year, I step forward from grief, and back into grief, as needed -- fearlessly.
This year, I will listen to and honor my intuition, the leadings of my feminine soul -- fearlessly.

This year, I continue -- we all continue -- the journey of the soul, wild and tender.   Fearlessly.

Are you with me?

*quote courtesy of Hillary at Spirit Soul Earth


  1. I am with you. Lead and write, fearlessly, my friend. I'll be with you.

  2. I am so with you. being privy to this journey of yours has been a holy and sacred honour. I look forward to seeing your feet move and your hands get dirtier in 2014.

    fearless. <3

  3. Beth, Beth, BETH!! These words, this beauty, your artistry. I'm standing on my chair, waving hands in the air and releasing the loudest roar of a YESSSS you can imagine.

    I'm right there in the dirt beside you. Digging in my own earth, fueled by the loss of my own child. And I'm right there with you in the birthing room, opening my arms, welcoming me, welcoming you.

  4. This is beautiful, and significant. I counted back 19 years, and was a little surprised about where I was in life... I am so thankful that we can go back and pick up that life that was set aside or hidden long ago. I'm so ready to live that life in 2014!!

  5. Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.
    Mary Oliver

    Eve gave you a tremendous gift����

  6. You: fearless. Me: Courage. Oh, boy. It might be an interesting year. :) <3 Hugs.

  7. Yes! I am with you. It has been such a beautiful thing witnessing your journey through blogging, art and instagram over the past 2 years.
    My word is {{brave}.

  8. I am with you! Fearless. Loved this post!

  9. blessings of boldness and wonder as the year begins - be strong and courageous!

  10. Fearless, it leaves me awestruck, like your words here. I can't think of a better way to approach a year. Open to what comes and taking chances. Yes!

  11. Oh gorgeous girl, this is so great. Everyone has a purpose, and Eve fulfilled hers, giving you the gift of strength and fearlessness and moving forward. She came for a reason: YOU are the reason! Breathe easier this year Beth. <3

  12. I am with you. And, I love it. With all my love. Fearlessly, indeed! Thank you...for being fearless and encouraging others to cast of their shackles. My word is free. Just wrote of it today on my musty old blog. Love to you, dear friend.

  13. Beth, this is heart-rendingly brave. In your words I hear echoes of many good things to come.


"I am glad you are here with me."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King