Friends, I’ve found it hard, these last weeks, to be here in this space. I still have no power, and no signal for data. I have found myself, unexpectedly, back in the land of grief.
I say unexpectedly when actually I should really have been expecting this. It’s the month our baby should have been joining our family, and I guess the body remembers and has its wants, it’s ache. I’m working on a post for my paid community about this time, as to be honest I feel more comfortable sharing about it in a smaller and more intimate environment.
To share the beauty of it all, alongside the grief, feels so important.
These roses, so delicate, so resilient, so precious, have popped up in three separate areas on the land; for which I am extremely grateful.
I’ve dried some, and added to my cacao, and my heart has felt held and healed.
Tomorrow night, Wednesday 11 June, 7-8 pm BST, on zoom, we will gather to mark the Rose moon. I am so unspeakably moved by these gatherings, over a year in now.
So deeply touched by the ways in which a group of women gathered together for a single hour can mend a whole lifetime, stitch by glorious stitch.
If you’d like to join MOSS MOTHER MOON , email me - inchwhooperswan@gmail.com
Last week, amid a very tangly, thorny time, my lover took this photo of me beneath one of the oaks I grew up with, and it felt such a gift.
We continue to gather, all of us (m)others, on Thursday mornings, 10-11 am BST on zoom. We share where our hearts are at. Where we are with our mothering and our writing. Then we write together silently. It is free and it is honestly one of the most beautiful things I have ever been a part of. If you’ve joined before this year, it’s the same zoom link. Again, email me to join.
I hope your heart feels pink, and soft, so ready for all that lies ahead as we reach the middle part of the year.
May all beings know safety.
In particular, tonight, I hold the people of Palestine in this broken heart of mine, and all that lay tonight in fear for their lives, simply for following their own hearts.
Simply for the ways their hearts expanded out towards freedom. The way their hearts sailed onwards, onwards, towards the light of hope.
I hold in mg heart 12 hearts that speak for so many more hearts.
How might we be more like the rose, with all her delicate and sensitive beauty?
How might we find ways to sail in these troubled waters, back towards humanity?
How might we let our hearts guide us onwards?
In bright brokenheartedness, which is really a way of saying: in hope.
Which is really a way of saying: with love. X
This week has been so hard for all the reasons you speak about, Kerri, and yet the hedges and roadsides are alight with the tender petals of wild roses, this year more than ever before, I think.
I am holding you with such love, Kerri. I hope you can feel it when we're together tonight. xx