A New Moon Creation Story

Gravity pulls me down onto my knees. It tugs at my belly and chest. It hugs my hips and it kisses my brow. I lie in Child’s Pose for a very long time. Pins and needles tingle along the sides of my feet, and my forehead begins to numb. But I stay there. Supine. Gifted to the gravity of this moment. And the next. Because sometimes, sometimes it’s all you can do to surrender everything to the ground, to the earth.

Take this pain. Take this pain. Take this pain.

And take this sadness too. For it is not mine. And it does not belong to me.

The truth is that I was called into being upon the breath of the goddess. Her exhale pushed me out from the ether, and sang the atoms and the molecules of me into communion. Tiny fragments, smaller than I can even imagine, were gathered up, from more sources than I can even conceive, and the vital spark was lit. My heart… a fluttering collection of cells that powered my process of becoming.

I was created from the recycled stuff of life that has already tasted life in so many millions of forms. There is no part of myself that hasn’t existed before this current incarnation. And there is no part of myself that will not go on, beyond my death, in new forms, in new life.

This body that I call my own? This consciousness that I call mine? It is all only borrowed. And while I cannot know the return date, I do know that a time will come when I will be delivered back to the goddess. Called back into her belly on an inhale. Welcomed back into the ether as the atoms and the molecules of me dissipate and disperse.

All this skips through my thoughts as I lie there on the cold hard floor, head pressed to the ground, my tears now dried to salty stains, and the truth of my creation settles deep in my womb. It takes up home there – for that is its true home – for that is my true home.

Remember. Remember. Remember.

And cherish every moment. Because my life is only temporary. And it does not belong to me.