my last 100 days


This past week I found much needed balance between working and self-care. When I allowed myself to be still and quiet, I felt a tidal wave of grief overcome me. A river of tears surging out of me.

Because in that silence I found myself facing my own death as who I’ve known myself to be and the overwhelming fears around my rebirth as a mother.

I give birth to my baby, and to myself, in about 100 days.

Earlier this year I had shed so many layers of myself, stripping my identity and ego, which led me to get pregnant in the first place. I thought I had gone through the death of my old self already.

But what I realized is that we go through many little deaths, all part of life, and when we allow ourselves to grief, we create greater capacity to accept the birth that is about to occur.

I’m in and out of it, oscillating between the great joy of being in love with my work and the expansion of Sistership Circle and the great grief of the inevitable change right around the corner.

I can understand and empathize with post-partum depression as it settles in that life will never be the same.

I’m so grateful that I am facing this now before the baby comes; to feel the grief and mourning fully, to accept it as it is.

As I feel it, I let it go, knowing it may come back tomorrow. In that empty space a new question arises:

If this were the last 100 days of my life, what would I do? What do I want to get out of it?

And so here I am, living in the moment, following my desire to take a last trip before my death to the Bay Area to see some of my sisters, take a final cleansing dip in the hot springs at Harbin, be in Circle on Tues, and revel in the memories of college at UC Berkeley.

What else do I desire?

When it comes to sex: slow, soft love making.

When it comes to exercise: gentle, easy stretching and walking.

When it comes to eating: delicious, rich, organic comfort food.

When it comes to relationship: meaningful, deep conversation.

To be enveloped in a warm soft blanket. To be cuddled, and hugged, and told that I am loved.

To sit in 10-days of silent meditation, just I imagined last year during my annual Vippasana sit.

To spend time in nature.

To write.

To laugh, cry, sing and dance.

To empower the leadership in Sistership Circle.

To be me, and express all of me.

I am already doing all of these things. I am already living how I want to live. I literally have everything I need and am happy with everything I’ve created.

There is more I would love to experience and do, but I feel fulfilled in what I have accomplished.

So this birth/rebirth – although scary and overwhelming – feels like the next natural evolution of my life. The next era, the next edge to walk on, the next level of embodying what I learned during the first half of living on this planet.

I may cry again tomorrow and next week again and next month, as is natural when grieving. That is the great power of the feminine: to feel it all so deeply. The joy and the grief all at once.

Thank God I am a woman.
Thank God I am a human being.
Thank God for this life.