Holding a newborn baby is such a special gift, to me. I am looking at one of the world's newest people. I run my fingers softly over the curve of their downy heads, and let my eyes dance between their impossibly small toes, velvet-y soft earlobes, perfectly pouty lips built for suckling. I am quiet, smiling, and everything around me is pulled into the moment.
|Mom hair and yoga wear, I know.|
Soon, we will welcome a new baby into our extended family, and I am in awe watching this woman grow a new person. I felt special when I was pregnant, and I hope she recognizes her status as demigod, the carrier of a whole new being who still dances in the spirit world, waiting to join us. She is so radiant, beautiful, amazing and is earning special status as an elevated one of us for the next few months.
From Khalil Gibran's The Prophet:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.