earth mother

The earth is at the same time mother,

she is mother of all that is natural

mother of all that is human.

She is the mother of all,

for contained in her

are the seeds of all.

Hildegard of Bingen

Earth Mother by Jaine Rose

taking care of the mamaself

During a recent trip my mom stayed at our house. She commented on how good the house smelled - the soaps, candles and even cleaners I use. I admit essential oil soaps and candles have been a splurge pleasure of mine for some time. Its a small luxury that makes a big difference. When I visit my dear friends' home at Common Place Farm, I always wish that I can drop out and start homesteading on their land. Not an option yet, but I can bring the farm home with me in little ways. What the soaps provide is a daily meditaiton to slow down, be attentive to the moment, and grateful for the luxury of warm water and earthy aromas. Here are two of my favorite soapmakers - Beekman's C.O.P.A. Soaps and Indigo Wild. Enjoy.

Pitting Cherries

Pitting Cherries

Slicing the swollen ruby fruit
with my paring knife,
I attend to how the skin separates
yielding its hard dark center
while trails of juice
chart paths of sticky sweetness
down my sun kissed arms.
I lick them clean;
each cherry a love child
formed in mama’s earth womb.
Savoring the ripeness of this day
I swallow it whole.

When nature feels a bit exposed...

One damp March day I walked by a Park Avenue high rise and looked down into the well manicured landscaping. There was an early hyacinth pushing forth from the dark earth. Mama Earth's sensuality and her raw exposure of life's birthing process, creation itself, left me short of breath. I blushed and turned away.

for max, my little buddha

Two days old he propped up his head

with a tiny hand foretelling the young

boy that tonight slumbers in bed

“Savor it all,” Sara, my neighbor, sung.

I know this pose must have been

something practiced while forming in me

a hand, resting on his little chin

at peace, buoyed by my salty sea.

A memory of that sacred place

held in deep darkness and water so warm.

Sensei asks, “How did your face

look before your parents were born?”

Oh, those riddles mean nothing now.

Only this – kneeling and kissing his brow.