We, are unfolding. It is a time of expectancy
and we’re at the brink of Birth. Already, the water’s broken
the contractions have started on personal, national, global scales
Our work now is to lay back and let the body PUSH.
There might be a brief flash of pain as the baby comes out.
But God in his mercy will cut short the pain and the period of labour.
The work is to lay back, be open, be still and PUSH, when we feel, it is time.
We’ve been in labour so long, we’re horribly overdue.
All to do now is to lie back and be still to listen, to trust and obey.
In the past we sometimes got hyper-active and would stand up-agitated
just when the baby was at the brink of emergence
when all we really should have been doing was lying back, trusting, lying and being still
and knowing….He is God.
Lately, i draw a substantial amount of stimuli from poetry. I bumped into this one today and felt inclined to post it here. Largely for self, but in no way thus restricted.
Putting this piece in context, the year is 2000, freshly, graduated from college and relishing my first job, first paycheck, first bank account – Postbank, (in those days, bank cards were for the affluent, so we had bank books,clumsy ones at that, but that was then, and it worked best) firsthand experience of awkward freedom *i still have curfew* first investment experience Nairobi Stock Exchange, I was a shareholder, an owner of one of the best companies locally *EABL* I start thinking about my first car * yes i had a fat purse* I want a toyota starlet or VW beetle *old school* and actually start looking around until dad breaks it down what owning a car really entails. I ditch the thought instantaneously. I obtain a megarider and become a consumer of my hard earned tax deductions *moment of awareness* in my native tongue, i was now officially a jui húúre loosely translates to *on my own* or so i thought. I was wrong, The year is 2001, time to stow away to alien lands in pursuit of literacy. I still remember the mixed emotions. The adventurous me was aroused and i was ready for the unknown. Penning down my experiences through this decennary does them no justice for they are ineffable.
Back to the poem. Birth, is synonymous to a dawn, a creation, an outcome after struggle and toil. My lifetime has bore amazing creations, conceptions all bearing these characteristics. Another native saying analogizes this in relation to a woman *bearer of life* Ítunyagwo mbúí ní gúciara which translates to ‘a woman’s beauty is spoilt by maternity’ a more conventional translation, would be ‘a plant looses its blossom as it bears fruit’. So does this mean that as i continue in my pursuit of fruitfulness, i loose my blossom, my beauty *whatever you define yours to be* probably, YES. Yikes! scary, I always want to correlate my outcomes with longevity and not the opposite.
In one of my past posts, i quote Criss Jami ‘ As long as i am breathing, in my eyes, i am just beginning’ so am auspiciously cognizant to this symbiotic relationship between blossom and wilt. Another of life’s paradoxes *note to self* So does it necessarily mean that a life that bears no fruit is blossomed and filled with charm? Absolutely NOT. So just as in the poem above, I must push, give birth to, produce, for in fulfilling this possibilities, callings or expectations, i guarantee my timeliness, i avoid being horribly overdue and position myself in a place where I can trust a superior being.
I wrap this up with another native saying…gútire úndú útarí kíhúmo. *everything has a beginning* Take every new endeavor as a beginning and realize that there is a very high likelihood that blossom will manifest in productivity.