Womb

Poetry by The Irrational Sage

Sometimes life makes me want to crawl into a cocoon, under a rock, or somewhere restful and dark.

When I feel burned out, sad and/or overwhelmed, my hermit ways become more pronounced.

I tuck myself in at night with the covers up to my neck and pillows all around me. My cats are the night watchmen on guard like book-ends flanking the ends of the plush island that is called “bed.” I dare not let a toe slip out from under the cover and put all at risk to be awakened by the cool air and those furry soldier’s of the realm. No one can break through the energetic and physical fortress built up as I retreat into the womb-like space and drift deeply into sleep where I travel to other worlds, dimensions, or times.

Life feels more real in my dreams sometimes than this reality, which is which?

Why is it that we demonize the dark yet making forts as children or slumbering into a cocoon like sleep is so comforting.

For a few hours, I escape all worries and feel a sense of safety.

The womb holds the potential for birthing new life in all its forms, experiences swirl here first, waiting on the hands of Divine inspiration to pull them out and make the imaginary real.

Rabbit holes, like a womb, hold the same potential. Dive into the explorative process of truth, learning to discern inside the game of life, and bring up what is useful, living, and held in support of the Divine mother.

I rescued 3 baby rabbits this week whose mother was likely killed. The tiniest potential in the wittlest-wabbit-hole unable to sustain without help….fate could have dealt them a deadly blow, but this was not their time. They were meant to emerge from the cocoon and live life with full bellies and hoppity-hop-hops.

They reminded me of the importance of going into the stillness of the dark, of having faith that life will work out exactly as it is meant to and we must also help each other out of the dark rabbit holes sometimes when danger is near, when we feel frozen in time, when all hope seems lost.

Those bunnies weren’t afraid, they knew I was a friend, not foe. Animals know.

The womb of life is ever-present, from rabbit-holes, to caverns inside tree trunks, to our homes that remind us that we are all connected, that stillness in the darkness of the womb is restorative, that all of the elements contained in the essence of our being are held inside a material stargate of the Divine feminine, that we can swim through the ritualistic waters and emerge cleansed, restored and transformed.

What dreams will paint pictures beyond the world I know in my waking hours this evening? What aetheric waters will be the conduit for traveling by waves that are not of this time and space? What messages will the womb carry out of the darkest night, out of the longest cave? Where is the trembling flow of ecstatic bliss awaiting the awakening of the womb….the collective unconscious tomb birthing itself back anew, ready to walk on water and rise above the muck of a world drowning, lost from its remembering, seperated from the cosmic umbilical cord?

We must go into the blackness of night in order to see beyond the veil of existence, for it does not hide from you, but waits for you to crawl beneath its flowing veneer and finally learn to see in the dark….bring your light.