I enjoyed the Christening in which my boy was given his name, ‘M’. I was wrapped in a girl’s christening robe – I know not whose, but it gave me a deep pleasure and set the tone for the exhilaration I would feel in those fleeting and far between moments when I was allowed into the body to express myself physically. I felt that tingling sensation in ‘my’ body – just for a while – a fluttering in the belly, the shallower breathing and raised heart rate as my whole being quickened with excitement in this wonderful experience of incarnation. Then the sense of sadness as I was drawn back into the cavern to hide away until the next time.
I watched over young M and felt the anguish of his brushes with death as his brother, our brother, tried to kill us. Firstly by tipping us out of the pram. I could but watch, as from behind a screen, and felt the fear of sprawling helplessness heard the desperate screams.
I experienced the suffocation when our brother filled our mouth with sand, the gritty sensation between the teeth and on the tongue, the gagging and gasping and coughing.
I remember that moment when we were fed the rubber teet instead of the soft warm breast that we had spoiled and made sore with toothy eagerness. The rubber teet protecting our mother but tasting like a car tyre. The first stage of rejection and separation. We were cast off from the womb and now separate in the world and he was lost without me. If only he would have known that I was with him and comforting him, but he was facing the other way and didn’t see me in the shadows. I spread my arms, but there were none, I reached out, but he didn’t see. He felt alone. And I, alone in the darkness, could not help.
I know that I am connected to the core of all being – perhaps in the same way as M was connected to me. If I turn around I see the loving arms of God outstretched – loving me eternally from within, comforting and strengthening as I learn and grow.