Welcome to becoming land
We are living in times only foretold of by a small smattering of blessed bodies who absorbed the gravity of the times they were living in and paired that imagery with what a future might look like if these experiences went untended. And, so many experiences have gone untended. In recently re-reading Octavia Butler's books Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents, I can personally see that it's those of us who live at the periphery who most often dream up a better future and can envision what's to come if we don't learn from what's already transpired.
Let me be clear that I do not want to live in either of Butler's brilliant storylines. Yet, in a multitude of ways, we are all already living through a version of some of the more muted and less terrible events.
With Holocaust and slavery deniers holding hands, we're invited into some strange sort of game of Red Rover right now. Can we make it through? Can we break this White Nationalist, Exceptionalist, Supremist, Ableist bond that has manifested and been maintained for hundreds of years? If so, how? And, why does it matter if we do something, anything, to create change? As soul tenders (the term I most-often use for our mothering, caregiving and companioning bodies), I believe that we are the most important time travelers of this moment, right now. Why? Let me be oh-so clear...
And thus, this is the premise of Becoming Land and my work. In the midst of all the socio-political unheavel of this year, my youngest child - my brilliant, neurodivergent, wild-child - went off to "real" school. Public school. On that first morning after drop off, I began to envision how I could best meet her needs if I'm not able to walk her through each and every challenging space she encounters. Not surprising to my nature-loving soul, the only vision that I could muster was one of becoming land...
The poem birthed from that moment went like this:
how do we keep the children safe
she asked with one hand
o'er her heart
and the other embracing
a body with freshly-sprung wings
the angels sighed at her question
one giggled
another laughed as if she missed an inside joke
gently, they reminded her that every soul
needs a solid place to land
The intention of Becoming Land is to be a weekly publication dedicated to the holy, wild work of soul tending. For me, it has been my lifelong longing to be a safe place to land for every single person I meet. I can't say I've been perfect at it. And, as a mother recovering from an abusive past while parenting with disability, I have put every ounce of energy available to me into giving my children a different experience of life than the one I have had. In my decade-plus career as a doula, it was my goal to make sure that every mother and parent possible was seen, heard, held. The care we receive as caregivers ripples out - impacts generations.
One Question
Culture and I may differ in our approach to this topic right now. We soul tenders, mothers, caregivers, and companions have a "natural" tendancy to want to impact others before or without tending to our own souls. We've normalized this. And, it just doesn't work long term. (I promise.) So, I ask you what I've asked myself a thousand times over the last 15 years of parenthood: how can we become all that we are made to be without coming home to the self first? Spoiler alert. (Insert grimmacing face emoji.) We cannot be a safe place to land if we are not landing.
Before we part ways, I want to leave you with just one question:
Don't change anything yet if this feels overwhelming. Maybe have a dance party as you're thinking about this answer. Take your answer on a walk in the woods. Write a poem about it. Meditate on it or lay it at the feet of the God of your understanding. You can even sew it into a new tapestry that you've been working on. And then, decide what's next. There's no rush in our becoming. And also, I can think of no more worthy a desire than to become. Especially when the goal is to usher in more safety and belonging, dearest fellow soul tender.
