I used to live by the ocean. I was smitten with her, nourished by the moisture and color she casts about effortlessly. When I moved inland, I was not sure I could actually survive away from these waters of life from which we were all born. A dear friend of mine recently migrated back to the coast and this has caused a tidal wave of yearning to surface for me again. Ah, to be close to the Source.
For our babies, we are the ocean. The waters of our wombs and our breast are their link back to the source. Our arms envelop them like waves and our songs lull them like the surf. They know where to come when they need to be recharged. But what can we mamas tap into when our wells run dry?
In June, the heat and drought has all but sapped the vitality of this land. I pray for saturated clouds rolling in from the far off seas. Yet, somehow I am thriving. I realize that I have learned to water my soul in many ways since I left my beloved ocean—deep female friendships, a few moments under the night sky, a tender hug. And, though I have felt depleted at the end of a few long summer days with my children, when I allow myself the leisure of drinking up their presence, I go to sleep with my cup full to overflowing.
There have been periods when I have been caught in a cycle of depletion and self-pity that plagues all mothers from time to time. No doubt I will visit that place again. When I do, I hope I can remember the truth that I am experiencing right now: when my love is fluid and my agendas are loose, my children nurture me as much as I do them. I have found a new source. But should I get homesick, we can always make a pilgrimage back to the briny waters of Ocean.