A Poem Inspired by Dance and Hoop Path

Farren Square 2009 Photo by Ester Malzahn

This poem came coursing through me at the end of the first day of hoop dance workshops with JL Baxter of Hoop Path, and I shared it with all 46 other dancers at the end of the third and final day. My hoop is my temple, and dancing is my prayer. It felt powerful to be in a room with 46 artists and dancers, dancing for the love of movement and the freedom of expectation.


My Ribs

I felt my ribs
          break     open
two birds were freed.
My heart is healed
by the teal tears
of my reflection.

The earth     holds me.

My fingers are roots my    h a i r
stretches  l o n g   like  b r a n c h e s
Song and soot of dirty sweat

          I ache

to be free
of these ribs

          I quake

at the whisper
of the air
of the linger.

The earth     holds me.

Healed by teal tears
the girth of me
feels my ribs
       
          break     open

and two birds were freed
inside my heart

-Farren

You may be interested in my Other Poems including:

"Scientific Method"

"Allowed Hibernating"

and

A Poem inspired by Burning Man.

Breastfeeding is a crazy (wonderful) thing.

You know, breastfeeding is a crazy thing.

Forget the fact that it is a hot-button issue these days. Forget that it is often disrespected and women are shamed for nursing publicly. Even forget the fact that people who don't understand it, often, for some INSANE reason, sexualize it.

Just think about how, for thousands and thousands of years, it was the only choice. It literally IS how our species has survived infancy since the beginning of our time. Wow. Not only that, but think about how truly complex and fantastic our human bodies - our mammal bodies - are for being able to not only create and store milk, but to transfer it to our babies in such a loving and comforting way.

Before I go any further, I want to make a disclaimer. I want everyone reading this to know how I feel about breastfeeding and mothers who do otherwise. There are no hard feelings here - and I want to stress that we all love our babies and we all share, cultivate, and bask in this love in meaningful ways no matter how we feed them. It is true that, unfortunately, some mothers have more success than others. But to all of you who have put a baby to breast, who have breastfed at all - think back to the calm quiet moments, even if those moments can be so few in those early weeks. Think to yourself - My body made colostrum, my body made milk and I gave it to my baby. I did that! 

Breastfeeding Then.

Maybe it is just that, in all my life, I had actually never considered my body's potential in this way. In the last decade of my life I have noticed a very profound appreciation for my body's potential in many different ways. I could jump, and climb trees, ride my bike pretty fast. I could swim fairly well. I rode horses and ran races and drank an obscene amount of alcohol in my early twenties. My body was great.

In the last four years of life, my appreciation grew deeper. I started sharing my poetry. And people other than me liked it! I met a handsome mandude who taught me how to view each experience as an opportunity to see art and creativity. I went to burning man and experienced a real community, a life lived without fear of judgement - FOR REAL - for the very first time. I realized that the most single important and incredible thing that we could do as humans was to create. We can create something from nothing at all - a painting, a poem, a novel, a dance, a warm moment, a hug, a crazy wild experience - from nothing but the pit of our minds and maybe a bit of legwork. My body was amazing.

And then I became pregnant and I realized that, though we both had a hand in it, I was completely on my own in growing and creating this tiny little life inside me. I couldn't help but ponder, as it squiggled around in there, how fantastic it was that I had a factory inside me for making more of me. I felt very connected to the women who came before me, who had carried the beginnings of humanity. I could sense the juxtaposition of how far we have come laid against what has not changed, will never change. But mostly I ate. And grew. And ate and grew, and the baby did, too, and my mind expanded along with us. This is crazy, I thought. I made a HUMAN BEING with thoughts and preferences and an idea about the world someday. And I'm going to push it outta me and then what!

Breastfeeding Now.

And then what? I started breastfeeding. And my baby emptied my colostrum. And my baby brought in my milk. And then, through those first days, that haze so thick with love, and soreness, and obsession, and sleep deprivation, and love - it struck me. Breastfeeding is so intricate; a mix of hormones, knowledge, support, instinct, circumstance, confidence, and science. Breastfeeding is at once complex and natural. It is so easy and perfect and yet at times it can be a struggle. And you know? It wasn't all easy for me, and I think it is okay to be honest about that, but I grew to love it. Ultimately, I was sustaining human life. An entire life, outside of mine. I was nourishing his every need with my body. This blew me away. Here he was, my son. And we could lay, stomach to stomach and doze. And he was being fed.

And then I realized. Our bodies are good and amazing. They are fantastic and spectacular! And breastfeeding is a crazy (wonderful) thing.

Happy World Breastfeeding Week.

My Body's Potential - A Mother's Body Image

I just gave birth 110 days ago. That really doesn't sound like a lot, and it isn't. I'm still processing a lot of what has happened in these last 111 days. For one, my entire perspective on the world has been shifted - there is not one thought in my mind that hasn't been altered by the arrival of my child. But I feel a physical shift, too.

My Belly - Shot by Maak Photography

I know I'm early in the game. I realize it hasn't even been four months since my body rose and swelled and then promptly deflated with the birth of my baby. But every day I look in the mirror and I can see the changes. I pull on my jeans and I can feel where I'm different. In pictures my face seems to be a new shape. My smile is deeper, sometimes I look more concerned than I intend to.

And for the first time in my life I have an extrinsic force motivating me to be healthy, not just a nagging voice inside my head. I do it for him and not for the reflection in the mirror and the societal expectation. A week after birth I remember marveling at my belly when it felt so soft and so empty, lifeless and striped with bright red zigzags. I said out loud: "I want to be proud of my stretchmarks because they gave me something beautiful, they are a symbol of my strength." They are pink-silvery now. Sometimes I barely notice them and sometimes I look so closely at them but mostly I accept them and let them make me feel powerful. My breasts, too, have changed - fuller and heavier than ever before, charged alone with completely sustaining a delicately tiny human life.

Today I stepped out of a shower and actually had a moment's pause to look at myself. I told myself to love my body for what it can do, not what it looks like. They way we love a good book or perfectly ripe avocado with rumply brown skin. My body is more powerful and amazing than either of those things. My body's potential is beyond exponential, it can make something of nothing at all.