You are almost 7 weeks old and I still haven’t finalized your birth certificate. Waiting on a desk in the state capital is that important piece of paper, with a blank line where your name should be…sitting in a hold bin until I release or finalize my obsession with finding your SatNam.
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You arrived, like all babies do, nameless and soaked in God. In that transcendent moment, your spirit of gentle peace and love washed over and transformed me. Your eyes of deep inky marine blue, locked on me with calm intensity, transmuting wisdom from the other side. Those unblinking pools consumed me, revealing your truest Self and connecting me to the place you’d just come from.
A place I saw while delivering you, behind my third eye. A field of infinite indigo. A midnight violet forever. And just beyond my reach, a white orb like the sun. I knew I was inching toward the light with each breath, but I didn’t know if it was your crown or God. In the end, it was both.
I pushed you out and you pulled me in. Into the still deepness. Into the light. And for those first moments – you and me and God held each other fiercely, tenderly.
The magnificence in you is not fading, as God never fades in us. But my ability to perceive it slowly is. I have fallen back to earth – to root fears, human duality, habits of scarcity. I still smell Heaven on you, but I know life will try to claim it.
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I carried you for almost 9 months on a powerful island in the Aleutians, known as the birth place of the winds. Before you were born, we ran up the treeless mountains and took naps in the soft, spongy tundra. We walked hundreds of miles by the sea, stopping to pray in the sand. Every day I prepared myself for you by moving on the outside, getting still on the inside. I breathed in the wellspring of Aleutian wind. A cleansing wind, a relentless wind, an ancient ocean wind. I think I breathed it right into you.
In those first days, when I looked at you, all I could see was a little sea turtle. Floating and observing. Not even swimming, but content to simply be in the flow of your black meditation pool. I saw the other marine creatures around you. The jellyfish, the sea otters, the whales, even the rare sea birds that people from all over the world visit our island to catalog. I don’t know all their fancy bird names, but I know we waved to them appreciatively everyday while we walked. And in those first days with us, I saw you constantly surrounded by an aura of dark purple-blue, back-lit with oceanic luminescence.
For weeks, I’ve searched for a name that evokes this watery vision and what I understood about you when we first met. I’ve rattled my brain, scanned all my spiritual books, and exhausted the internet…searching for that one name I missed. The one that means: one who sees, who is present, who is in the flow, who came from a sea of stillness, who is calm in the storm, and who is forever gentle, loving, and good.