Ansel & Ajna

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…continued from the post ‘Unnamed’…

Dear Son:

You are 8 weeks today. We finally sent your birth paperwork, complete with a new name, off to Juneau.

For weeks I’ve searched relentlessly, obsessively for a new name for you. For one word that could capture all I experienced when you were born. All that followed you into this world, like a luminescent trail from the other side.

Your brother stayed dutifully invested in my hundreds of name options, weighing in on each while scanning your face for clues.  Your father remained patient, but neutral. He told me if there was going to be a new name, it would come in a moment of inspiration, not from pushing.

He was right of course. Nothing surfaced from my frantic searching. I decided it was time to move on. Continue reading “Ansel & Ajna”

Unnamed

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Dear Son:

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.

– – –

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. Continue reading “Unnamed”

The long walk home; 120miles for a hug

Three generations prepare; Grandma smoothing Colin’s hair & Colin adjusting my pack strings.

Originally posted August 2014 on RunPrettyFar.com

100 milers are like a vacuum-packed ziplock. Once the gun goes off you enter the bubble. Empty gas tanks, unanswered emails, dirty laundry, and the electric bill…they begin to fade in the protected confines of the race. The noise grows quiet and your to-do list becomes succinct. Food, feet, what hurts, big hill, Continue reading “The long walk home; 120miles for a hug”