Nearly three years after announcing The Doorways Project: Midwives in Mexico, and taking a journey to witness the work of both CASA and One Heart World-Wide, I am writing this post. There has been something intangible about this project that has forced it to rest and pause and cause discomfort for me, as it has lingered, unfinished, all this time. I have experienced waves of profound guilt, especially as I received generous backing to make the project happen and was anxious to come through with my promise of rewards. But seasons of my life stepped in, and I, for whatever reason, became blocked from the flow of completion.
Yes, over the past three years, big things happened in my life. I was challenged. I didn’t have the creative energy to give the work the time and effort it deserved to make the most impact. I had to gently put the project aside while I tended to my body, my family, and my spirit. But, there was more to it. While I did edit and deliver the images to both organizations for their use as promised, created a slideshow that was viewed at Direct Relief International and online, and posted the gallery of images to this website, I experienced profound blocks, both real and imagined, to completing the translations of the personal interviews I did, as well as to sending the Kickstarter rewards and handwriting the notes of gratitude to my backers. And, of course, the more time that passed, the more daunted and ashamed I felt, and the vicious cycle perpetuated itself within me.
I believe that there are things that we hold onto to prevent ourselves from moving forward. What I have learned from carrying this unfinished responsibility for the past three years, is what it really means to see something through. By holding this project incomplete, and thus not sitting to the task of completing what I had held myself accountable for, I have had to face a litany of internal dialogue, not very much of it nice. I held the standard so high for myself, and having believed that I had fallen short, I was rendered inert to continue. There was also, I believe now, a positive tether that I was hanging onto, as well. By keeping this project on my plate, I sustained a small and potent connection to the work and service in the world that I hold dear, during a period of my life that was mostly spent inward and at home. And now, in the lightness of being that I find myself in today, I am able to wrap it up with ease and grace, express my gratitude, and let it go.
My trip to Mexico taught me many things, but mostly the lesson was in the strength of women and the value of community. What I saw was resilience and a willingness to show up and learn new skills. I saw seventy year old midwives walk miles of steep terrain to learn new ways to save women in childbirth. I saw generations of women exchanging knowledge and working together. I saw a sixteen year old girl who had already herself managed an emergent delivery and saved the lives of a mother and her baby. I was challenged by the landscape and awed by the beauty of one of the most grand locations on the planet. But mostly, I was taught humility.
And, perhaps, it was this lesson in humility that has finally taken root and allowed me to write this post. I humbly bow down to the women I met along this journey. I humbly bow in gratitude to the backers who supported my way there, and, somehow, through the ripples that I have felt since. I apologize for not saying so sooner, but I forgive myself now, and feel, somehow, that it played out as it needed to. I hope you understand. This one had to sink in, in a way that I never anticipated. And the doorway to freedom that I am seeing ahead of me now is wide open with the possibility of so much more.
I will, most certainly, pay this one forward.
With sincere gratitude to Jen Swezey, Sas Petherick, Gillian Da Silva, Bella Cirovic, Karen, William Vasquez, Mari Mitchell, Jo Hanlon-Moores, Anna Bunting, Kirsten Michelle, Jenn Gibson, Kathy Field, Eileen Haber, Evan Thomas, Ash Petherick, Jennifer Lee, Michelle Madden-Smith, Alessandra Cave, Annie Price, Julie Hirschberg, Amy Williamson, Sara Blackthorne, Randi Buckley, Maya Stein, Vivienne McMaster, Liz Marley, Belinda Carson, Bea Thomes, Heather Blancho, Liz Elayne, Leslie Lindell, Erin Faith Allen, Esmee and Andre, Jeanne Gleason, Gabriella Klein, Pen McKinley-Rodgers, Marisa Anne, Jeanine Brandi, Irene Nam, Ghiribaldi, Heather Plett, Patricia Christakos, Anne Van de Water, Stacy de la Rosa, Denise McCorvie, Christina Rosalie, Melissa Piccola, DeAnn Wilson, Christine Mason-Miller, Esme Weijun Wang, Leonie Wise, Pixie Campbell, Emmanuel Lambert, Marla Phillips, Carrie Kappel, and Gail Mooney. Your Kickstarter rewards are in the post. I bow to and thank each and every one of you for believing in me. And for giving me the time it took to believe in myself again.
what if this is it
what if now and never are the same
what if rising and falling are inconsequential
coming and going are parallel,
production and inertia, twinned
we pinch, jab,
riddles and illumination
tucked under the arm of
fantasy and fate.
meaning is applied
while love is known
i can’t seem to write a paragraph anymore.
order and exposition bent
in silvery clouds and
all i can conjure
is phrase and
and what if it is all random jest, anyway?
the marvelous beloved is everything.
what if blessing is question
god in the gesture.
glory in the gaze.
in all this far-off wondering
the hummingbird that just flew outside the door.
(my girl is now 18, graduating high school today. i have honestly loved every moment. sentimental? yes. nostalgic? yes. regrets? sure. proud beyond measure? absolutely. ready? yes. because she is.)
they come to me, lines, meetings of different.
like champagne vinegar in holy water,
or a spray of roses in a thicket.
lone lost lovely
a friend told me of her fondness for bible dipping in the dictionary.
i am reminded of how we all seek guidance, how sometimes
flipping a page and
choosing a word
can mean the difference between
dark corners and decision.
freedom and farce are exactly the same thing, depending on the angle of the sun.
from sinew to sunflowers, in
walls or in the world, under
blood moons and opinion
god, holy and hazed, a tremor in
no matter if i sit,
There is one ray of
light, then more. I open the
door, take one more breath,
and begin another day.
surrender me like a Sufi, a dervish in the desert.
careless of consequence, show me my path,
my greatest service in the time becoming.
i want burning bliss,
loud with tablas and tambourines, rebellion and rapture.
and sated sanctity, filled with a silence
that deafens the most foreboding of fears.
open me to what is next, show me the grandeur of this threshold.
help me to risk the touching, the torture of transforming.
lift me from wonder and into awe,
seat me with devotion.
there is tension at this crossing, chaos in my cells.
i am winded, unsure,
Who is not afraid of pure space–that breathtaking empty space of an open door? But despite fear, one goes through to the room beyond.
~Anne Morrow Lindbergh