grelf and the mushroom (A Fibroids Fable)

Thank goodness for the cracks in the pavement so we can keep coming through. Coming through is our nature and our supreme joy, like a big breath of ocean air when you take a paper bag off your head.

Speaking of paper... I had almost forgotten about paper tigers. Freddie just learned about them. He reminded me of their particular stripe. They look really fierce but you just go anyway and you find out they're nothing to be afraid of. My grandson, Freddie he's 7 years old and I'm trading in my massage vouchers he made and gave to me.

"What's this?" he asks, encountering the hard, pointy lump in my belly.
"Well", I said, slowly choosing words, "that's in my womb where I grew my babies, only it isn't a baby."
"What is it then?", he asks, with that wonderful unperturbed interest of a young enough child.
"Well", I search again for words, "it's sort of a mushroom."
"What's it for?" he asks.
"I don't exactly know yet...but I will."

My answer is, for the time being, perfectly satisfactory to him and now he refers to my lump as "grelf's mushroom". This new framing is a good thing; it makes us laugh but more than that, it helps me to remember about brown. I thought of the fibroids as brown but in the drama of the moment I forgot; there's something about brown that I love as much as green.

As I warm to this remembering, everything begins to re~form...

I'm dressed in my favorite
all velvety brown
to remember the mushroom
the stem and the crown
springs up overnight
as though from nowhere
Like magic, we happen upon them
just...
There!

Where did they come from
and why are they here
what perfect conditions
made them appear?
Conditions were perfect
we have to agree
for us to find mushrooms
under this tree.

Like magic they grow
and last barely a day
then wrinkle and wither
and compost away
They're here for the picking
one magical morning
passed over their prime
as a new day is dawning

So you harvest them fresh
and plan for a supper
For there's wisdom to sup
when the underworld's upper
There's something to glean
and you mustn't run by
what they called a fibroid
is really a fungi:

This fun guy popped up
to pull your attention
to matters of gravity
and dynamic tension
To matters of levity
and what needs to rise
to where you must turn
to fully realize
the potential you noted
and nurtured along
In the beginning was the Word
but the fruition is the song...

The night of the "quickening" (both suddenly shocked at the size of the lump) I went out to the clifftop after making love. I was not about to sleep. I sat on my most favorite bench, perched on the very very edge of the cliff, sitting with the sound of the surf and the body of the great Pacific Ocean. I began to tone in low tones, building to a rhythm. It sounded to me like the Tibetan monks that we had so loved to sit amongst in Lhasa. I became fully cognizant that the sounds I was making were vibrating in my base energy centers. I knew we should pull out all the Tibetan singing bowls. I knew that low resonance vibration was key.

So I leave it behind
As I metaphor on
As I pull in a new world
the other...
... Be Gone!