It is time to wrap up this end of September and dig into my soon coming Autumn holiday. I am thinking this while a walk slowly towards the Sun, my steps are cushioned by the wet shiny grass of the recreation ground field. The ground is soaked in water, I can smell it and feel its coldness under my soles. I let the sunset sunshine to penetrate my skin, warming my face, my expression becoming serene. Claudia is now snoring inside her sling. I feel grateful.
As I walk, the tips of the strings come together and all I learnt during this transitional month of September is coming to one piece.
Practicing sharing as form of connection
One of my evening treats is to lie on the couch, legs on the chair, pillows to support my back, elbows, knees… all the bends of my body resting on pillows. A warm cup of something, usually barley tea, steaming on the arm of the couch. Lights dimmed, leaving the small living/kitchen room peacefully silent, hugged in a warm soft light which calls the time to rest the body, to quiet the mind. Going through the pages of my favourite journal Breathe, I bumped into an article which perfectly matched the main theme of my reflections during this transition to the new season. The article was talking about the importance of finding the courage to share own creative pieces of art, particularly referring to writing and mentioning stories of “regular” people (intended as non-professional writers) which have been silently and secretly nurturing their talent without sharing it with anyone until their boxes of manuscripts were found by someone, put together in one book to eventually became a world class best seller. What I found very meaningful about this article, it is how it highlights the importance and the benefits of sharing to establish a form of connection and not to obtain an audience. Emotions that we put into words, paintings, verses, sculptures and so on, resonate in people that access our piece of art. People may recognize something that talks about themselves in what we have shared, and this creates a sense of connection, a feeling part of something that makes us similar. This feeling of belonging to something in common can be inspiring for others, which might take example from our experience. The article was also mentioning how the resistance to share own art can be linked to a block of our third chakra: Manipura. The third chakra is located just below our ribs, in coincidence of our stomach, just below our sternum bone. It is the chakra of productivity; it is connected with the element fire and, when active it makes us capable to activate our creative process. When Manipura chakra is blocked, we find difficult to activate our creative power. We can visualize our chakra as a wheel that has to run steadily as a mill. Imagine our energy to be the water that flows into the blades making the wheel running. As the wheel spins it makes the mill working and so the flour coming out from the grain. Similarly, when Manipur chakra is healthily active, it creates a leading outward energy that allows the transformation of our ideas into action. This way we become capable to allow our creative power to concretize and to release it into the world. When Manipura chakra is blocked, we might feel resistance to share. We put our breaks on, scared of other’s judgement and suspicious about people’s opinion or advice about our creative work. When Manipura is flowing, we feel trustful about our creative power and not scared to share it with others, instead we perceive the connection generated by doing so.
We can work on solar plexus blocks by stimulating this area with yoga asanas that make the solar plexus strong and flexible. The sun salutation it is a dynamic sequence which as a warming and energizing effect. It involves alternation of bends forward and backward of the upper back which are stimulating and strengthening. The repetition of three sun salutation can be a good idea to be included in our morning routine for its activating and awakening effects.
A wood is a community: connection between roots
I like listening to radio. What I like about it is the “here and now” nature of the radio programmes. Despite it is now possible to re-listen podcasts of a missed favourite programme at any time of the day, I find that it lessens the beauty of listening to a comment or a news that belongs to that time and date. It is a “moment in time”, citing my beloved friend and colleagues when she wanted to encourage me about labour preparation. This peace of interview that was made by Linus at Radio Deejay resonated perfectly with a blissful moment that I shared with my dad, when he came to visit us last month. We were walking at Hide Park after our visit to the monumental Natural History Museum. Claudia was asleep with her dad and my mum was way too tired and way too full of jamon serrano and ice-cream to walk, so we treated ourselves with a dad and daughter walk through the park. At some point, as we wanted to reach the Serpentine Lake as quick as possible, to avoid staying away for too long in case Claudia would have needed a feed, we cut the pathway so we left from the road and cut through the trees. As we walked on the soft high grass, stepping on the first crackly leaves that talked about an already started Autumn, I could sense the life that was going underneath. I said to my father: – can you believe? All these giant trees are connected underneath, they all touch each other through the roots. They form like a web through which they communicate between each other-. And I continued my spoken loud thoughts: – What you can see over the ground it is completely different from what is happening under the ground: they look far, they look like they can’t touch, but they do, in a way that our eyes can’t see but our hearts can sense-.
Autumn walks are something delightful, especially when made with open eyes, shut phones and open hearts. Hearts become capable to reach and touch each other as the roots of the trees, and that’s how they heal.
During the interview above mentioned, the botanist Stefano Mancuso was describing how trees that we see standing apart when we walk through a wood are actually closely connected through their roots and form a community where they are strictly interrelated. Trees exchange nutrients and information through their roots and create a community that keeps the wood an alive and evolving organism. I found inspiring and good food for reflection the answer that Mancuso gave to the question: what can we learn from trees? The answer was as such: – Plants are beings that create communities, always-. He sustains the theory that plants have learnt, a lot earlier than humans, a way of living and thriving as part of communities where everyone shares what has to share according to its own possibilities. It is fascinating to observe how plants can sustain another plant that is sick or dying. Trees are capable to keep alive a tree that has been cut which will continue to receive nutrients and stay alive, until the wood organism will require it to do so. In this sense, plants know. They have an intelligence that allows them to share following the rules of life. They are not stopped by fear of judgement.
My experience of setting up an art group to heal the fear of giving birth
When the time came time for me to prepare for my birth, I was looking for a way to celebrate the soon ending pregnancy and the soon coming motherhood. I wanted to celebrate this “liminal” phase, I needed to process the passage from my social role of midwife, friend, woman, daughter, into the new role of mother of my child. I started searching how I could do it in a way that made sense for me, which means that the classic balloons, ribbons and cakes baby shower wasn’t for me. I needed a rite of passage to share with my friends and colleagues the hugeness of what was happening. I needed to express the creative power that I was feeling inside me. At the same time, I needed support and empathy to be able to give voice to my fears around giving birth. I wanted to listen to others experiences to be inspired and reassured. I needed to celebrate my birth on all levels: emotional, physical, spiritual, social. So, I researched until I found something that felt right: I would have involved my crew of women in the crafting of a necklace where every one of us would create a bead. I equipped myself with self-drying clay, colours and brushes then I took time and space to sit myself under the first warm suns of April and started to make beads of different shapes. I let the hands working alongside the flow of my thoughts, avoiding overthinking which shape I was making. Twelve beads came out, I put them to dry on a piece of paper and meanwhile, I found a nice place to hire and gathered my life and pregnancy buddies, the ones that I knew would have come with open hearts and positive mindset. The result was unexpected and incredible. I opened the rite of passage with a physical warm up, we walked through the room, we stretched, we took hands, smelled a woody incense, listened to music, gathered in a circle and connected with the elements. We put some tables together and sat around it.
As we were painting our buds, each one of us in turn shared a birth story, or any story that would have involved giving birth or being birthed. They were laughs, tears, gazes of empathy. There was deep sharing of experiences and thoughts. At the end we shared food, and ended the gathering with pictures and greetings and good luck wishes. I went home with a beautiful set of buds that my friends painted for me and with me. I felt extremely grateful of this gift, I felt privileged of getting to keep some of their art with me, symbol of the experience they shared, as they translated it in a shape, colours and matter. I put them together in a necklace and wore it, and as I did, I felt a warrior, I felt strong and protected. I stored the stories shared as treasures in my memory and those words, gazes and smiles all came in help during my labour and they translated in encouragement. I knew I wasn’t alone, I was part of that circle, I was one of those women, my community, so I could do it.
giulia ciarapica, midwife 