I love abortions.

A prayer for the holy days.

I am deciding to share this now, on this Solstice/holy day portal we are in, the crossroads. And though historically inaccurate timing for the birth of actual Jesus, it’s accurate in the sense that there has been an ending of a time, a releasing, and a sun/newness returning beyond the long dark nights. He brings hope back to his Mother.

I am sharing this because I am devoted to the Mother. In all her faces— Virginal, wild, Kali-like, Addolorata-like, sensual and ecstatic, Isis, Astarte, fertile soil and dry desert dust. Volcanic mother. Salt Mother. Mother of God. Immaculate heart of Mary. I think, for some reason, this is a good time to just hit publish, even in it’s shaky, raw, incompleteness. Even though it’s terribly undone. Even though it’s neither here nor there.

We can always finish things another day. We can also just create and release and allow that to be a really moving kind of practice. No matter what, finished or not, our writing is alive, even when it’s sitting in google docs for months and months, and like all living things, it wants to just move, alchemize, be seen.

Here is my attempt to practice what I teach.

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I love abortions.

Dear woman, I write this on the day I sat with you as you had an abortion.

It’s been almost 2 hours since you took the first 4 pills. I am just scratching notes on my phone as you release creation. I am writing this out as a prayer for you.

I went outside to have tobacco, not just to smoke, but to offer the smoke to the river. The river has become my elder. No matter how far away I am from the banks, I can sensory locate where I am by knowing where she flows. I can always find her. Feel her. I sat and smoked and let it all be a thank you for the river, and what she releases and moves through.

As I was outside, I saw a shadow in front of me, on the street. It was of a large bird with an open wingspan.

I looked up and saw a hawk gliding over my head, to catch a thermal for a moment, mesmerize me, watch it circle over me without effort at all, swiftly turn, and then fly in the opposite direction.
And then was out of sight behind the houses down the way.

The spirit is moving on. That was clear when I saw the shadow and the hawk and the movement. It was so beautiful, stunning actually. It was so apparent and clear. Life is alive, beyond form.

In death and release there is only something so mysterious we have no idea what it could be but I call it mystery, and life is mystery, so it must be life. There is no doubt in my mind that you are releasing life, and life is often, and always, meant to be released.