Circles of Birth, Fire, and Death

In my journey, I saw my mother’s womb, holding me in the moments before my birth. The stars on the infant’s neck are the tender, vulnerable spots on my head and neck, which have been trigger points for migraines. I felt the safety of the womb, the strength of the umbilical connection, followed by the violence of the birth, the possibility that I was pulled from the womb, maybe with forceps. In the aftermath, my mother nearly hemorrhaged to death, in the first hours of my life. Her nearly lifeless body is shown on the left of the mandala, showered with blood and tears. My father thought she would die. The darkness above the blood and tears is the infinity from which we all come and to which we return. The darkness is what baby me felt, with no one to hold me, alone in the nursery.

Later in the journey, a great host of ancestors appeared one by one around a fire – grandparents, great grandparents, aunts, cousins. I saw myself join the fire circle, and eventually my children, their beloveds, their children. We all join the circle. Maybe we never leave the circle. So many tears fell as each dear one took their place around the fire. I could see the ancestors stretching back and back and back and back, all represented by tiny purple dots.