What do you raise on your farm?

Dare I say out loud, "Pregnant space." 

The elusive space between 

visible and invisible, inner and outer,

self and other, past and future,

A place of forming, becoming, blossoming....

This morning, as clouds sit low and heavy--again,

The white tails of deer bob at the edge of the pasture

Near tracks that trail through broken fencing.

I can no longer graze my heifer here

Until we find a solution: better fencing? fewer deer?

All have their costs; we have no easy answers.

Beyond, a combine moves slowly through my neighbor's field.

Its huge metal teeth cut into standing corn.

It gobbles the grain and and spews diesel fumes and shredded stalks.

My dog barked at this giant last night,

As its headlights moved through another field,

Its driver guided by satellite precision,

The ground finally firm enough to hold its heavy imprint.

My neighbor is pushing to get his harvest in

before it rains or snows or warms

and this solid ground disappears--again.

Solid ground: where do we find it now?

The ground of our being is shifting.

How do we even know what is real?

Do we have the courage

to step

into the unknown,

To respond authentically

to what is before us, within us?

To connect with one person,

one moment at a time

and trust

that the New

will emerge in glorious wonder?

May our hearts attune to this birthing 

And savor the wild ride this Big Pregnant is!

Sally Voris,

Copyright, December 6, 2018