We carry the experience of separation, of trauma, of distance, of love and joy. We carry it in our DNA and subconscious. It makes up a part of us we don’t even know.
Parts of us know the smell of the soil of lands our ancestors lived in. The feeling of the air and the rhythm of the sun. Other parts of us remember the burden of separation, of pain and the deepest sorrow we could ever imagine.
We receive this knowledge and pass it to our children, sometimes without realising. It weaves its way into their being, their make up. It might be expressed through tendencies or an energy resonated.
So through carrying my child I attempt to provide an alternative narrative to the history of generations ago. A drop in the ocean of separation, of distance, of pain. I tell him that he matters and to be kind. I try to reach into his soul and tell him he is safe. I rally the generations of love and sincerity weaved into our existence and tell him to love himself and love others. I acknowledge the trauma of past generations, both received and exerted, in an effort to raise a responsible, conscious man who knows heart.