Between an Aged River and a Newly Flowing Stream

Dear Turtle Bean,

Yesterday was your grandmother's birthday. She is 62 years old.

There are things about her that I know you will discover in time
like how she can create harmony out of thin air
like how grace is at the center of her heart
                even though she fails to grasp it for herself
like how when you're struggling she's the most compassionate ear and tongue on the block
                because she doesn't fail to grasp it for others
like how to love her is to hold her pain which is hard but worth it
like how being loved by her is supreme (yes, similar to the John Coltrane jam).

I want you to know, child of my womb, that her life has been big life,
in every sense of the word. And that you come from her.
This is important. You must understand this.
I know it won't happen immediately, as even I, at the age of 30
am still discovering what it means to come from her.

But this I know--
to descend from her blood line
is to be enthroned with a legacy,
one filled with promise and struggle (as it with every maternal lineage, I suppose),
where spiritual giftedness is supplemented by
histories of persecution, migration, survival-based fundamentalism and liberation
where leadership brilliance and precision come with
the seductions of ego-enhancement and possibilities to unethically dissolve
where passions of the senses bring portals for ecstasy and
cliff side walks with addiction.

These are bloodline legacies
that you will inherit (and this is only 1/4 of the bloodline!).
Though you are not restricted by them,
you are ultimately responsible to the spirit of them.
They will show up in your life differently
than they have shown up in grandma's life
or in your mother's life
but they will show up
because you, you you you
though singular and all-your-incarnated-own
are not separate from the flesh that has formed you.

Like any mother
standing between  an aged river and a newly flowing stream
I am struck with the power and mystery of it all,
struck with the privilege that I inherited being had by her,
struck with the privilege that I inherit by having you,
privilege of knowing I will get to witness and tend to
the next phase of it all through your precious life unfolding.

When mystery and power of this magnitude strike me
I am full of fear and trembling. Wanting to be perfect
to and for you. Wanting to absolve you of the stuff that inevitably
comes and racks the human heart with suffering. But such is not the case with big life.

If there's anything I've learned
from the 30 years inside the 62 years,
it's that perfection and absolution
are nowhere to be found.
But harmony, grace and love supreme abound.
This is your legacy, child of my womb--
big life. And we cannot wait to receive you.