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My babe lies next to me, skin to skin. She’s curled up within the curves of my breast and belly. We’re nursing. I have my hand on her back. I smell her sweet baby scent.

This is oneness I think. The closest feeling of oneness I’ve ever had.

Of course, I’ve heard that concept before. I’ve felt at “one” with everyone. And, I realize now, it was in a sort-of etheric, esoteric, heart-feeling kind of way.

This, this is different. I made her body in my body. I carried her for 9 months. I birthed her into the world. Since then, I’ve been trusted as her keeper. I nurse her, keep her close and warm. Keep her happy, healthy, clean. I shower her with love + attention.

She is of me. She needs me to survive. I realize, I’ve never been so close to another. I suspect not even my own mother.

There’s something about motherhood that feels like I’ve slipped into an alternate dimension- a new reality with different rules. Here, in this place, my only charge is nurturing. Here, I’m deeply fulfilled by tasks mundane to my younger, maiden self.

Here, sleep, food, showers and being grounded with my young one, nursing in the rocker, these make up the important pieces of the day. Prior, it was about dreams and socializing and new outfits, money, time with friends, feeling good, expressing myself, growing and learning.

Now, it’s about routine. Structure. Care. My glider is my favorite chair. My water bottle my steady companion, and my angel, my primary concern.

I sleep when she sleeps. I eat when she eats. I play when she plays.

I remember when I was single I felt kind of sorry for moms. They didn’t have the time or space to do whatever they wanted. They were consumed with crying kids and dirty diapers and messes to clean.

I didn’t know that all that is part of the job and matters not, as they were fueled by closeness, bonding hormones, nursing quietly together in a corner, or a favorite chair. Knowing you exist to give joy and love to another, knowing your purpose, and your north star forevermore, is an incredibly anchored place to be.

I was living life and having fun, and there’s part of me, I can see, that was adrift on the sea.

Motherhood rips your selfishness out of you. It recalibrates your heart to beat to the drum of your spawn.

Oneness is a concept that says that there is one God head, one great and holy spirit of which we are all a part. There is no separation between who you are and who I am.

Yes, of course, you have your personality, I have mine, but the life-force that permeates our bodies and energy fields, it’s the same energy, of the same source.

There is no purer way I’ve known to experience this validity than to have a child. Sophia was made of me, came forth from me, and is in my care for so long as I live.

If ever I questioned the spirit of another, there’s no denying now that we are one and the same. Spirit, holy spirit, is what animates you and me.

If you’ve not had this visceral experience yourself, or you’ve lost touch with it lately, gift yourself the feeling of knowing you’re part of it all.

Go for a walk in nature. Sit by a stream. Meditate. Dance. Go to kirtan. Gaze into the eyes of a child. Play with a puppy.

Gift yourself the experience of joining with the one source energy that is the great and mighty All.

Surrender your worries at the altar of the Goddesses, God, Great Spirit, or whatever you want to call it and rejoice in knowing that you too have a Great mother/father who created you and you’re not alone.

You’re here, made of flesh and bone, and lit up by light.

You’re loved, and you’re a part of something greater.

Here’s the way I think of it. If God is all pervasive, and God made everything, then nothing can be not God. So, we are one. Same same.

We’ve only forgotten where we came from. To return home, go in. Anchor in to yourself and find the ever-expanding oneness inside of your being.

All my love,

Rachel Claire