Welcoming An Old Soul

There is a magic about him. 

I knew the second he was born.  An overwhelming certainty in my gut that he had been here before, that he was mine but I was also his. Like we’d been put together for a reason.  I’d been chosen specifically for him. By him even.

In the moments preceding his arrival, during the early throes of labour, I experienced what I can only describe as an other-worldly epiphany.  Like a reverse déja-vû;  my present merging with flash-forwards I’d been experiencing for over twenty years.  It was as if forces had been pushing towards that day all my life.

People ask me what I mean; what is an old soul, how do I know?  It’s not something I had ever cast a thought on or previously explored.   All I know is that I have to respect my intuition, to harness for myself some of that raw spirituality that we so often lose upon entering rational adulthood.

I feel great responsibility not just as a parent but as the new guardian of this old soul.  To be mindful and watchful as he grows.  It is my job to protect and nurture his spirit, to be mindfully observant of his natural abilities and instincts, to encourage and not fear them and above all to love him fiercely.

Smudging is an ancient tradition and although not typically associated with birth, it felt appropriate to celebrate this way.  The arrival of a new life welcomed with an old ritual.  An opportunity to pause, to give thanks for this addition to our tribe and to meditatively consider the future of this little human.  As the bound herbs ignite and smoulder together so too will our futures; forever intertwined through the fog and fire of life.

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I chose rosemary combined with lavender, historically associated with cleansing and protection.  Charging the smudge with positive intention, the embers like his red hair are a symbol of the courage and determination I hope for him.

His name means merciful warrior and his presence calms my spirit like the scented buds that burn in his honour.  Wafts of fragrant smoke danced elegantly through the air, filling our space with promise and a peaceful serenity.

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I can only dream of all the things to come.  In the meantime I’ll remain content to look into those disconcertingly wise eyes and wonder at all the places he has already been, where – and when – he has seen.

Welcome to the world, Milo Jagger.  Or rather welcome back.  You are something else and I am incredibly lucky.

Mama. x

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