The other day as I was driving my son Ezra (10) up to Mt. Ashland for an afternoon of snowboarding with his friends, a most astonishing conversation arose between us, one that merits being recorded and properly honored in this way I love to with written words.
We were just driving along, slowly winding our way up the mountain, oohing and aahing together at the glorious sight of fresh powder clinging to mountain pines, firs and cedars. It was breathtakingly beautiful to perceive—this wondrous, earthy, snowy sparkle.
Suddenly Ezra turned to me, and with total sincerity he proclaimed: “I really love being in my body, Mom. Thank you.”
His words landed and resounded with precious significance.
Startled and moved by this incredible proclamation, I responded, “Oh Ezra. You really do love it, don’t you?! It’s such a beautiful thing about you, this way you love being in your body. I feel like you’ve loved it from the very first instant.”
He was quiet beside me, happily nodding in agreement.
Then he asked, with utter seriousness, “Do you remember the actual moment you conceived me, Mom?”
What a question! My thoughts went back to his conception, and I smiled at him curiously, wondering exactly where this was going.
Ezra just sat there staring at me, in total innocence, patiently awaiting my response.
So I answered, “Ummm….well, yes, actually I do! Your papa and I consciously conceived you, so we put a lot of attention and care and prayer into that powerful moment.”
Ezra looked at me with his deep-blue soulful eyes, and asked, “What was that like for you Mom? That moment when you and Papa conceived me?”
I felt a little speechless. I let my mind wander back, remembering everything I could remember about it—from the prayers before, to the candles lit and the lovemaking, to the amazing week that followed as implantation was occurring.
As though reading my mind, Ezra suddenly said, “I mean, don’t tell me the gross parts. PLEASE. Oh God, Mom.” He put his reddening face into his hands, shaking his head, suddenly embarrassed.
I laughed heartily, gripping the steering wheel. I replied, “I definitely know what you mean Ezra, but I promise there were no ‘gross parts’ about conceiving you.”
He looked at me again, shaking off the blush, and then persisted: “But Mom. Like—what did you feel about my spirit?”
It was clear to me he was really wanting the esoteric details.
So I told him: “Well, it was actually an amazing time, my Love. In the week after Papa and I had come together to make your body with our love, I was in a meditation retreat, and so I was spending a lot of time in stillness and silence.
And what I noticed as I sat there meditating, was that there was a brand new quality of light within me; something I had never felt before. And there was a way I sort-of felt like the universe was exploding and expanding inside me. There was so much light!
And even though I couldn’t be sure yet whether I was pregnant with you, in my heart I absolutely knew. I knew that this new light I was sensing was actually YOU, and that this brilliant explosion inside me was actually your huge, starry soul creating a bond with this tiny little microscopic form growing inside me. It was the most incredible experience to welcome you into life.”
Ezra was quiet beside me, listening carefully, deep in imagining.
Then he said softly: “I can almost remember it.”
I grinned at him: “I bet you can.”
He said: “We are both such powerful spirits, Mom. No wonder that was an intense meeting!”
My eyes filled with joyous tears, just feeling the mysterious luck of it all.
I asked him: “What part can you ‘almost remember’?”
He shrugged, softly. He said, “I don’t know… I just feel like maybe I’ve known you forever? You know what I mean? Like I already knew you. So when you made my body, it was like we got to be together again, and I was happy.”
I sighed, letting my heart hopelessly burst.
Tenderly, tearfully, I said: “Yes, it felt exactly like that for me too, Ezra.”
We were nearing the entrance to the ski lodge.
I pulled over the car to let him out, collected my emotions, and offered up, “Now you get to take this incredible body you love up onto the mountain?!”
He nodded, beaming, exclaiming robustly, “YES!” He added: “Thanks for driving me here!”
Ezra got out of the car, zipped up his parka, put on his helmet, and grabbed his snowboard from the back. I watched every move he made. I was still thinking about that tiny bundle of cells made from love, joining with such an enormous star of brilliant light.
He started off, all bundled and lugging his gear, then turned back around towards me, shouting out, “I love you Mom!”
I called after him simply: “I love you! Have fun and be safe!”
But inside myself I was thinking: Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for loving your body. Thank you for your sacred curiosity, and your open receptivity. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for this forever bond. Thank you for your life. Thank you for this Love. Thank you God. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.