My energy is shifting, pulling inward towards quiet and rest.  I am peaceful as I move slowly, as I walk down to the greenhouse to seed and water, as I sit in the doorway and look out at the mountains.

Inward, inward I go, finding it harder to listen to the stories of others, feeling a need to speak only of my experience now, unable to graciously stay interested in conversations that shift to comparisons as friends and family tell me they know how I feel.  I don’t have the space for the stories of others–I am filled with baby now, and the only story I want to hear is one that is not yet written, one that moves without words and teaches me to speak with my breath instead: out and in, down and up, empty and full.  Each moment brings the lesson of contraction and expansion, quietly preparing me for the waves of birth.