Vertigo on the Spiral Staircase

When my son was born, in the moment after we both were dried & settled, when I took him to my breast to give him his first milk, I was slammed with the vertiginous knowledge of my own place in the generations.

I saw myself in that moment as one in an infinite regression-progression of untold mothers from the dawn of time.  Each living thing that ever existed had been born through Her/my body, just as all life from now to eternity would, just the same, pass through the body of the Mother.  An unbroken chain, an infinite Matryoshka, always on the brink of the unfolding spiral.

We keep our pace, noticing that no matter how we move onward, we remain ever at the center of the experience.

Downward and inward we go, through the generations, descending the circling staircase through time.  The next steps appear without fail at our feet, materializing from out of the darkness — the steps of generations past receding beyond our reckoning above us.  We keep our pace, noticing that no matter how we move onward, we remain ever at the center of the experience.  Always there is more to unfold, always that which has gone by is beyond our reach.  We walk on in this way, finally seeing that we are nothing but the flowing unfolding motion of the spiral itself.

Ever expanding, transforming, becoming, we are.

She is the living body in summation, her glorious being rising and falling, cresting and flowing, onward and inward, dreaming Herself into being.

Matryoshka doll | by Jorge Lascar