On my Mexican vacation there were only 2 golden days of mild breezes and sun. I was determined to bring some sun back home to winter Colorado with me, in my skin. I skipped my Vitamin D capsule those mornings and bared my skin.
The first day I used some natural sunscreen, following the dictates of the medical pundits. I broke a welcome sweat in the heat. I rotated myself on the rotisserie/lounge chair as I read about childhood during the time of Cuba’s revolution. I browned gently and evenly.
The second day I skipped the sunscreen. Again, the reading and rotating. I wore a scarf on my head when the wind picked up a bit, tired of hair whipping my face.
What about this tanning thing. Since I was a child, tan from playing outside all summer, I felt more myself when my Caucasian tone of skin darkened to a deep olive tan. Am I being nostalgic for my past lives of dark skin? I thank God/dess that at least I don’t burn easily like so many white folks.
My father’s skin was similar—tanning easily and staying tan a long time. Still, we are white under our swimsuits. Maybe I just need more time at my favorite clothing optional venue.
The question of heritage and skin color always comes up for me. My grandmother, who emigrated from Norway, said that we had gypsy blood. Dad said she was joking. I’m not so sure. While Grandpa had the blue-eyed, Viking build, Grandma was short and birdlike, with deep brown eyes and that olive tendency in her skin.
Maybe I’m not a white girl after all.
by Terra Rafael
26 January 2009
05 January 2009
Placentas I've Known & Loved
When I say the word “placenta” what comes to your mind? “Gross garbage”? “Bloody afterbirth”? Placenta means to me “nurturing companion.” It is what grows along side us inside the womb as our lifeline until we are born. It is disgraceful to send this essential partner in creating life to the trash. Finding a way to honor that-which-nurtures, in the form of placentas, is a worthy task.
Some people make placenta prints, having sheets of watercolor paper on hand at the birth, placing it on the paper and letting the birth blood act as paint to preserve the size and shape of this life-giving organ as a keepsake.
Others bury their placenta. My daughter’s placenta is in the mountains, near her father’s family cabin. We know which rock it’s under, near which tree and on which path. I like to go there and contemplate. Many people have planted a tree to honor their newborn and put their placenta in the ground before placing the tree in the hole. That way, it continues to feed new life. The tree grows as the child grows.
Traditional Chinese Medicine considers the placenta treasured medicine, drying it properly to pass on the life force in it to the mother, baby or anyone else who might need and want this potent boost to their body. One friend tinctured her baby’s placenta with the same idea in mind.
At many a birth I’ve served a placenta cocktail, and tasted a few sips myself. I’d cut a hunk off the newly born placenta about the size of a 50 cent piece and blend it with juice. This is especially indicated after long or difficult labors to fortify the mother with the large amount of nutrients & hormones still alive in the afterbirth. The foamy texture of the drink makes it different from most smoothies—it must have been the fats in it that formed the tiny bubbles. Tomato juice seemed more coordinated to the fleshy taste, but we always let Mom decide what kind of juice and whether she would partake in this practice.
Placenta is, after all, the only meat you can eat without killing. Even when I was vegetarian, I felt it was blessed, a special food like manna from heaven, given with Mother’s consent. Many animals eat their placentas after giving birth, both to strengthen themselves and to clean up birth smells that might attract predators. Certainly, I’d only eat placenta from someone who I knew to be healthy and free from blood borne diseases.
Some families went so far as to cook their placenta. It has a liver-like taste and texture when steamed, sautéed with onions or, like when following the wishes of one family, cooked with spaghetti sauce.
What ever form your honoring takes, may all placentas will be treated with the respect they deserve.
Some people make placenta prints, having sheets of watercolor paper on hand at the birth, placing it on the paper and letting the birth blood act as paint to preserve the size and shape of this life-giving organ as a keepsake.
Others bury their placenta. My daughter’s placenta is in the mountains, near her father’s family cabin. We know which rock it’s under, near which tree and on which path. I like to go there and contemplate. Many people have planted a tree to honor their newborn and put their placenta in the ground before placing the tree in the hole. That way, it continues to feed new life. The tree grows as the child grows.
Traditional Chinese Medicine considers the placenta treasured medicine, drying it properly to pass on the life force in it to the mother, baby or anyone else who might need and want this potent boost to their body. One friend tinctured her baby’s placenta with the same idea in mind.
At many a birth I’ve served a placenta cocktail, and tasted a few sips myself. I’d cut a hunk off the newly born placenta about the size of a 50 cent piece and blend it with juice. This is especially indicated after long or difficult labors to fortify the mother with the large amount of nutrients & hormones still alive in the afterbirth. The foamy texture of the drink makes it different from most smoothies—it must have been the fats in it that formed the tiny bubbles. Tomato juice seemed more coordinated to the fleshy taste, but we always let Mom decide what kind of juice and whether she would partake in this practice.
Placenta is, after all, the only meat you can eat without killing. Even when I was vegetarian, I felt it was blessed, a special food like manna from heaven, given with Mother’s consent. Many animals eat their placentas after giving birth, both to strengthen themselves and to clean up birth smells that might attract predators. Certainly, I’d only eat placenta from someone who I knew to be healthy and free from blood borne diseases.
Some families went so far as to cook their placenta. It has a liver-like taste and texture when steamed, sautéed with onions or, like when following the wishes of one family, cooked with spaghetti sauce.
What ever form your honoring takes, may all placentas will be treated with the respect they deserve.
01 January 2009
Why I Write
I write because it pleases me to put words to what thrills or devastates me. This delineation of my life weaves my experience together into a shawl that I can wrap around myself.
This shawl sometimes circles around me to pull me inward in meditation. Other times, its fringe is dancing around me, as I dance a celebration of my life and the circle of life itself.
Feel free to join in my introspection, my terror, my fleeting mind, my sensual delights and my celebration dance. And I look forward to joining your sentences when you share them. Together we write the uncommon greatness of the common woman.
This shawl sometimes circles around me to pull me inward in meditation. Other times, its fringe is dancing around me, as I dance a celebration of my life and the circle of life itself.
Feel free to join in my introspection, my terror, my fleeting mind, my sensual delights and my celebration dance. And I look forward to joining your sentences when you share them. Together we write the uncommon greatness of the common woman.
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