The Seed

There is great magic in the seed. Safe, secure and protected by a hard outer shell, the seed has a deep unwavering trust for the unknown. Dropping its protective layer is very risky, and for what? The seed has never yet experienced what it can become. Yet, dropped into the soil, with the right conditions, something within the seed stirs. An alchemy between the elements is born and awakens the life force of the seed as it takes the leap towards manifesting itself. Letting go of its shell, upward the new sprout grows, out of the soil and towards the light, towards the unknown. This same magic lives within us, our very presence here on earth provides endless opportunities to face the unknown, trust and grow, revealing our true selves unto ourselves... Making known the unknown over and over again, as we refine our spirits. Yes, every single situation – should it look dark and scary, or even light and simple… All situations carry that magic, a seed with brand new, one-of-a-kind, infinite potential.

In my experience, pregnancy and birth was a very potent time of transformation, filled with seeds of opportunity. One such a seed came to me after the birth of my son, Ho'ōla. Cultivating this seed of pure potential helped me to learn to tune into the power of mindfulness and strengthen my connection with my son when we had to be physically separated. 

Ho'ōla was an early arrival, coming forth at 34 weeks into my pregnancy. When he was born, he was immediately taken away from me to be cared for in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). My brain told me that it was what needed to happen and that he was in a safe place, but everything within my body and my spirit was completely devastated.  I wanted to tear the IV out of my arm, run into the NICU, pick up my little 4.11 pound son from the incubator he laid in, remove all his tubes and put him right onto my chest and nourish him with my breast,  the warmth of my body and the infinite love I had for him. I wanted to smell him, kiss him, sing to him. I wanted it to be just me and my son. Every cell in my body felt that something was wrong. I had just made the sacred initiation into motherhood, but my son was not in my arms. He was not at my breast. I was not able to be there for him. When it was time to leave the hospital at night, my heart broke into a million tiny pieces with no hope for repair. I could barely wait until the next morning so that I could go to the hospital and see my son again. I wanted to be there for him as much as I could and not leave him alone.

After a few days of this same routine, I was finally able to sit quietly and take a step back to feel into what had just happened and was still happening!

I've always had a deep knowing that every experience in life yields an opportunity for deep growth. It is up to me to open myself up to it.  So I allowed myself to sit there and open my hands to receive this seed of opportunity. My heart guided me to cultivate this seed, breaking down its protective walls and allowing it to pull me toward the light and blossom toward the unknown. Tuning into myself, I felt a heavy weight. It was there because I was not physically with my son. It was tearing me up to think about him all alone in an incubator. Especially after being so close to me, safely in my womb, hearing the drum of my heartbeat, feeling the comforts of my loving voice. Suddenly he was under bright lights with loud noises and strangers touching him, and I wasn't even there to comfort him at all times.  This thought sent me on a downward spiral.  Sitting there, I started to drift back in time and I remembered the connection I had with my son even before he was conceived. Before entering this physical realm, I felt my son and connected with his spirit.  I remembered that the spirit realm is very much a reality. Although in the physical realm I was separated from Ho'ōla, the spiritual realm held no space or time, thus our separation was impossible, just an illusion. With this remembrance, I felt the weight lighten and my downward spiral changed directions, lifting me up again. The very truth was that I was never separated from my son. We were together the entire time in the realm of spirits. At that moment, I knew that mindfulness and awareness of my thoughts was what I needed to focus on, because my son could feel everything that I felt. If I would say or think that I was sad because my son was alone in the NICU, then he would be feeling that too. From that day forward, I used mindfulness of thought as a tool to carry me and my son through the time he spent at the hospital. I watched my thoughts and sent powerful mantras to my son. When I pumped every three hours, I envisioned him nursing and being nourished by my breastmilk. I envisioned him surrounded by a protective light that kept him safe, happy and undisturbed in the NICU. My work during that time was mindfulness. Being mindful took what could have been an extremely painful and difficult time and transformed it into a gift that I will carry with me for my entire life. 

Village Journalist,


Krystal DonovanComment