Lately I’ve been pondering the moment of human conception, and how epic and mysterious it must be. I mean, it’s how we all got here, yet, not something we talk about, let alone remember. I’m tempted to say it’s something we all experienced, except we weren’t an actual we, or person, until the union fusion between our parents.
When I hear about the Big Bang Theory I have an inkling of a feeling, conception is similar to that, on a smaller scale. There’s almost a violent element to it, when you consider the sperm forces itself into the egg, like forced entry. This only happens after a fierce race between a million other sperm, after which one sperm will make it into the egg, rendering him the victor – and the rest will die. Two sperm win in the case of fraternal twins.
It sure doesn’t sound like a day in the park to me. Yet, here we are, our sperm guy’s triumph, the catalyst to our existence.
I often use conception, gestation, and the birthing process as metaphor for certain experiences. I don’t fully understand the whole process, in an embodied way, and still I find myself intuitively drawing similarities. Which makes me think; maybe I do remember more than I give myself credit for.
I’ve been on the mother side of conception and birth, which might partly explain why I make reference to it concerning other areas of my life. Even though I’ve drawn similarities between situations in my life and what it’s like being in the womb, I can’t possibly know from that experience alone.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this, besides wanting to illuminate and celebrate human conception. It fascinates me that it happens independent of any mental process, and that beauty becomes of it. Minus all the social-political dynamics surrounding the right to choose debate, it’s a beautiful thing.
Oh, here’s where I was going with this. I want to remember to approach and accept those areas of my life resembling conception and the birthing process, in the same way nature asks us to, regarding human creation.
Some amazing things have been conceived and birthed from within me; the birth of my own children, the creation of art pieces, starting up community projects with the local youth, to name a few. The commonality between conception and birth, and certain experiences throughout my life, is, they’re always conceived independent of me. If I mess with the gestation or actual birthing of them in any ego kind of way, I risk spontaneous abortion. I’ve done that before. The guilt trip isn’t worth the satisfaction that comes from meddling.
Some projects are like the pinecone you see in the photo, they fall to the wayside. The reproductive organs of the pine tree are full of potential, and not all of them produce offspring. I get that too.
The note to self is this, things will be conceived within and through me, gestation can be long and treacherous, and, birthing something a thousand times bigger than when it was conceived, isn’t guaranteed to be easy. As with the birthing process, I often forget the moment an idea or project was conceived, and the endurance it took to bring it to fruition. And consistent with birth, once I see the beautiful bundle of joy I want to do it all over again.