The Vastness That Holds It All

This life is not fragile.

Fragile things break under pressure, yet life continues. Life holds birth and death in the very same breath. Only vastness can hold that.

When you look from the vantage point of vastness, you begin to see how much this human experience can contain. We are not merely the human, we are the vastness that holds the human. And from there, even the most shattering moments can be witnessed, carried, and allowed. If we were only this human, we would break. The mind, when identified with, breaks. It is fragile. But awareness, the spaciousness we are - holds it all.

Two weeks ago, I knew I was pregnant. The test confirmed it, and as we prepared to move to Queensland, it felt as though we were moving with an extra seedling onboard. A new beginning in every sense.

But life unfolded differently.

On the very day of the move, halfway to Coffs Harbour, I felt a change within. A release. At the next stop it was confirmed: the seedling had passed through, and I was no longer carrying. Grace was with me in the car, and I told Matty what was happening. I thought I had explained it gently, in a way a six-year-old wouldn’t fully grasp. But as soon as I hung up, with tears in her eyes she said, “But Mum, I just wanted to be a big sister.” Her words broke me open, and we cried together for a while.

Matty was on the phone constantly, torn between removalists and trying to reach us. He cried too, doing everything he could to hold us even from afar. His sister, who lives just around the corner from our new place, welcomed Grace and me into her home as she always does - her door open, arms wide. But that night she went above and beyond: a home-cooked meal, fresh towels, flowers, a card, even comfy PJs. All the small things that said you’re cared for, you’re safe here. It was exactly what I needed, not a blow-up mattress in an empty house, but real comfort, nourishment, and family.

At 2am, Matty finally arrived, walking straight into the room and holding me.

This man, who once could not sit with emotion, now simply holds space. He doesn’t always understand, but he doesn't criticises or questions. He holds me in my rage, my tears, my unknowns and now he does the same for Grace. He has no idea how incredible that is, to be here for beings who feel so deeply.

The crying of these weeks has been intense. Pregnancy hormones, the loss, the move - wave after wave. But I noticed something subtle: my tears, which always used to be hot and heavy, became cool, soft, and few. As though the deep release had moved everything stored inside me through blood, through womb, through tears. A clearing. And what remains is spaciousness.

Instead of the mind rushing in with questions, there was a spaciousness. My focus was with the body, and awareness itself was present. The mind wasn’t given air time, it was simply in its place, not needed here. This wasn’t its role.

There was no guilt, no shame only allowance. The body knew what needed to occur. And awareness simply held it. The mind thinks, but the body feels, and awareness knows. The mind is fixed; the body and awareness move with life. That is power.

And so vastness carried it all: the interstate move, the long drive, the role of mother, the release in my womb, the phone calls to Matty, the tears, the explanations, the holding. None of it crumbled me. Because what carries us is deeper than the mind, wiser, wider, timeless.

Looking back, I see the signs were always there, that quiet knowing you can’t quite place until it happens, and then it clicks: ahh, that’s what it was. This release wasn’t only the release of a pregnancy. It felt like the release of everything my body had ever carried from the area I’d lived in all my life, thirty-three years of being rooted within reach of the same familiar places. Not forgetting, but clearing what was unprocessed. And now, for the first time, I am in a state over 8 hours away, stepping into life with a new spaciousness. A release through tears, through blood, through the womb so that I could arrive here, in this new state, with space and expansion.

Matty and I sit together in awe of what we’ve lived through. We talk openly, even about the ickiness, and we find we can simply be there for each other. Our relationship has been a journey of learning, within ourselves and together. And now there is spaciousness between us, an openness to life, to each other, to family, to everything possible.

Life is vast enough to hold it all.