In this breath I breathe.

Every morning when I sit down to write I wonder what will appear on the page as I type. It's a process of trust and release. Trust in the universe, believing the words will appear as I type, and release of my preconceived notions and ideas, my desire to control the process from the get-go and make it into something it's not.

For those who have read The Secret, this process is about the Law of Attraction. I believe the words will appear. I start to write. The words appear. But they're not just 'words'. They're ideas, thoughts, observations pulled together through the funnel of my daily life, plopped onto the page through my belief that, I have something to say... that someone is interested in reading what I have to say.... that I have a unique voice.

This morning I had an email from a friend who three months ago delivered her first child at home. She sent me the link to her blog which includes her firsthand account of the process, as well as accounts written by those in attendance. Her husband, sister, a dula and a midwife. What an amazing story. What an inspiring woman.

As her son grows into the world he will be blessed with a mother who was courageous enough to trust in her body to deliver a healthy baby boy while lying in a bathtub at home.

One of the aspects of her story that struck me the most were her comments around the visualization she used to carry her through the pain of labour contractions. As the labour progressed, each round of contractions intensified. As the intensity mounted, she trusted her mind to bring forth a new visualization in order to provide her the strength to ride the pain without having to 'think'.

It wasn't what she had planned. Originally, her idea was to use a beautiful scene of a mountain, lake, tree as her inner point of contact. After a few hours of contractions, the realization awoke that the mountain, lake, tree was too benign. It required too much thought to stay focused on it, and so she shifted her inner focus to imagine something more in keeping with the intensity of her contractions. Through each wave, that image shifted naturally, without being force-fed by her thinking, into an image that reflected her beliefs, principles, values. Each cascading wave of pain carried her into a deeper place where her inner voice spoke up and helped her deal with what was happening to her body.

As I read A.C's account of her labour and the birth of her son, I was awestruck by the beauty, power and wonder of the event. She was so in tune with her body. With the child within struggling to journey outward.

In my life, I have journeyed inward to find my child so that I could be free of the pain and turmoil of the past and its hold upon my present. In that process, I have given birth to the miracle of being me today. It has not been a process without pain. Without its struggles. Without sadness and sorrow. Like A.C.s birthing process, however, it has been a process which has resulted in my life today. A place where I feel the power and the awe of being alive every moment of the day. A time where my inner voice is free to speak up and be heard so that I can find my own unique voice every morning, here in front of my computer, or out there in the world at large.

Each of us has a unique voice. For many of us, it is a germ of an idea, a tiny seed gestating into a wondrous, amazing, magnificent human being as we learn to set ourselves free from the pain of yesterday into living life fully conscious today. Like a woman giving birth, using the power of her body and her being to carry her through the pain and the wonder of creating life, our journey outward requires a deep understanding of our principles, values and beliefs. It requires our commitment, and our faith. It requires our love.

As I struggled to find my unique voice, I often covered up my pain and sorrow with the pretty picture of what I thought the world needed to see so that I would be safe from feeling. In that process, I avoided sinking into the emotions of my life. I avoided letting myself slip into that inner place where I am at one with my body, mind and spirit. For many years, I held my breath in the belief that if I didn't breathe too deeply, I wouldn't feel the pain. I was wrong.

A.C. gave birth in a bathroom at home. As the waves of pain contracted through her body, she breathed into her pain, drawing strength from a place deep within her, a knowing place, a wise place, a place where her answers appeared -- not because she was searching for them, but rather because she trusted in them to support her.

As I journey through my day, I shall breathe. In and out. No matter what happens in my world, when I use my breath to sustain me, support me, and guide me into myself, I find my knowing within, so that I can live -- fearless, passionate, committed to being the best me I can be.

As I breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I imagine each breath filled with energy, with light, with love. As it enters my body, it is transformed into a life force that explodes through every cell in my body, awakening every muscle, every tissue, every organ feeding me everything I need to sustain life. Rich. Complete. Vibrant life. As I exhale, I imagine each exhalation carring my energy, light, love back out into the world around me. In each breath, I am connected to the universe. In each breath, I am renewed. In each breath, I give birth to the possibility of this moment as I journey freely through my day, connected through my body, mind, spirit to the world around me. Alive. Passionately, fearlessly alive.