Birthing Peace

Bringing peace to the world through a child

by Janneli Vojta

One of the articles in The Foundations Of Peace (IC#4)
Autumn 1983, Page 40
Copyright (c)1983, 1997 by Context Institute

The foundations of peace may extend back beyond even childhood. Janneli and Scott Vojta live in Union, Oregon.

COPI IS THE NEZ PERCE word for peace. It is also the name - Cop Copi - of the valley near which we live. It was neutral ground; a place where neighboring tribes could come to gather camas roots, trade, smoke, and share stories. A place for laughter, a safe place to sleep...

It is also the name we gave our son. Not only because it is the name of the valley near his birthplace; but also because we wished to honor that deeper meaning - the peace within us - of which he, and all children, are an expression.

Our search for the perfect birth place led us to a meadow in the foothills of the Wallowa mountains, in northeastern Oregon. It was late summer, and I had wanted to give birth outside, so we pitched our tipi a month in advance and camped there awaiting the arrival. It might sound rustic - but actually we were only 15 minutes from our home; and 8 miles down a good dirt road to town and phones and ambulance services. Since I had had one uncomplicated homebirth before, was in excellent physical condition, am a midwife myself, and had two competent midwife friends as attendants, as well as a knowledgeable and supportive husband - I didn't feel like we were taking any undue chances. I had confidence in my ability to bear a healthy child, and in my midwives' abilities to handle any emergency should it arise. Actually, I derived great strength and confidence from my surrounding of forest, meadow, creeks and mountains. It felt perfectly natural to be there.

As the days went by, all of us in the camp began to relax into the surroundings. We felt like a family. I felt blessed to have my women friends so patiently sharing the last moments of pregnancy with me. Days passed as we went for long walks, played in the creek with our kids wrote letters and journals, sang around the campfire. We all seemed to relax and slow down into a life without the pressures of normal modern living. I felt myself settling into the quietness of the earth. With each crisp morning, each breeze through the pines, each soft rosy sunset I felt myself stronger and closer to the birth. The earth, with its perfect wild beauty and cyclical rhythm, has always been a source of inspiration and renewal for me. With the open sensitivity that pregnancy often brings, I truly came to feel and experience the quiet peace within and around me as One.

And so our second child was born. The memory is not one of fear or pain, but of joy. Labor was short and strong. The birth itself stays with me in the look of our daughter's eyes as she wakes out of a deep sleep to see her new wet naked brother in my arms. It is with me in the smiles and gentle eyes of sister midwives, and in the soft sure touch of my mate. Within an hour the tipi was dark and quiet; only the soft glow of the flames from the stove and the occasional pop of the fire. Our new little one, Copi, snuggled up close, relaxed and content; welcomed with a safe place to sleep. Outside the canvas tipi walls, coyotes sing. Up through the smoke flaps I watch stars, listen to the wind. Can't help but feel the quiet joy, the peace and sacredness of this forest, this night. Knowing that Copi feels it, too.

Gifts to a Son, Rising

by Scott Vojta

From a woman, from a man,
from the bioregion of their spirit mind,
a conscious conception.

From Cop Copi,
a center
a tipi home
a terrain for dreams unfolding,

From Little Creek drainage,
the landscape of love,
a bubbling brook.

From the earth,
energy to renew, transform,
and uplift
our collective spirit.

From the Mother Mountains,
the nurturing aspects of parenthood.

From the sweatlodge,
songs and chants
of a birth
yet to come.

From Father sky,
the beauty of a double rainbow,
the journey quest of shooting stars.

From Coyote,
assurances of strength in labor
and receptivity
to the power in us all.

From our sister friends,
the loving touch
of ones who care.

And from black bear,
the lifelong gift
of a name,

Copi Brook Bear

P.S. Copi is not a newborn anymore; he's a 3-year-old kid. He wants to play with guns, likes to crash his toy trucks, hits his sister sometimes... Does his birth, his name make any difference now? To begin with peace is just the first step. I like to believe he remembers. I know he does.

Please support this web site ... and thanks if you already are!