Motherhood is a riot. I am constantly meeting myself again and again through the relationship with my children. Some days they are mirrors and when their sweet little eyes look at me, I am staring into the heart of the worst of myself. Some days they are little beacons, just nudging me toward a gentler way or asking me to look left instead of right. Some days they are the very scissors with which I am able to cut away everything that does not matter.
The ghosts of our past never leave us of course, and sometimes that ambitious childless city mouse gets sick of the whole experience and throws me off track. I long for a simpler life where I have more freedom to be and do whatever I want whenever I want. (Ha!)
Nature tells me that time is fleeting and every living thing is in a constant state toward growth and change. And I do lay myself down on the sturdy earth and let her hold me up when motherhood flattens me. But some days, mamas, it seems impossible to rise again.
The right set of words are like a li'l rope ladder I use to pull myself up again. I collect a few of my favorites and fashion them into a string of light. It's really a living recalibration that changes with my own seasons. Said while turning beads in my hand, it is a call to presence. I learned from my friend Joanna to make rosaries with nine beads for the Goddess. So my prayers have nine stanzas too. The one I'm repeating these days is a perfect companion to my white corn rosary with a lil turtle at the end.
Slow paseo, mama.
Allow yourself to be exactly where you are.
You are exactly where you are meant to be.
Trust the timing of your life.
Trust the evolution of your soul.
Everything happens for you.
Your job is to notice, then invite.
The work is the path.
Awareness is the goal.