To The Mother Finding Her Rhythm

ashleykayandy
Sep 1
3 min read

Mother Nature makes music.

I remember first feeling the rhythm of Mother Nature with my tiny hands stroking soft fur, wind in my light blonde locks, and bare feet in the lush grass. There was this patch of grass under the shade tree out front where the late summer sun hadn't yet scorched and the animals were watered in the shade. Mom would use the hose to water the flowers. Dad would come up from doing chores and rinse the dirt off his hands or grab a satisfying slurp of cool water from the hose. (Side note- why was well water from a hose on a hot day the most delicious of refreshments?)

I recall the vibration of farm kitty purrs paired with song of the finches and sparrows, the cooing of pigeons high atop the grain silo with the wind through the trees singing a gentle backup.

Yet sometimes, a mother finding her rhythm forgets the song.

We let ourselves go too long without hearing it. Instead of this song playing around in our minds, we instead choose playlists entitled "Busy" or "Stressed". These tunes take us on endless loops of unsettledness and dissatisfaction. They loop when we're in work mode, telling us that our worth lies solely in how productive you are. They play loudly when our children are having a hard time, with tracks that attempt to tell us we aren't doing enough.

Friend, I see you doing your best to put these playlists on pause.

You ever have a moment where you hear a song you haven't heard in years... even decades... and suddenly you're singing the lyrics and drumming your hands perfectly to every beat? The song of Mother Earth is familiar, and lives within us as much as it does around. And when reuniting together, you'll feel much greater peace. This is the song that charges your battery rather than depleting it, especially when moving into new seasons of being.

Transitions aren't immediate. Much like the shift from summer into fall doesn't occur in a day, your transition from summer to school days, mothering one child to two, tying shoes to worrying about your driving teen, raising children to helping your children nurture their own, being a fully independent human to having a little love depend on you for their very life, learning a new job or shifting careers, learning to live without a loved one physically present on earth, paving the path for positive change in your world... these shifts don't occur in a day.

mother (the author) and child, playing peak-a-boo behind a tree

When your little one was moving from a cute-little-potato-squish-of-adorable into a slightly-faster-more-expressive-and-bigger-little-squish, I'll bet you were joyful and patient with them. You probably even got down and grinned as you giggled and played, nurturing their growth. You didn't shame them or rush them, you simply did your best to enjoy the process (exhaustion included).

When they were learning to talk, you read to them and spoke with exaggerated phrases and expressive faces. You cheered on their new words and celebrated each new addition to their communication.

What makes you any less deserving of the same patience and joy?

You're in a shift, just as the leaves slowly turn or new life sprouts. Just as a baby learns to walk. You've never been in this stage of life before. You're journeying a new trail along your path and acquiring new skills along the way.