Being: Conscious, mortal existence; life.
Every month we welcome two families, two people, two voices to share their stories in whatever way they chose. We hope that you find joy in their daily lives, and their simple habit of just being.
No matter the rhythm of our days, as mothers, we are like a flag, at the mercy of the wind, furling and unfurling, snapped to then fro. Folding little ones under our wings only to spread those very same wings moments later, chasing after them, their peals of laughter like a trail of crumbs we follow in our pursuit of them, in our pursuit of the memories we’ll savor down the road. Day in, day out we orbit around these little lives alternately buffering and guiding them down their own paths, by turns fighting the urge to reel them in as well as the urge to propel them forward too quickly.
Within and without, there are shifts in our lives big and small. Almost unnoticeable shifts and the larger, seismic shifts you’d have a hard time ignoring. There are also the seasonal shifts that let us know it’s time to expand, to move our lives outside, to extend our lives beyond the walls of our homes into our yards and gardens. And of course my favorite, the slow shift to autumn, the sun slipping away and signaling the coming of shorter days, a time to make our nests cozy, to turn inward.
Whether you’ve observed these subtle shifts in the energy of your days at home or possibly, the delicate signs that mark the oncoming move towards autumn, I encourage you to take note. Sit in your days, ground yourself in them, notice. Notice the way the sun moves around your house as the day shifts and as the seasons shift. On a late summer evening my bedroom is awash in harsh light, warmed by the afternoon sun. Soon that light will be tenuous, soft and golden. While I welcome autumn in all her glory, I’m busy enjoying the last of summer’s splendor. Early mornings after a rainstorm, cold grass underfoot. The dappled light under the magnolia, my favorite afternoon reading spot. The way the early morning light floods through windows spilling across surfaces.
It is in the noticing that we find our footing and are grounded. In the observing we step back and see the bigger picture: changes in ourselves, in our parenting, in our children as they spread their wings, in the seasons. Allow yourself these moments. Sit still and marvel at the busyness of the last few days, revel in the slowness of your morning and the comfort of finding yourself still in pajamas. Be present for a few moments while you’re out getting your morning paper, does the air feel different to you as well? Have you shared that with your child yet? Children are natural born noticers. They see detail, pattern, texture where we often fail to see.
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets
Noticing slows us down, affords us space to breathe. Slowing down allows us to explore and through exploration, to discover the wonders around us. I encourage you to tune into the changes both within and without. Ride the waves, open your childlike eyes and heart and drink in the details of this wildly fabulous life!
A heartfelt thank you to Amanda for joining us in the Being series this month. You can continue to follow along with Amanda’s adventures in knitting, parenting and homeschooling by checking in on her blog, The Habit of Being.
Rhythm of the Home is an online magazine for families that focuses on creating with children, nature explorations, seasonal celebrations, conscious parenting, and mindfulness in all that we do. To learn more about us, please visit us on Facebook,Pinterest, and Twitter.
We welcome new submissions for our upcoming seasons. To learn more about submitting, please visit our magazine.