It always takes me by surprise when, post-Lammas, I find myself swamped beneath a wave of deconstruction and transformation. I forget during the heady growth of the spring/summer months that all will not stay the same. I even manage to convince myself, in my darker moments, that there is no hope of change, ever ; surely I am destined to live a life of mundanity.
I forget that mundanity is sacred. That every mundane moment is a step towards transformation and when we reach the end of the year, if we’ve managed to take enough steps, we will -whether we intend to or not- find ourselves somewhere new.
This year more than any other I find myself in foreign lands with a harvest I could never have predicted.
I am a mother. Mother to a son who can stand and babble and laugh and blow spectacular raspberries. I have never felt more alive than when we laugh together. I have never hurt as much as when he cries. I have never wanted to do less, more than I do right now. I know that this is exactly right.
Creating our little miracle has drained me of energy, time and resources in a way I could never imagine. I do not feel deprived and I would give him more if I had it, but he has made me profoundly aware of my limitations as a human being.
None of this is a bad thing.
It is in fact a perfect thing, a miraculous thing, a truth I have been waiting to encounter my whole life: It is right to rest. To do nothing. To linger. It is a right – not a privilege – to live within our own truth, our own boundaries, our unique wants and needs. All the wild wonderings that have swirled in my gut my whole life, those edges that have jarred so spectacularly with the way our modern world is structured, have begun settling into place and I see myself – through his eyes – in my wholeness. I make sense now. And so too do so many choices I have made in the past that once seemed at odds with what I thought was reality. I realise now they were made by and for the whole person, who was waiting to be realised through the acceptance of her role as mother.
I knew that having a child would be important… I never expected the one to benefit most would be my self.
This isn’t me declaring my commitment to the mummy cause by changing this blog to yet another mama diary (there’s enough awesome ones out there already, like here, here and here). But you are likely to see more mama related writing if you stick around.
This is however a declaration of change. Of the whole blog/brand/being that Walk the Wheel has been until now. This past year has sown the seeds of this transformation; Samhain marks the time of both its ending and beginning.
The time is right, the Wheel has turned and my cauldron is brimming with desire, with determination and with inspiration.
So I will to sink into the dark and quiet of the year, to embrace these stirrings of possibility in all their uncertainty, trusting that something new and better will be born of them in Spring.
There will be a considered and intentional silence both here and on the mailing list and on the Facebook group over the Winter season. I am trusting the Wheel to turn without me.
I look forward to meeting friends old and new when I return. Look out for a face that is similar but not the same. For I am already a new woman, emboldened by my wholeness… Who knows what I will be when I am rested and revitalised, ready to birth a brand new year?