Be still, my heart.
Be still.
Stillness is uncomfortable. 2020 has been an exercise in stillness and the realization that it can be easier to keep moving than it is to stop. Because stopping means processing. Stopping means being. Stopping means understanding what is and is not and what could be and can’t be and was and never will be.
Be still.
Stillness requires grounding. It asks us to be present in the now. It asks us to put down our phones. It asks us to put away our work. It asks us to forget our to-do list. It asks us to let go of the elsewhere and to be here. Now. In this moment. And if stillness requires grounding, it also requires roots – but not first without the uprooting of a life in constant motion.
Be still.
Stillness happens in deep breaths. It happens it letting go. It happens in giving in. It happens when we let it happen. But, first, we have to allow it. It’s amazing how hard that can be and how much easier it is to keep burning ourselves down than it is to give ourselves the air needed to keep the fire within us burning.
Be still.
Stillness might be calm and quiet. But it is also disruptive in today’s world where we tend to cling to chaos. Stillness might be tranquility and immobility. But it’s also so hard to come by when we’ve grown accustomed to the next thing, the next thing, the next thing. Stillness requires effort to pull ourselves back and reflect when we’ve been plowing past reality and the emotions that come with it.
Be still.
Stillness is what brings relief to the drudgery. Because let’s be honest: motherhood is filled with drudgery. Diapers, bottle washing, endless laundry, uneaten meals made, snacks – so many snacks, multi-part bedtime routines, carpool lines, drop-offs and clean-ups, and the list goes on. But stillness comes when the last onesie is put away, the sink is empty, silence and sound machines hush through the monitor, and we take a deep sigh, releasing the tension built from another day of momming.
Be still.
Stillness is what makes magic out of motherhood. Consider the moments that have stuck with you and made the messiness of motherhood worthwhile. The middle of the night feedings when heavy eyes are lifted by a little smile and satisfied belly. The first time your child reaches for your hand and brings you down to earth, anchoring you in an instant memory. The sound of first steps padding across the floor in a just few seconds, that last forever. An unexpected cuddle or hug to pull you out of your head and into your heart. Milestones and memories and moments are found in stillness.
Be still, my heart.
My heart.
Be still.
