I light some candles.

Lay out a cushion, notebook and pen.

I stir the cacao and pour it into a mug.

I enter the space.

Sit.

Close my eyes.

Exhale. Inhale.

The wind howls outside the window. I hear the sounds of family life humming beyond the door.

I settle myself and lean into a few moments of solitude.

***

The day has been challenging – one vomiting child, another left his new coat on the school bus, a small thing in the grand scheme of it all, but still… and then a phone-call from the rugby coach to say another needs a visit to A+E… suspected torn ligaments and fracture…

Motherhood is messy and demanding. So much of our own wants, needs and desires often set aside as we care for and nurture our families. But we can come back home to ourselves. Carve out time to fill our own hearts once more when weariness sets in; even if only for a few moments, even if the space is still jam-packed with boxes from a recent house move and only a small patch of floor is available. It doesn’t have to be perfect… nothing is. Beauty found in the chaos of it all.

These days between Autumn Equinox and Samhain can feel like an in-between land. Like arriving in a wilderness that is all at once familiar and strange and unknown. With each spin around the sun, I recognise more deeply that this time is for quietening the mind, resisting the urge to continually be doing. It is in this liminal space I learn that pushing is futile, that in transition, I simply need to breathe. These days are a threshold, the tipping over into winter will soon come, when we will burrow down deeper, to rest, recover and allow dreams to gestate.

“Hope begins in the dark.” – Anne Lamott

The small altar I have created is for me; my inner me, the Wild Woman within. It is for her, my essential nature, the one who guides and comforts continually. Sometimes it can be hard to hear your own thoughts in the whirlwind of daily life, and so, I choose to intentionally make space to meet with myself.

My head is spinning if truth be told. I have so many questions for her. I need answers. Need them urgently. I blurt them out. Seeking answers, wisdom and direction. But nothing comes. The wind outside whistles. I stare into the candle flames, trying to melt myself into communion with the wild woman who resides within. To push her for guidance. But still nothing comes. Always trying too hard. A little frustrated, I take a sip of cacao, focus on my breath, reminding myself of its constancy day in and day out. That I am okay.

And then, just when I let go, the quiet voice speaks…

“I just want to spend time with you.”

I feel this so deeply in my bones. The voice of the Mother. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks.

She doesn’t want anything from me. Places no demands on me. Doesn’t show me my next step, what I need to do or tick off next. She is happy in my presence. Wants my company. I taste the words on my tongue, swirl them around, seeing how they feel. Have I ever simply enjoyed my own company? Like really taken joy in it? It’s true that I am often annoyed and frustrated with myself for not being able to ‘do it all’. But this is something new. I have enjoyed many times of solitude, walking in the mountains and creating and so on, but this feels like an awakening moment. Something beyond mere solitude and time-out from the noise.

This is a call to pleasure in my own being.

It is a coming home to her.