The mother in me knows that I am perfectly imperfect. She knows that nothing in the past left me any less sacred, beloved, and precious than I was on the day I was born. She knows that nothing I’ve chosen — even in my darkest hour — could cast out the divine that dances deep within me. Even when it feels as if I’m coming undone, I will always be woven tightly into the fabric of the universe. And while a great many things cannot be rewound, she whispers into the warmth of an early morning sun, “Unconditional love is strong enough to heal the broken.”
The mother in me knows that my life has a purpose. She knows that for us to live together peacefully and successfully on this planet, a great many things must be done. She knows that I was crafted — specifically and intentionally — to be a part of that perfection. My nature, talents, and abilities are my currency. The missteps, miscalculations, and mistakes have strengthened me in ways I have only begun to understand. She knows that there are no accidents, and that I am not an accident.
The mother in me knows that my life is a journey and my dreams are my guide. She knows that my truth is written on my bones, and that all of my answers swim in the endless spring of my own soul. When I don’t know which way to turn, she urges me to look within, and when the truth appears painfully unlikely, she smiles and nods to reassure me. Living the dream is not a luxury; it is the call into being that pulls my every breath into this body. She knows that living my dream is the only way to make me make sense.
The mother in me knows that my job here is to cultivate the garden of my own life. She knows that the cycles, the evolution through life and death, and life once more, is entirely magical. She knows about clearing space for what I long for, creating conditions that nurture new life, and being patient while the rest unfolds. She knows it is my job to protect the garden, with awareness and boundaries, from danger and disaster… both natural and otherwise. And when harm is done in the garden of my life, she holds me while I release what was lost, grieve what could have been, and find the seeds of truth to take with me as I begin again.
The mother in me knows that a human life is rarely uninterrupted. She knows that heartbroken people make decisions and take actions that break the hearts of others. She knows that sometimes we get hurt or distracted, maybe even lost in the heartache but that we don’t have to be gone for good. And while she knows that once lost, it takes a special kind of journey to recover, she knows I am worth whatever it takes to travel back home to me.
The mother in me knows that in order to cultivate the most beautiful, joyful, abundant life, I must seek to understand this human that I am being. She knows that the only thing more important than discovering myself is making peace with what I find. It matters not which height or weight I am, what color my hair or skin, how long I’ve been alive, or in what category my intelligence falls. It matters not what I eat, to what music I prefer to listen, or what makes me smile. It matters not which spiritual path I’ve taken, or how many I’ve explored, nor does it matter what I create when I am creating. It matters not if my soul’s mate has these parts or those. What matters is that I discover my truths, that I accept them, and that I love myself enough to live in alignment with who I am. She knows that only by committing to a life of integrity will I ever truly be free.