Hi, welcome in, and thank you for being here. A note for you.
Simplify: Clear the Way to Your Innate Wisdom is now open to all.
Take a look at what you’re prioritizing, what’s working, what’s evolving, and what’s needed in this season. To join me, click here for your Guidebook, a co-creative step towards a more peaceful, purposeful way of being. Then I’ll send your link to connect.
My Bird,
For the past few months, your fleeting hugs and longer conversations are holding me up. For the past few days, allowing myself to feel such surprising upwellings of grief, trying not to make a big deal of it, seeing how we humans shrink our feelings.
We don’t want to be a burden. We don’t want to make a mess.
Now I realized there’s no mess to speak of, only confounding, boundless love. And my grief is a reliable indicator of the existence of this love as we close an epic chapter, seventeen years and counting. A new beginning is emerging.
After a long hike, you walk in, I’m folding evening laundry on my bed after a weekend of study and filming. You’re asking for tape, you’re packing. We’ve officially entered our final two weeks together; you need to seal the boxes. It dawns on me that they’re your boxes.
This short piece isn’t about an empty nest—it’s transmitting a mama bird’s proud heart of thankfulness, launching her baby into the world.
Photo by Pete Longworth, 2014.
Somehow you linger after the packing tape request, laying down on the mini trampoline in our room, legs dangling off the edge. You pop up into a shoulderstand, then relax. I kneel down next to you and lay a hand on your belly, then my head, tears on my cheeks. James, bless him, sighs in recognition, takes his place on your other side, lays his hand too. We’re all crying.
A blessing emerges, James and I taking turns.
We’ve all done our best, such a good job we all did.
Thank you for being such a reliable, kind human.
Thank you for treating us with such respect and care.
Thank you for asking me for what you needed so clearly at every step.
A blessing of gratitude. We clearly relay our trust in you, in your mind, your heart, your choices. You thank us too.
And thank you for playing piano serenades, for learning how to spin records,
for making fun of my food, for reminding me to dance. Thank you for asking me to hold up your feet and giving me the chance to adjust your postures during brief morning yoga practices, an unasked-for pinnacle.
You leave our room, I’m following like a puppy, making idle conversation. You let me. We get to your room, I ask (the third time), do you need any help. You say no, thank you, patiently, again. I stand still.
You come closer, my head now reaches the height of your chest, so tall. Then you fall into me, letting go into my support the way you would if you were half your size and I could actually hold you up. I can’t do that anymore, but I think I’m doing it now. Time stops.
Your chest silently heaves, I smell you, I whimper, wordlessly, a depth of living grief I’ve never felt before. I’m disappearing. All that’s left of me here is an abundance of love, an ordinary mother in an extraordinary moment of silent recognition.
In what realm of your world are you feeling pain that points to the undeniable presence of love?
Are you allowing yourself to feel the grief?
What shape is it taking in this season?
If you’re enjoying these writings, Softening Time, my first collection of poetry, is currently on sale here.
And just in case you’re a parent or know a parent who’d resonate, my Perceptive Parenting course offers effective, efficient, real-talk parenting wisdom, quietly serving parents all over the world. This podcast-style audio course invites your listening wherever you are. I began writing it when my son was seven years old—the content spans the range of ages from toddlerhood to now. From a student of the course:
"This course is cracking me wide open and working on me; I'm already on my second listen. The shifts that have happened in our home make me cry to even think about them. Your course is addressing every stage, with deep wisdom for my 11 and 13 year old for the years to come. I'm soaking it in, since you're a few years ahead of us.
As a parent educator, I can sometimes get so confused trying to improve my parenting skills. These teachings have grounded me, showing me blind spots I've been needing to look at for so long. I'm now responding in a way that I always prayed about and hoped for but, for some reason, could never quite get under the reactivity. I'm asking for feedback at bedtime, pointing out the moments where my son is only thinking about his perspective and inviting him to look at his sister's (or my) perspective to invite a solution for the big picture.
I'm now making amends for imposing unnecessary punishment like taking screens away when I know it never really works to change my kids. I calmly intervene when the siblings get physical with one another. Instead of shouting and making threats, your teachings have shown me a different way. The other day I said, "Guys, you both know there is no punishment that will fix this between you. It has to come from within you. I love you two, you are best friends; you are the only two that will be able to work this out and start handling your conflict differently."
And the best part: I'm minding my own damn business more. Looking back, I can see without judgement how much nagging I was doing (I say this with total compassion), and am now focusing more on myself and allowing them to develop their innate emotional intelligence."
- J, Nashville
Welcome to Softening Time. Today’s post is open to all subscribers, both free and paid. If you choose a paid subscription, you’ll have access to the entire Softening Time archives and be invited to comment on all posts (I love responding personally).
All paid subscriptions are donated to causes benefiting women and children.
If you have financial restriction, please reply to this email—scholarship subscriptions are available, so don’t hesitate to ask.
Paid subscribers, save the date: You’re invited to attend our next virtual writing workshop on Wednesday September 4th, 12pm Eastern. You’ll receive our link prior to the gathering.
This is really beautiful. I’m “holding you in the light” as the Quakers say.
Another moving essay, thank you. I hope your remaining weeks are beautiful and you take the space for grief and every emotion. ⭐️