Being a mom can be hard. If only our children could understand that. If only we could have understood it about our own moms when we were growing up. Likely, many of us had moments, or entire childhoods, when we needed things from them they just couldn’t provide. And as little people looking for cause and effect, it seemed logical to get mad at mom, to blame her. But as we get older, we start to see that mom was part of a system, and if she acted harshly, or distant, or caused us pain at times, it was because she herself was depleted. At least this is true for me when I’m not acting as the mom I want to be! I really just need a break and more support.
Now I should say, this role of “mom” doesn’t always fall to the biological mother. I know this first hand, having raised a child whose biological mom had passed on. And sometimes it’s dad or grandma or another guardian.
But there is a specific role this person plays in family life. And by its very nature, this role’s function is hard to describe, its impact is nearly impossible to measure, and thus its work is often unnoticed and undervalued.
Sean and I had a moment last night when we were tying to come up with a term for this role and then realized, duh, people have had a perfect metaphor for it since time immemorial:
The garden.
Mother Earth. How was this not something we’d thought of as a metaphor within our family before?!
Nature of course has many lessons to teach us. The earth overflows with abundance for all – growing everything we need to breathe clean air and nourish our bodies. Springing forth fresh, cleansing water. Even literally grounding us by helping to regulate our internal systems (awesome overview of studies here). And with our muck? Earth welcomes it, transforming it into rich soil. Filtering toxins in water through patient layers of sediment, bringing it bubbling back to the surface, purified. The powers of this Mother Earth are hard to fathom.
But things change when we don’t care for her. When we take these gifts for granted without reverence, and we consume without replenishing, the consequences are dire. A garden has needs, and when they are met fully, everyone benefits. All is well.
All is not well with our earth at present, of course. We are consuming without replenishing. All is not well for our mothers either, for all of those called to be this garden role in our families.
Our earth has been overproducing and undernourished, and if it’s anything like me, what she needs most right now is rest. With a good long rest, the soil knows what to do. She has an almost magical ability to recalibrate when simply left alone.
She will tell you when she’s ready. With little sprouts at first, little bits of green popping up. But wait. That’s just Imbolc. More work is to be done, all happening below the surface. All a mystery to the gardeners. She needs more sun to warm herself deeply. She needs more rain to soothe and replenish the dried up places inside. And she needs time, quiet, and space. Then finally, at the perfect time, spring will burst forth again.
So, how do we get this rest and rejuvenation as mothers?
How do we GIVE this to mothers?
After all, a community without a thriving garden is suffering itself. A suffering community cannot care for its garden. How do we transmute the cycle?
To be perfectly honest, this very question of how to rebalance the family ecosystem so that everyone can be nourished, healthy, happy, and vibrant again, is the heart of Cloud Dojo. It’s exactly what I’ve been on a quest to answer in my entire adult life, and here, I’m sharing all I’ve found and all I’m still discovering along the way. And the dream is that it will be a place for you to share too.
In this week’s YouTube video, I’m outlining a simple set of hacks I’ve found to get more rest when alone with the kids, which is pretty often!
Of course, something Sean and I are working on is bringing healthy community around our family so that we are not most often solo care-taking. As a culture, I sure hope this is the direction we’re heading. In my opinion, when we can do this, when we can create – or rather recreate – healthy, functioning communities, where we help each other out in symbiosis, then our world will begin to recalibrate and come back into balance itself.
What do you think? Does the garden metaphor resonate for you as your role in the family? Or do you see it differently? And if you have ideas for how to give caretakers more rest and time to rejuvenate, I would love to hear them! Please leave a comment below and share your thoughts!