Surrender

Some time ago I woke up in a panic, thinking of my age, that I wasn’t married let alone in a committed relationship, I didn’t have kids and would likely never have them biologically. How did this happen?

For years, I had imagined I would be with a particular man who was emotionally unavailable, hoping he would come around. The thought of going on an online dating website seemed exhausting and out of character. And plus, I had so much work to do on myself. Did I really want to bring my baggage into a relationship? Wouldn’t it make sense to bring myself higher, and then allow the universe to do its magic? After all, each day shows me the abundance of love and the definition of true power.

It’s undeniable that for a woman, a motherly instinct kicks in at a certain age. The clock is ticking, but not in the way I once thought it was. The clock ticks and time passes. What you do with it is your choice. The motherly instinct is like water – it travels, it seeks to nurture, it’s compassionate yet strong. It’s unrelenting and relentless. There are hobbies to nurture. Friendships to water. Ideas that need blossoming. The motherly instinct is so strong and vast that it is not limited to children, but can encompass the whole wide world.

In mythology there is the concept of Mother Earth, a loving and nurturing force that sprouts and grows and pulses with life. In the Hindu epic The Ramayana, Sita is considered to be the daughter of Mother Earth; she is a personification of the Earth’s fertility, abundance, and beauty. Her father discovers her as a baby in a bundle, while ploughing the field and brings her home to raise her. No one knows how she came to be there. Some secrets are buried deep into the soil. When Sita faces her greatest trial and is rejected (once again) by the one she loves, she calls upon her Mother to have mercy on her and take her back into her womb. Her decision to leave the Earth (or return to it) – to say enough is enough – is ultimately her choice in the end. And who can blame her.

As I let go of my need to have my life exactly how I thought it might be, while acknowledging the desire for it to be different, I open up to the vast possibilities that the universe has in mind for me. I go where I am needed. And sometimes that motherly instinct shows up in unpredictable and funny ways. Making sure that my colleague at work is not working too hard. Scheduling meetings 5 or 10 minutes after the hour to make sure people have time for breaks. Buying coffees for the staff in my building. Stopping to talk to the homeless and ask them what they’re reading. Connecting people to solve problems and make good things happen. Supporting small businesses. Stopping to hear the street musician play their tune.

The other day I listened to Deepak Chopra’s podcast, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success. In it he talks about how every human being has a unique gift that it is theirs and theirs alone to discover and nurture. Some people are blessed with multiple gifts. Sometimes people catch a glimpse of their gift and yet it forever remains in its infancy. Some people have more time to invest in and develop theirs. Parents and teachers that recognize the gift early may encourage it and connect the child with the right people and resources for it to flourish. As children grow and face the realities of modern-day living, these gifts often get pushed aside. I’m lucky that in my forties, I’m getting the opportunity to grow mine. The creativity inside me and its expression have become my baby. But then I remembered what Elizabeth Gilbert said.

Your creative work is not your baby; if anything, you are its baby.

Elizabeth Gilbert

In that case I may as well surrender and allow this magnanimous force to use me in the best way possible.

I’m currently reading Sex and the Single Woman, an anthology of 24 writers that provide their own take on Helen Gurley Brown’s cult classic, Sex and the Single Girl. In an essay by Josie Pickens written at age forty-four (coincidentally my age!), titled Party of One, she writes about her life as a single woman, and recognizes the patterns that sabotage the ability to truly experience and enjoy the phase of life that you’re currently in.

My bed was always filled with books, and when I wasn’t out frolicking and being free, it was my sanctuary and favourite place to be. I had no idea how marvelous my life was then, though, because even in all my single-woman bliss, I still focused on some made-up future with a man I hadn’t even met yet. Too much of my identity and my ideas around my worthiness were wrapped up in whether I would be chosen as a wife, and I didn’t have any models for what life might look like if I continued to choose myself.

Josie Pickens

Now when I wake up I don’t think of what I don’t have. I think of my gifts that are waiting to be nurtured. I wake up and write. Or dance. Or read. Or make myself a cup of hot tea and watch a movie. In the morning. On a weekday.