I’ve been inspired by a new book I’ve added to my collection recently.

I don’t even know how I stumbled upon this book. I’m a mood reader by nature and the mood I’m currently in is a beautifully intertwined one. I went down a rabbit hole of recommended titles through parenting, nature, nurturing your spiritual self, and connecting with the slow life. And within that hole emerged Little Stories of Your Life by Laura Pashby.

The book encourages sharing your story, however small or insignificant that story may be. And so, here I am: writing this blog post. Sharing photos of my life. A space for thoughts – seemingly mundane – as my little boy takes his daily nap.

Because, why not? Why not scribble away the moods, feelings, emotions, experiences, and inner ramblings that I believe will only capture the attention of me? If this online space becomes an open journal, and if that space touches even one heart, I view that as success.

So, again: here I am.

I believe that when I write, I am reclaiming a piece of my identity that not only existed prior to motherhood but expanded tenfold following pregnancy and the birth of my son. By making conscious time to sit and release what is normally pent up within me and tucked away due to overwhelm and the ever-growing need to decompress with mindless activity at the end of the day, I am making time for my Spirit. This is how it speaks, and it deserves a voice. I know that, and yet seem to find it so difficult to allow it to boom the way it deserves. I know it deserves the space to boom, echo, and discharge. So why do I treat it as exactly that: a treat? Why do I feel undeserving of the allotted time to feel this minute sense of liberation? Why do I put the world first and myself – and my space – second?

I know why: because I am a mother. And this is a habit that mothers fall into. A habit that is difficult to break when we are tired and just want to get things done, when we are overstimulated and want to rid ourselves of the tasks that need our attention, when we are mentally drained and see our needs as work.

I used to write poetry, too. To me, poetry is not bound by rules and regulations. It, too, is a deep spiritual release, a creative exploration of human emotions morphed into tangible words that are maybe – just maybe – understood by others. Motherhood is a living poetry, so why don’t I do more of it? I am going to try:

Speaking of poetry: my son is in a separation anxiety phase. The word, “mama,” echoes around the house if I am even just a little out-of-sight. It is poetry. To be so trusted and to know this small human feels so secure with me is a blessing, a gift. It moves me more than any song, than any piece of art or literature, than any film, than any splendid experience of nature, than any feeling I’ve ever known. It is poetry.

As I sit here and write, I can feel the expansion of my third eye. It is vibrating with the same frequency and intensity as when I sit down and do a session for clients. To me, this is proof of the importance of this practice. To me, this emphasizes the magnitude of power and potential of this slow space I make for me. It also strengthens, within me, a resolve to continue it beyond just this post. The experience is as powerful as a meditation. Writing is my meditation. Why have I not allowed myself these moments until now? The profound impact of this on my spiritual and physical self is as wonderful as when I give myself the time to sit with a good book.

I hope to raise a reader. And part of that requires a love of language and writing. If my son sees me read, he will read. If my son sees his mother – an author – write, he will write. I should write. This is part of my calling. And, inspired by Little Stories of Your Life, I know there’s no excuse.

There is space for me and my little stories in this world. Why should I hesitate any longer?

I see my son stir on the monitor and it hasn’t even been thirty minutes. Did I just waste the naptime on me? No – I feel I am better because of this exercise. I can feel it in my entire body; my spirit is revitalized. It was as though I had a one hour meditation session in the depths of the rainforest. I am absorbing Source through my fingers within the droplets of this time.

I am grateful.

xx Claudia of @awakenedlittlesouls