(A wobble in your life is often more than just a wobble. It’s a signal of something wonderful being set up to happen and here’s why…)
One of the things I have always really savoured about my days is putting my girls to sleep every night. It’s a time in the day when the surrounding noise goes quiet and life feels more real than ever; more real than me rushing around through the day or tapping on the laptop. It feels hallowed and sacred, and I often wish I could live more of my day in the heart of that feeling.
My older two have generally grown out of this habit now, although every now and again, I will lie by their side and we will talk late into the night about the different significant details of their present lives, as they download their processed and unprocessed thoughts and feelings about them. But I still remember the nights of their younger minds and bodies going to sleep so clearly. Getting under the covers and feeling their little arms around me or their little hands in my hand. Having our random and funny conversations, as their minds would wander to events in the day just gone. I would listen in to their breathing ever so softly, looking so at peace.
I still get to have this beautiful exchange with my youngest, who is five years old, each night. It feels even more sacred because I know these tender minutes shared are not forever now. I know she will need to grow away from this nightly habit eventually too. And so I want these moments etched in my memory bank forever. How I am able to feel them, noting the growing warmth of their bodies and their muscles softening. I can hold their hands and marvel at how big their fingers are getting. They might be flying or running away from dogs or eating sweets in their dreams, but in my eyes, they are at rest. Is there anything nicer in the world to see than someone you love – beyond everything else – at rest? Content? Full up on life? There’s nothing quite like it.
On these special nights, when one of them has laid on my chest, and I am running my fingers softly through their hair, I always know they are falling asleep because of the little quivers they make without any realisation of them. One night, years ago, it got me thinking. Before deep rest – that unassuming peace that we look for everywhere in life – makes home in our hearts, there often comes a shaking first, like when my girls fall into a deep and nourishing sleep. There is always a tremor, a wobble, a falling apart before we come to that peace we so long for. The one that is unconditional. The one from within that the world can’t get to. The canvas that we can explore our dreams from. We can only access it through a shakeup. A shakeup of emotions, a shakeup of circumstances. A shakeup in both. I’ve had my fair share and I can relate to this truth so very much.
As my girls would shake every now and again in my arms, I realised that we look at the concept of shaking, wobbling and stumbling as something to be embarrassed of because it looks like we’re losing control. But there is nothing wrong with it at all. What if all the shaking, wobbling and stumbling in our lives is just a sign of us giving up control, and actual proof of us truly letting go – even as we fight it? And through trusting the process, we can therefore live in a deeper, more instinctive consciousness? What is this pressure to always keep it together? To always get things right? To make life pretty? We need the wobbles and the shakeups in our lives to remind us that these pressures have nothing to do with feeling truly alive and being in soulful touch with ourselves.
I actually feel so much better in general when I am not trying to keep it together; when I embrace my stumbles so much I make new dances out of them. And when they really hurt, there is nothing more cathartic than crying it out, screaming it out, and learning why I stumbled in such a way so that I can understand myself better, rather than losing out on the opportunity to experience some emotional integration by endlessly wishing that I was just a “better” person. We sell ourselves short and we miss out on life-affirming epiphanies by just thinking that the wobbles in our lives happen because we need to just simply be “better” people. It’s all so much more interesting than that.
I used to train women in fitness throughout the week, a few years ago, and whenever we would hold certain postures, there was always a lot of wobbling as they would work hard to find their balance, and I would always applaud them. I would remind them the shaking is a sign of their core working and expanding. It’s a sign that their bodies were growing. That there was no need to be embarrassed. They would often laugh out loud in relief. A kind of “phew, that’s good to know!” I think we all need that kind of relief, where we realise our wobbles aren’t things to be so hard on ourselves about.
And so, lovely one, I want to say the same to you. In all the areas that you are shaking in your life at the moment, processing tremors here and there, why not try looking at it as a sign that you are giving up control and slowly letting go for bigger and better things? Why can’t it be a sign that your deeper faith is at work; a certain kind of unconscious trust emerging slowly into your awareness? Why can’t it be what precedes the peace and rest that is on its way to restore your life and give you all that you need? Next time you wobble, get excited. Get ready. Next time you feel a tremor, look out for the blessing it’s making way for. Next time you shake, remember the last time someone fell asleep on you and shook a little bit here and there in order to fall into a deep rest deserving of their souls. The wobble is a sign of life, and rather than being gripped with fear of where the wobble might take you, resist it less and let it be a friend.
Deep down, I believe most of these things are. It’s our clinging to things that gets in the way of our peace and soulful rest, and our inability to note these blessings in disguise.
Have mercy on your wobbles and the days you stumble the most. Make a dance out of your shaking, and when you feel a faltering, hold your head up high with expectant eyes. These shakeups are part of a bigger growth happening in your life. Yes, they are a sign. They are a sign you are becoming more and more alive or, in the case of my sleeping children (who are growing up way too quickly), you are actually on your way to deep inner rest and peace.
