You Can’t Push and Receive at the Same Time
I, like so many other mums, had a plan for today.
Batch record.
Film multiple videos.
Work out.
Be productive.
Tick things off.
Do all the “shoulds.”
Instead, I had a sick child.
And what turned out to be a beautiful gift, I found myself in a sunny field for two hours, in the winter light, watching her nursery music session.
When the Plan Falls Apart
No batching.
No productivity.
No content plan.
Just grass.
Music.
Sunshine.
Presence.
And somewhere in those hours, something softened.
You Can’t Push and Receive at the Same Time
We talk a lot about moving with ease.
But if I’m truly honest, I still catch myself trying to control the rhythm of my days.
Trying to make things happen.
Trying to stay on schedule.
Trying to “use the time well.”
Even when life is clearly offering something else.
Today reminded me:
You can’t push and receive at the same time.
What Moving With Ease Actually Means
Moving with ease doesn’t mean doing nothing.
It doesn’t mean lowering your standards.
It doesn’t mean lacking ambition.
It means not overriding reality.
It means noticing when the day has its own plan.
It means allowing what’s here to shape you.
If I had forced the plan today, I would have missed:
The way she danced without self-consciousness.
The way the light fell across the field.
The quiet pride in simply being there for her.
There was nothing strategic about it.
And yet it felt deeply aligned.
Interruption as Invitation
As mothers, we are so used to being in “go mode.”
Optimising.
Organising.
Planning three steps ahead.
We tell ourselves that surrender is passive.
But what if surrender is receptive?
What if ease is not about doing less,
but about resisting less?
Sometimes the interruption is the invitation.
Sometimes the delay is the direction.
Sometimes the thing you didn’t plan
is the exact thing you needed.
A Practice of Trust
This month I’m exploring what it means to move with ease.
Not as a productivity hack.
Not as another thing to master.
But as a practice of trust.
Trusting that we don’t always know the plan.
Trusting that presence is not a waste.
Trusting that softness doesn’t make us fall behind.
If today didn’t look like you expected…
Maybe nothing has gone wrong.
Maybe something else is being offered.
And maybe the real work
is letting yourself receive it.
If this resonates,
if you’re tired of pushing and quietly craving a softer rhythm,
I created something gentle for you.
It’s called A Place to Land.
Three short, 10-minute practices delivered over three days.
Not to fix you.
Not to optimise you.
Just to help you pause and reconnect with yourself.
You can begin whenever you’re ready.