In my life, no two days are exactly alike. Usually I can arise when I like and take on the day in the manner that suits me. That, however, is surely not the same as saying there is no rhythm to my fine life. I thrive on rhythm. I surely know children do and I think most adults crave it in some fashion also.
The farm has an ebb and flow that needs tending to — every week we plant trays of seeds, every two weeks we plant baby starts out in the field, every Tuesday we harvest for our community, every Wednesday we hoe and weed all the gardens.
Each morning I make the rounds of the farm, feeding the cats, ducks, chickens and rabbits. It is a slow and sweet awakening to the rhythm of the day.
The coffee ritual has its own cherished cadence in my mornings. The breathing in before the breathing out the bustle the often-busy day has for me. Evenings always have some kind of sunset pause for me, another breathing in. Sundays have a totally different feel and non-structure, but surely would not be Sunday without the New York Times! So even the day with the least shape has a rhythm.
When my children were small, I saw that the rhythm I created was comforting for them. We had the most harmonious times when that was respected. I think that a certain amount of this same pulse and flow still sings to my soul and balances my being.