Domestic Goddess or CEO?

A little more matriarchy is what the world needs, and I know it.
                                              — Dorothy Thompson

My dearest husband, upon feeling better (from pneumonia this winter) and getting back in his groove, stated that he wanted a “flow” to the house.  He wanted aCompass_north_wooden_266943_tn.jpg system.  My bursts of energy come and go with the moon, understandably, and I, too, get the feeling that we’re going to have to take an active role in channeling the energy in and around our home and affairs.  Great.  We have a heading.  We know what we want, but how to get there?

I’m sure we’re not the only ones who want to save money but not sacrifice quality.  We want to eat well but not blow the budget.  We want to practice right livelihood, but we want to get out of debt.  We want to trust the Universe to provide, and we want to know what’s going to happen when, where and now.  Like nearly everyone else I know, we want it all.  Pass the cake.

As the maternal head of household, largely in charge of maintaining course, what I want to know is:  do I follow the stars, trust my instincts and ride the waves, or do I chart the course, follow advice and charge ahead?  Am I a goddess or a chief officer?  Is my home my dominion or my business?

I believe the delightfully frustrating answer is yes.  Both.  I am living the new age now, and I have made my life my business.  The truth that pains us is that we want to draw these definitive lines, build these boxes around what we claim to understand.  Do we really want to set ourselves up for disappointment?  I admit, I want to get it right.  I want to do what’s best for me, for my family.  I want the “rules” so as to make it easy, clear-cut and simple to follow.  I want to succeed.  However, I’ve got to put my over-achiever ego in the backseat and let the goddess take the helm.  Everything these days points to going with the flow.  I’ll know when it’s time to chart a plan of action.

Maybe I should call myself a CDEG (chief domestic executive goddess).  If my kids start singing their ABC’s, at least I’ll know they’re learning something, and maybe it will point out for me the absurdity of titles anyway.  In the end, I’ll still be a MOM, no matter which course we take or what the ledger says. 

We’re still sailing now.  Let the wind blow.

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