A thousand times, I'd choose you

This body, this life, this moment--a carousel of delight and pain and magic.

Oct 01, 2025

Hi! If you’re new to Heartbeats, welcome. I’m Mariah, and I write about the messy, beautiful intersection of caregiving and creativity. Today’s letter is about landing in the body and remembering it’s all magic. Heartbeats is a reader-supported community. Thank you for being here! 💗

Hello.

The gentleness of this morning’s birdsong. The taste of grapefruit juice on my tongue. The absence of little one’s persistent cough, ringing in my ears, for now.

A few moments of peace and stillness to sit with the ache in my shoulders, the tired, dry feeling of my eyes, the beat of my heart with gratitude, through it all.

I keep trying to change things—the lean of the tomato vines in my garden, a tangle of gravity and soft, fleshy fruit. The way I part my hair, sometimes down the middle (because apparently a side-part is a dead giveaway for my age), and then usually back again, because why am I trying to hide my age, anyway?

I prod and fix, making phone calls and sending emails, rearranging my to-do list, letting things fall away with a lot more fight than I’d like to admit, and only when the external factors are too far out of reach–the asthma not yet controlled, the editor presumably busy with another project.

And so I fall back into the body, or I’m learning.

And I find the landing a lot softer than I imagined. The permission immediately waiting, whispering. You are always enough. Time is on your side. Be here, now.

A thousand times I will need these reminders, through a carousel of lives. Spinning, spinning, forgetting to surrender to the gravity, yes, but also the delight. The glee of this orbit, a continuous chance to choose this. Whatever is happening in this breath, right now.

Have you ever seen a more perfect shade of pink?

In spite of the sick days with no childcare or progress on the novel. In spite of the tangent ideas and projects that may or may not become. In spite of the chronic second-guessing the mind (oh, such a precious part of being human) refuses to relinquish.

Our best laid plans fail. Vacations get cancelled. The chess pieces of life constantly shift and yet we forget it is just a game. A simple thing, really. To be moved along toward the sea. To be so much less fixed than we perceive ourselves to be.

As I was listening to a podcast on the way home from pick up the other day, Noah picked out a word he recognized. “Magic!” He shouted with delight from the car seat.

“Yes,” I smiled. “What does magic mean to you, buddy?”

“Um, the stars!” He replied with certainty.