The Magical Power of Rhythm

Whenever I’m challenged in some area—sleep, mood, work, creativity, focus, relationships—I find it helpful to look at rhythm. Before I had children, I liked to think of myself as a “free spirit,” easygoing, unbound. Until panic would hit. I got through college and my early work life with all-nighters, fits and starts. But once I had a baby and a toddler, it became clear to me that there can be shackles in ‘freedom.” It’s like that line from the song Desperado, “Freedom? Ah, Freedom. That’s just some people talking…”

Establishing regularity was a struggle for me. A flexible work schedule had allowed me to lead an arrhythmic life with (seeming) impunity. With my first child, I could eek by with this approach for a time, but once the second came along we craved more predictability, balance and flow. One child woke up at dawn and went to sleep early; the other woke late morning and went to bed hours later than his baby brother. They had entirely different nap schedules (they had created their own little rhythms for themselves in response to my lack of direction), which meant that I never had a break. My husband traveled frequently yet unpredictably for his work, had a stressful job, and was in graduate school. I was still freelancing, sleeplessly—without a clear plan of when to fit it in. The situation was unsustainable, so I began to study rhythm.

Rhythm is a clear indication that life is at play. Think of ocean tides and sunrises and sunsets—of seeds, shoots, buds and blossoms. Leaves fall from the trees every ‘fall’ and the moon waxes and wanes each month. Our bodies run on heartbeats, blood circulation, sleep cycles and a healthy interplay of rest and activity, food and digestion. Musical rhythms can move us to get up and dance or lull us into a daydream, and the rhythms of language can captivate with a story, poem or joke well told. People, animals, plants, mountains and creative pursuits follow rhythmic patterns: they begin in minute form, poke through a barrier of some kind, rise up to a crescendo and curl back down to rest. Eventually they transform into something entirely different.

The arrival of a newborn is wondrous! She enters as a huge spirit who cannot even fit into such a tiny, partially formed, awkward body that she isn’t quite sure how to operate yet. Many newborns are not terribly happy about this constricting circumstance. And they can’t know that the tired faces around them belong to other beings who need rest at 2:00 and 4:00 a.m. It’s all-consuming and exhausting—and lovely and precious and wonderful, too, which is how we get through it. We are rightly out of time for a while with the newborn.

So much of early childhood is about moving from this initial phase into a more organized state. Giving babies clear information about what to expect in their little daily lives builds trust and aids bonding, health and growth. First rhythms begin to present themselves—largely out of the child. A parent more tuned into these patterns than I was will work in sync with the baby’s emerging rhythms from the start. A less aware parent may actively if unwittingly interfere with this process, until life wakes her up. This makes me think of something profound my older boy said at age 10 after I took him to a play put on by our local high school that turned out to be disconcertingly complex. I felt it must have been far above his head, since I was baffled! I asked, “Do you have any idea what that play was about?” He said, “Well, the son was the worst person in the play, but even he was able to be redeemed in the end, so that means there’s hope for us all.” Suddenly it all made sense. That phrase, “there’s hope for us all,” has resounded for me ever since and lifts me when I need some lifting. In terms of parenting, my redemption was striving to work with, rather than against, the fundamental life principle of rhythm. ‘Striving’ is the key word, not ‘mastering.’

The first rhythms are basic: Sleep, wake, eat, poop, diaper, bathe, observe, interact, play, sleep… When these inevitable daily events begin to organize themselves rhythmically, or are gently guided into a more predictable rhythm, the child can let down his guard and drop a need to be vigilant about every little change. The trust that develops supports confidence and a willingness to reach out, explore and connect with the people and world around him.

Free spirit or not, I began to tune in more carefully and work with these principles. I tried to notice what was going on, how it fit together, and whether I was unknowingly undermining any natural rhythms. I needed to have a better sense of what to expect in a day, too, so that I could drop my own guard and truly rest when I had the chance. Little rituals pulled us along and boosted our moods—a song here, a snack there, a story right around then. I began creating more regularity around the edges of the day, which had the effect of coordinating our midday resting times. We began to transition more gracefully from playtime to clean up, inside to outside, time together to time apart, a time to be awake and a time to sleep. And when our rhythms began to crumble, I could see how veering too far from its basic flow and forgetting to use certain seemingly inconsequential transition markers were involved. Even if the day, or my mood or theirs, spiraled away unhappily sometimes, I now had a few anchors in my back pocket I could reach for. It could be something as simple as lighting a candle at dinner time and saying thank you for the meal. We could strike a match, breathe and feel, “We’re here now. Let’s begin again.” Sometimes people wondered if we lit candles to be ‘holy’ or ‘fancy.’ No, it was a lifeline.

A “good rhythm” makes sense and feels right. If it becomes rigid, it ceases to be rhythmic. True rhythms support the actual circumstances and people they’re meant to serve. A rigid, never-changing schedule is as arrhythmic as chaos. Children evolve at a rapid pace and adults are often several beats behind. Seasons change and demand different rhythms. Disharmony is a chance to notice and assess what’s needed now. It’s a call to re-attune and consider options.

At first it can be challenging to carry a new rhythm. But then there’s a magical tipping point, and the rhythm carries you. After the effort of determining and working with what happens when and why, you will be rewarded with a sense of readiness, confidence and flow. Little transitional songs practically sing themselves, simple rituals you made up unfold effortlessly. The children absorb the signposts and move more joyfully—or matter-of-factly as the case may be—into the next phase of the day or week or season. Everyone can feel less guarded.

When there’s a sticking point or recurring problem, it’s time to examine the rhythm—the events of the day and their order, timing and relationship to each other. This can take the sting out of the difficulty and create a little distance that makes it easier to notice glitches and experiment with adjustments. It can help make you feel curious and resourceful, rather than distressed.

And when you encounter yet another obstacle—as you surely will—accept that being in and out of rhythm is in itself part of the natural rhythm of life. Otherwise we would be like metronomes, or reruns—how would we evolve? Welcome new challenges as opportunities for insight, growth and change, and know that rhythm is your friend.