I think that, as with marriage, you just know when it's time to

Hear the gentle and discerning words of Ashley Judd, who said: “I think that, as with marriage, you just know when it’s time to have kids.” In this quiet truth lies a wisdom that transcends age and culture — the understanding that the great milestones of life are not dictated by clocks or customs, but by the rhythm of the heart. She speaks not as one following the expectations of society, but as one who listens to the still, small voice within — that sacred intuition which whispers when the soul is ready for its next unfolding.

The ancients would have called this knowing the voice of inner harmony — that state in which the spirit, the mind, and the world around us align in quiet agreement. Just as one cannot force the flower to bloom before its season, so too the heart must not be hurried into the covenants of life. Marriage and parenthood are not mere milestones, but sacred transformations. To enter them without readiness is to invite discord; to enter them with readiness is to invite grace. Judd’s words remind us that wisdom is not found in rushing to match the world’s pace, but in waiting for the soul’s consent.

In every age, there have been those who defied the timelines that others imposed upon them. Consider Queen Elizabeth I of England, who refused the demands of marriage, not out of disdain for love, but from a profound understanding of her purpose. Her reign became one of power and prosperity, not because she followed tradition, but because she followed her calling. So too, there have been mothers who waited until the later seasons of life to bring forth their children — or who chose instead to nurture through compassion rather than blood. In every case, the wisdom is the same: the truest timing is born not from pressure, but from peace.

When Judd speaks of “just knowing,” she honors the mystery of intuition — that quiet, wordless certainty that rises from deep within. It cannot be calculated or explained, for it belongs to the ancient wisdom of the soul. The philosophers of old spoke of this as gnosis, the knowing that precedes reason. It is the same knowing that tells a sailor when to set sail, a poet when to write, a lover when to speak the truth of the heart. To feel that certainty is to be in tune with the larger flow of life, where every decision arises naturally from readiness, not from fear or conformity.

And yet, Judd’s reflection also challenges the expectations that society so often lays upon women. In many cultures, the measure of womanhood has long been tied to marriage and motherhood, as though fulfillment could only come through those paths. But her words, tender and wise, reclaim the sacred freedom of choice. They remind us that timing belongs to the individual, not to the world. To know oneself — to feel the quiet assurance that “now is right” or “now is not yet” — is an act of sovereignty. It is the soul asserting its own rhythm against the noise of expectation.

In truth, both marriage and parenthood are acts of creation. Each requires the heart to expand beyond itself, to make room for another. Such expansion cannot be demanded; it must be inspired. The one who enters either bond without readiness soon discovers that love alone cannot sustain what was begun in haste. But when entered with clarity and calm, both marriage and the welcoming of children become acts of beauty — reflections of divine timing. For in the natural order of things, everything that is real is also ripe; everything forced remains fragile.

Let this, then, be the lesson to those who come after: trust the wisdom of your own season. The world will tell you when it believes you should love, wed, or bear children — but the soul’s timing is the only truth worth following. Listen deeply, without haste. When it is time, you will not need to be told; your heart will know, as surely as spring knows when to break the winter’s hold.

So live as Ashley Judd counsels — with patience, courage, and trust in the unfolding of your own life. Do not rush toward the next chapter out of fear of missing your place. Each life blooms in its appointed hour. When love deepens, when readiness ripens, when the heart whispers, “Now,” you will know — and in that knowing, you will find not duty, but joy.