It is that awkward, beautiful time of year when the seasons shift and I begin to feel another year moving toward its close.
Where did this year go?
I notice my need to slow down, even as life asks me to keep showing up and keeping the balls in the air. The chatter of my mind crowds out the space where creativity usually finds me.
Just writing those words asks for an exhale.
I feel overwhelmed sometimes. Perhaps you do, too.
And yet, this morning, I look outside and see the brilliant display of nature. The trees shimmer in golden light. Reds, oranges, and lingering greens offer their full expression of beauty.
Once again, I am humbled by the magnificence of Mother Earth.
Life keeps changing form. The leaves will fall, the branches will rest, and spring will bring another beginning. I do not understand the whole mystery. I am simply grateful to be here to witness it.
A different question for this season
I use this time of year for reflection. I like to remember the months that have brought me here, but increasingly, I find myself asking a different question.
Not simply, “What did I do?” but “How did I grow?”
Have I given myself time to digest the experiences I have lived? What did an unexpected challenge ask of me? Where did I become more patient, more curious, or more willing to ask for help?
Who am I becoming in these times of conflict and uncertainty?
There are days when reflection feels like one more demand. When I am tired, the familiar is comforting. I fall back into old habits, fill the quiet with another task, and tell myself I will make room for practice later.
I recognize this in myself.
When my thoughts become tangled in fear and doubt, I know it is time to return to my practice and ask for support.
An exhale. A little movement. A moment of honest attention.
I do not have to get it right. I can gently move in a better direction.
If you are beginning a yoga practice, I hope you know that you do not need to arrive with a quiet mind or all the answers. I certainly do not. We begin with what is here.
What retreat teaches me about coming home
Having recently returned from our retreat in Turkey, I am still carrying the beauty of that experience.
A land of vast history. People whose daily lives differ from mine, yet whose love, concerns, laughter, and individual stories feel deeply familiar.
Travel awakens my curiosity. It invites me to look beyond what I have learned to expect and remain open to what I do not yet understand.
This is part of why I love to host retreats. Stepping away from familiar surroundings can give us room to notice the roles we carry and the habits we rarely question.
Who am I when I set down some of those roles? What becomes possible when I do not need to manage every detail?
Travel also reminds me, quite clearly, that I am not in control of everything.
Plans shift. Something unfamiliar asks for patience. I get to observe how I respond. Can I soften? Can I listen? Can I leave a little room for grace?
But the gift of retreat continues after we unpack.
The gift of retreat is also in the return to our daily lives.
Can I carry that willingness to listen into an ordinary morning? Can I bring a little more patience to the people I love? Can I continue practicing when the laundry, the appointments, and the familiar responsibilities return?
I do not need to travel to keep asking these questions. My daily life offers plenty of opportunities.
Returning to the small practices
Now I return to living my yoga, on and off the mat.
The falling leaves and chilled air remind me that nothing stays exactly as it is. I return to gratitude, not because everything is easy, but because there is still beauty here to receive.
Today, I can move my body with respectful awareness. I can nourish myself with warm food and make room for rest. I can offer loving-kindness to myself and to someone whose day may be harder than I know.
I can light a candle in the morning and dedicate this day to something larger than my mind’s need to manage every outcome.
These are small practices. They ask me to return, again and again, to the life I am actually living.
That is what I hope we make room for together at Yoga Among Friends in Downers Grove: time to move, breathe, listen, and meet ourselves with a little more compassion.
If you have been away from your practice, you are welcome to return. If you are just beginning, you are welcome, too.
Choose one class this week and give yourself that time. You do not need to resolve everything before you arrive.
As this season unfolds, I will keep practicing. I will breathe in beauty and exhale a smile. I will leave a little room for adventure and for the mystery of being alive.
Yes, time feels as though it is moving quickly.
Today, I am choosing to slow down and be here.
In love and light,
Laura Jane
We’d Love to Hear From You
Sometimes a small, familiar ritual helps us find our way back to the present.
Tell us in the comments below: What is one small thing that helps you slow down—a walk, a favorite class, lighting a candle, or something else?