It is that awkward time of year when we witness the shift in seasons and the reality of another year coming to its end. Where did this year go?
Time can feel like a construct of the mind, and yet life seems to be moving faster. I am noticing the need to slow down, even as life demands that we show up and keep the balls in the air. I am losing the space for creativity as the chatter of my ego finds so many ways to distract and confuse me.
Just writing those words asks for an exhale.
I feel overwhelmed.
Chaos abounds, and yet today, as I wake to the beauty of this day, I see the brilliant display of nature. The trees are shimmering in golden light. The reds, oranges, and greens are in their full expression of beauty.
I am once again humbled by the magnificence of Mother Earth. Life keeps changing form. Its essence lives in the mystery, and I am the grateful recipient of this miracle. Nature’s grand finale holds the promise of rebirth come spring.
What did this year teach me?
I use this time of year for reflection. I love to look back and remember the months that make up the past year. I sit and ask myself the deeper question: Not simply what did I do, but how did I grow?
Can I digest and assimilate the experiences I was blessed to live? In what ways did life present opportunities, whether I liked them or not, to expand and enrich my soul?
Who am I in these times of conflict and uncertainty? Can I bring forward the gifts I have been given and continue to enjoy the beauty and wonder of living today?
I have been reflecting on how difficult it can feel to make room for yoga, especially when the practice invites us to look more deeply into the mind’s habits and patterns. Life has been difficult for many souls. Even the opportunity to sit and simply breathe can feel out of reach.
We are living in shifting times, and reflection is not always an inviting thought. The collective mind feels exhausted.
I notice how easily we can lean into old habits and patterns that preserve the familiar. Comfortable choices may also keep us repeating the same frustrations and fears. Habits can create more inertia. The mind finds ways to avoid the effort of turning inward and turning our light on.
We become busy with our outer roles and commitments. We overdo until we are exhausted. Sometimes that exhaustion is a reminder to pause and consider what needs to change.
P.A.I.N. — Pay Attention Inside NOW.
For me, this is a reminder to listen with compassion to what I am experiencing.
When I see my behaviors and thoughts becoming linked to more fear and doubt, I know I need to go back to my practice and ask for help.
Exhale.
Once again, I am not going to get it right, but I am gently moving in a better direction.
The gift of retreat—and the return
I love to host retreats and bring people out of the familiar rhythms of their lives. I want to offer a safe place to let go of the roles that can keep us caught in our outer identities.
I want to ask the inner question: Who am I without the ways I protect myself and hide my deeper fears?
I recently returned from an amazing retreat in Turkey—a land of vast history, with people whose culture is so different from mine, and yet whose humanity feels so familiar. Human beings living daily lives, sharing in the richness of loving, and carrying individual stories that awaken my curiosity.
Travel always inspires me to keep learning and growing beyond the conditioning of my own upbringing and community. We are all creatures of learned habits.
When we travel, life presents us with circumstances we cannot control. These can become opportunities, gateways into a deeper understanding of ourselves. I get to observe how I respond. In what ways can I allow grace to unfold?
The gift of retreat is also in the return to our daily lives.
Can we continue our inner practices and maintain a greater sense of balance when we come home?
Returning to the small practices
I return to my daily life, living my yoga on and off the mat.
The falling leaves and chilled air remind me that nothing is permanent. I return to gratitude, not because everything is easy, but because there is still beauty here to receive.
I commit to being present for this day and appreciating the humble ways life reminds me that I am not in control of the outcome.
Today, I will water the seeds of loving-kindness in myself and look for ways to offer that kindness to others. I will move my body with respectful awareness that it is my only container, and it needs to be nourished. I will make room for rest.
As this season unfolds, I will welcome the foods of the harvest and tend the warmth of my inner fire. I will light a candle in the morning, offering this special 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.
And that is what I hope we make room for together at Yoga Among Friends: time to move, breathe, listen, and meet ourselves with a little more compassion.
If you have been away from your practice, you are always welcome to return. If you are just beginning, you are welcome, too. Perhaps this week, you can give yourself time for one class. You do not need to resolve everything before you arrive.
I will keep practicing alongside you. 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, and yet 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?