Embracing the Medicine of Seasons

Happy new moon friends! It’s the first new moon of 2022, the first one of the winter season, and I’m feeling hopeful anticipation.

It’s been about half a year since I last wrote you back near the summer solstice of 2021 and I’VE MISSED YOU! Over the last several months, I’d often think about you and wish we were gathered in a room together, sitting in circle, sharing what’s on our hearts and our minds, before laying down to breathe.

What have I been doing the last 6+ish months? Taking a slight pause and cocooning a bit. I’ve been focusing on my health (I got a new insulin pump and my blood sugars are the best they’ve every been!) and enjoying having a new puppy (so much work/joy and she’s growing so fast!). I bought a new computer to update my technology for virtual work since my old dinosaur of a friend was starting to fade. I returned to “student mode” as I took a couple of online trainings and completed another level of craniosacral therapy. I spent a lot of family time with my sister who was visiting from Rwanda and with my brother before he returned back to NYC after living in MN during the height of covid. It’s been a needed time to do some quiet soul searching and reflection to find the words to describe my inner landscape.

*

*

During the summer, especially when we had that beautiful little window of time when it felt like covid was retreating, I thought I’d be hosting some in-person, outside breathwork. Summer seemed the perfect season! The outward energy and the warm conditions of Minnesota where we could actually lay on the ground outside seemed ideal! But I just couldn’t manage to do it. And for a long time I wondered WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??

It bothered me that I just didn’t have the energy or inspiration to hold any group gatherings, which usually brings me so much pleasure and creativity. It felt like I had gotten far away from myself and I didn’t know how to get back. After sitting in this space for awhile, what I finally realized was that I was experiencing a change of seasons in my business.

*

*

When I moved back from NYC to MN in 2015, I was in building mode for a couple years. Starting with workshops and offerings that maybe only had 2-3 people attending to steadily growing through word of mouth and eventually filling the room was a pretty sweet journey of meeting the amazing people in my hometown community. When I first started, most of the people in the room had never done breathwork before. When I unknowingly hit my summer season in 2019, at least half the room were experienced breathers and I was in a full schedule of hosting groups twice a month at two beautiful yoga studios, with a third one just for grief work beginning out of the space I was seeing 1:1 clients in, in addition to working a couple retreats and hosting seasonal drum circles with a dear friend.

Then came 2020 and we all know what happened. We stayed at home, places I loved started to close, Minneapolis burned, and my fall season had arrived. I did a lot of shedding, learning, unlearning, listening, grieving. This sounds like a silly thing, but I couldn’t even look at my facebook memories because it hurt too much to see what had been lost. I’m eternally grateful for the magical portals of the internet where we could still be together virtually and there were many gifts found in the slower pace of life as the world drastically changed overnight. Thank the goddess that most of my loved ones have survived and adapted and are doing well. But it has also been hard, uncomfortable, and life-changing.

2021 arrived and there was a hope that we’d return to some sort of “normalcy”, but I forgot that before the spring comes winter. So the grieving continued as I felt that pull inward to hibernate in my backyard among our summer garden and take a pause to re-evaluate how I want to show up, especially in the wellness world during this critical time of public health and community care. When I finally realized I was wintering, I stopped resisting. I felt more at ease with just being IN it and not needing to have all the answers.

Will 2022 bring with it my spring? I’m definitely feeling a shift for myself and a nudge to start creating again. But only time will tell and I’m committed to fully being present in the season of my life and gathering the medicine it has for me. What I do know is (…what I’ve heard from my heart during the quiet of winter…), it’s clear that my deepest desire is to GATHER us. To create places where we can come together for heartfelt conversation, deep listening, and being our full human selves. Those spaces might be a hybrid model of virtual and in nature… and hopefully someday in my very own studio space with gorgeous wood floors and bright natural light (planting that seed now for when the timing is right!). Doing our own personal healing work is essential, but doing so in community with the collective is the way we are going to change the world for the better.

I share this in case you too have been going through different seasons and cycles of your life. We are all just walking each other home after all and I’m grateful to be doing this wild life with you. It’s good to be back and I hope to connect with you soon.

*

*

In case you are feeling the pressure and the stress of a “new year”, just remember the moon is new EVERY 29ish DAYS! We have many opportunities for fresh starts and new beginning energy this year. So as we move across the threshold from 2021 to 2022, here’s my first new moon wish for you:

May your new moon be sweet, your new year be optimistic, your winter nourishing, your seasons enlightening, your mind inquisitive, and your heart centered.

A little new moon gift for you:

(Here is the playlist and email me if you’d like a downloaded version for your device! xo)

Do What Makes Us Feel Alive

I needed to run some errands last week and I realized I was feeling impatient about it because I noticed being huffy with hitting all the red lights. So I turned on some singable tunes and rolled my windows down (my favorite things to do in the summer!) and took some breaths to remind myself I didn’t need to be in a rush.

I ended up being in my old college stomping grounds, so (since I wasn’t in a rush!) I grabbed a bubble tea from a favorite college hangout and drove through my favorite St Paul streets on my way to the freeway. I was reminded of the days when I would head to the chapel steps on campus on a gorgeous evening with a big black sketchbook meant for lyrical musings and I’d watch the sun set over the Dew Drop pond while writing my reflections about life, purpose, my heart, and what is it all for anyway. This was the time before Instagram and when cell phones were for texting and calling and didn’t have so many distracting apps for scrolling.

And as I remembered this time of my life while pulling off the freeway, I witnessed the glowing sun perfectly setting over a body of water in a gasp-inducing moment and I felt so alive.

*

*

On Monday of that week (the beginning of beautiful June!), I shared a piece of art in my Instagram stories that said, “this week I will do what makes me feel alive” and without intentionally doing it, I ended up doing exactly that.

And my wish for us this new moon, this week, this summer, this season, this cycle, this year is that we do what makes us feel alive.

Maybe it’s Instagram or Facebook-worthy (and I’m excited to share in the experience with you as a witness if you do post about it) and maybe it’s those little things, like driving with the windows down, singing to belt-worthy songs, and reflecting on this brutiful life as the sun goes down.

Artist: @newhappyco

Another Ending, Another Goodbye

This past year has been quite the year of endings and goodbyes it seems.

it is with great sadness I share with you that River Garden Yoga Center, the home to my group breathwork circles since I moved back from NY in 2015, will be closing its doors on June 1st. The space will be reimagined into another type of community space and I’m not sure if I’m allowed to reveal yet what that is, but just know it will be in very good hands.

The magic and healing that we created together in that lower studio cave will be something I cherish forever. I can still hear our breath syncing up together before the start of the playlist, still feel the power of our voices, and still remember the incredible experiences, stories, and hearts that were shared with bits of chocolate and nuts in circle. I’m eternally grateful to have been given the gift of holding space in that room where it felt like we were being held in the embrace of the earth while tapping into deep emotion and profound moments. I’ve met truly incredible people in that room and felt completely in my purpose, in my body, and in sync with the cosmos. I will miss making beautiful center pieces as an offering to our circle, seeing you get all cozy with all the props, and moving about the room anointing you with oil and vibrations from my singing bowl. I will miss being left at the end of the night, tenderly cleaning up the space, feeling sweaty and satisfied by the work we did together there.

To give a proper goodbye, I’ll be holding one last circle at River Garden and you’re invited to come if you’re local. We won’t be doing breathwork (as I don’t feel quite comfortable breathing vigorously indoors together quite yet) but it will be a special ceremony I’m scheming up to honor our hearts and the dreams we are dreaming underneath the light of the full moon. I ask that you wear a mask to your mat so everyone can feel comfortable coming if they wish.

Each time I think about it, I feel waves of grief and gratitude. River Garden, thank you for everything.

{And please help me hold the intention for my next space to find me when the timing is right for us to breathe together in-person again. xo!}

The Anticipation of Blooming

In December of 2019, the River Garden Yoga Center teachers did a Secret Santa and mine got me a potted amaryllis. Being a novice plant mama, I loved receiving a new plant baby as a gift!

I didn’t really know how to take care of it though and all it did that first year was grow long green leaves that eventually got yellowish brown and fell off. At some point, close to Christmas of 2020, it was just a stubby bulb in the pot. I remember seeing a blooming amaryllis at the grocery store and texting a picture to my husband exclaiming: “this is what it’s supposed to look like!”

Then! On one of the gardening groups on Facebook, someone posted about the growing process of an amaryllis. The green leaves are what bring nourishment into the bulb and at some point in the year, you stop watering it and put it in a dark place to hibernate. When you bring it back out into the world to begin watering, it will grow the stalk that holds the buds with the flowers.

So I gave this a go. And to my great excitement, it bloomed!

*

*

There are so many delicious metaphors for us humans in this little story about my plant.

The need to hibernate and shore up our nutrients for the growing process.

The importance of doing research/self-inquiry/experimentation on how to take care of something/ourselves.

The letting go of “supposed to” and allowing the space for a different kind of timeline.

*

*

But I think what I loved most about this little story was realizing how FUN the anticipation of the blooming was.

Most of the plants I have in the house don’t have budding flowers, so the excitement of watching something grow (in February no less!) and change little by little each day tapped into a giddiness that felt like it came straight from my inner child. Not knowing what to expect and just being witness with a sense of wonder and allowing was a really freeing process.

And I thought: what if I gave MYSELF this permission to grow and change on my own timeline and in my own way. With wonder and allowing. With anticipation and excitement.

What if we did that for ourselves?

*

*

As I reflect on growing pains and growth spurts, I know growing and changing can be challenging. We are asked to push our edge, to take a leap of faith, to stretch beyond what we thought was possible, to have hard conversations, to get out of the routine and the comfortable. What if we also threw in a dash of anticipation, a splash of fun, and stirred it all up with a bit of play?

As the moon continues to grow on it’s way to being full (on Monday!) and we celebrate Earth Day every day, may we find the excitement, hope, and promise in the growing and blooming process as we move even more deeply into the spring season. xo!