Mending with Mindfulness

I get the urge to dig out my planners, and something pulls me back. Slowness. My brain jolts—wants to pull everything out of the kitchen cabinets. Reorganize, reset, begin again. But something stops me short. Softness. My eyes scroll endlessly, everyone announcing new plans. Rushing and cleaning and setting goals on goals. The air even warms, a slight nod toward spring. Something in me whispers, wait. My plants need watering. There’s piddling to be done. I dabble. I piddle. I

What does it all mean, practically, when you walk into one of my classes? What exactly does this weird in-between style look like in the room, on the mat, in your body? I think the clearest way to describe it is by naming what you will not find, then showing what you absolutely will.

I have an itch. Not on my skin, though sometimes it feels that way. Not in my bones, though my body aches from it. It’s a pulse, a deep urge with no name, a constant presence. A longing. I have an itch— to write, to read, to learn, to scream, to cry, to run, to hide.

Past, present, and future, haunting us with a steady ache that doesn’t scream, doesn’t demand, but simply settles in like it belongs. It doesn’t knock us flat; it wears us down. The way a constant hum can drive a person mad, the way an old injury still throbs when the weather shifts. It’s not often urgent. It’s not loud. It’s just there.

For years, I thought I understood what “listen to your body” meant. Take a nap when you’re tired. Eat when you’re hungry. Stop when...

Only when I reached a new level of low, a summer of needing help up stairs and assistance cutting my own food, did I dare to ask God if there might be a better way. Actually, I'm not even sure if I had reached that point with my walk, I think it was more of a complete submission to the pain and fatigue to the point of not caring if I was in sin, if I went to yoga or dared to go to therapy (yikes - I know).

It's been a weird few years, and I struggle with how to talk about all the new and exciting revelations for lack of a better word that...

As I delved deeper into mindbody healing, I started to see that I had mistaken rigidity for resilience and control for faith.