Are we there yet?

Trusting the transitions that lead to growth

Healing is not possible with­out patience. And we must accept that letting go is a gradual process.

-Young Pueblo

The Messy Middle

The Spring Equinox has come and gone, which means spring has officially sprung! It’s all bunnies, butterflies, and daffodils from here, right?

Well… not exactly.

Yes, those coveted signs of spring are forthcoming. The grass will grow. The songbirds will return. The bunnies, butterflies, and daffodils will show up—eventually.

But first, we must pass through a transitional period. We don’t say goodbye to winter the night before the equinox and wake up to a fully bloomed spring the next day. That’s not how nature works. Nothing in life works like that.

We’ve entered the thaw—or “breakup” here in Alaska, also known as “mud season.” Whatever name you give it, it all means the same thing: this time of year is messy. It’s wet, it’s muddy, and honestly? It stinks. At least it does in Alaska—If you’re curious, you can read all about it here, in this issue from last April.

This transitory season—while annoying—is necessary.

The soggy ground is slowly becoming fertile soil. Dormant seeds lie just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to sprout. The sun, a little higher each day, is warming the earth to support the abundance of life that will soon blossom.

These in-between times offer more than lessons in patience. They give us space to move forward gradually, rather than leaping ahead before we’re fully ready to recieve what’s waiting on the other side.

Arriving to the Arrival

I teach a yoga class every Sunday morning at a local lodge in my hometown. It’s a blend of gentle asana and Yoga Nidra. The Yoga Nidra is the heart of the class—but I know I can’t just drop my students into a 45-minute meditation straight off the street.

They need time to transition—from the busyness of life into the stillness of deep rest. I’m always exploring new ways to guide them there as skillfully as possible.

Lately, I’ve been starting my classes standing. We begin with simple breath work to help us arrive—in the moment, the practice, and the body. Then we move, slowly and steadily making our way down toward the ground over the course of about thirty minutes.

I’ve noticed that when I meet students exactly where they are—wandering in from their lives, full of coffee, anticipation, and whatever came before—and bring them down with intention and patience, the shift happens naturally. By the time we reach the floor, there’s a collective softening. A calm you can feel in the room.

And then we begin the process all over again. But this time from a place of presence.

I think of it like a leaf drifting slowly toward the earth. When that little leaf finally lands, its journey isn’t over. It has only just arrived at the real work of integration. Once resting on the fertile ground, it begins to dissolve. To return to the earth. To become something new—perhaps a blade of grass, a flower, or even a whole new tree—ready to rise again when the time is right.

When my students settle into their Nidra nests, they are like that little leaf.
I’ve guided them down, delivered them safely to the earth—and then I step back, trusting them to take it from there. My work ends where theirs begins—in that sacred space of surrender.

Getting Dirty

If anyone’s guilty of rushing through a stage, season, or situation just to get to the next, more desirable one—it’s me.

Right now, I find myself in a kind of metaphorical mud season. A liminal space. I’m no longer in crisis, but I haven’t quite arrived at whatever comes next. I can feel the new season stirring on the edges of my life—just beyond reach, close enough to glimpse but not here yet.

And just like the ground beneath my feet this time of year, this place is messy—soft, uncertain, uncomfortable. But maybe that’s the point. If I sit in the mud long enough, I might begin to see the gift hidden in all that uncertainty: possibility. Maybe I’m meant to spend this time envisioning what I want to plant, nurture, and grow in the next season of my life.

I have a choice to make. Is this a stagnant, lifeless time to be endured until something changes? Or is it a time for dreaming?

I choose to be a dreamer. Because when a dreamer looks out on a barren landscape, they don’t see emptiness—they see potential.

Energizing Yin Yoga Flow for the Spring Equinox | Taylor’s Tracks Yoga

32 Minutes | All Levels

Taylor describes this sequence as “a vinyasa flow with yin poses sprinkled in,” and I think that’s the perfect summary. The title might suggest a slow, gentle class—but don’t be fooled. It’s much more energetic than I expected.

I wanted to share this class with you for a few reasons:

First, I had fun practicing it. I went from thinking “OMG this feels amazing” to “WTF” and back again. It felt good to try some challenging poses—and even better to fail at them. I laughed at myself. I remembered it’s not that serious. It was refreshing.

Second, I featured one of Taylor’s classes many months ago, and I’m so impressed by how much her teaching has evolved since then. I love watching people grow and succeed, so it was such a joy to return to her channel and see how far she’s come. So inspiring!

i hope i never stop being a beginner

i hope i never stop being a beginner | milk and cookies

5 Minute Read | Required reading for life!! (in my humble opinion)

I’ve read this inspiring piece from the milk and cookies newsletter twice now—and I’ll probably read it again.

milk and cookies is one of the newest additions to my Substack subscriptions and already one of the few I read religiously. Everything she writes reflects the outlook on life I’m always trying to cultivate. It’s pure soul food.

This piece, in particular, speaks to something I’ve been prioritizing lately: curiosity. I’m convinced it’s the key to a wildly fulfilling life.

Inviting Possibilities Meditation | Loren Runion

24 minutes | All Levels | Beginner Friendly

This brief Yoga Nidra meditation is a beautiful invitation to drop into the realm of limitless possibility—and stay there for a while.

I love how Loren keeps her guidance simple and spacious, allowing room for an individual experience to unfold. Her expert guidance helped me settle into a deep state of relaxation where my limitations began to dissolve, and I could truly feel into the potential of what lies ahead.

This one is just lovely. I hope you find time to try it this week.

I introduced the new Rest/Integrate section in last week’s issue and i’ll recap for those of you who missed it.

This section offers simple prompts for meditation, journaling or reflection. There’s no right way to engage—simply notice if they spark something within you. Sit with one or all of them, and see what unfolds throughout the week. Let them slowly sink in. There’s no rush—just an invitation to explore..

1. Where in your life do you feel stalled—and is it possible you’re not stuck, but simply in transition?

2. How might you invite patience into your awareness and sit with what’s present, even if it’s uncomfortable or uncertain?

3. What can you appreciate about this in-between time, knowing it won’t last forever?

Have a lovely week. I’ll see you next Sunday.