Stillness Beneath the Surface

I’ve been a little quiet these past few months.
No new newsletters. No big tutorials. No retreat announcements.

I think I just needed time.

Whether I was showing up for the online world or not, I was showing up for myself. And lately, that has been enough.

Showing up has looked like this. Asana. Pranayama. Swimming. Long savasanas where time dissolves. Unhurried walks. Hours with Shifu. Even longer hours listening to Eckhart Tolle. Returning to the practices that make me feel like myself.

A month ago, my father passed away. You can save your condolences. They often feel like rehearsed lines we offer because we do not know what else to say. Haven’t I been here before, when my sister died? Yes. But that was different. We were sisters in the truest sense. Not a polite version of closeness, but the real, fierce kind. That loss rearranged me.

My father’s passing felt quieter. He had been unwell for some time. It was expected. We were never deeply close. If anything, I owe him my music taste, an ear for the good stuff. Beyond that, there is not much to untangle.

I suppose this is where people say life feels overwhelming. Too much. Unbearable.

And yet, I am calm. Almost untouched.

I think it is because I live inside the small moments. The big events, death, loss, change, are inevitable and largely out of our control. But the small moments are intimate. Available. Entirely alive.

A breath held gently at the top of an inhale.
The silence after a swim.
The warmth of a body that can move.
The ordinary miracle of a bed, a meal, money in the bank.

When life strikes, I return to these facts. I think of the suffering I do not carry. I think of Gaza. I think of factory animals. I think of the vastness of pain in this world. This is not comparison, but perspective. It anchors me. It reminds me how much is still intact.

This is my way. It does not have to be yours.

I do not feel the need to dramatize my pain or wrestle endlessly with what I cannot change. There are things beyond my hands. So I turn to what is within them. Making time for what I love. Protecting the rituals that keep me in my essence.

In the glimmer of these golden, ordinary moments, I remain steady.

I think of myself as the depths of the ocean. Still. Immense. Unmoved by the turbulence at the surface.

If there is a lesson in all of this, it is this.

Life happens in the small moments. Stop chasing the big ones as if they are the only places where meaning lives.

Tell me, how do you not feel something when you take a sip of warm tea? When you bask in the sunlight, with SPF on of course? When you pet an animal? When you wake up deeply rested? When you watch the relentless rhythm of the ocean? When you eat food made at home?

These are not small things. They are everything.

And yet, we rush past them. We postpone our joy. We tell ourselves we will feel fulfilled when the next milestone arrives. The next achievement. The next announcement. The next big moment.

Do not waste yourself on what you cannot control. You are not wasting anyone else’s time but your own. And time, my friend, is painfully limited. You may not be here tomorrow. You may not even be here tonight. Such is life.

Live for yourself. Do not forget your essence. Immerse yourself in the beautiful practices that are within your hands. Move your body. Breathe with awareness. Step outside. Touch the earth. Return to what steadies you.

The rest is surrender.

Class update: 

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Keep practicing 🙏