Tending Our Hearts in the Storm

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Hello dear one,

This is what I’ve been sitting with lately: how to tend my heart in the storm – what it looks like to call upon grace when the world feels upside down.

Even if you’re only halfway keeping up with the news and current events – like me, because my nervous system simply can’t take more – it’s deeply upsetting. Heartbreaking, infuriating, disorienting, and so on. Do you feel it? I’m pretty sure I’m not alone, because many of you have been sharing similar sentiments.

A cherished friend recently asked me, “How are you finding peace while this is all happening?”

I had to pause and honestly ask myself that same question.

The first thoughts that surfaced were like a list: I welcome the tears… I try to sit still and quiet on my cushion every morning before any digital or screen interactions… I heavily moderate my media consumption… I make sleep a top priority… I make an effort to be extra kind… I walk outside in nature and see that the birds are blissfully unaware of the latest headlines… I remind myself that I am doing good work in the world…

All of this is true.
And…

There’s a deeper truth: my practice anchors me.

Sometimes I find peace inside myself. But not always. Sometimes peace doesn’t look like serenity, per se, but more like abiding. And my abiding is often transmuted to resilience: the ability to return to center, again and again – to find sanctuary within myself, so I can access loving kindness for myself and others. So I can keep showing up for my loved ones, my community, my students, and my clients… without hardening or burning out. So I can be kinder to strangers. So I can remember that all things change.

Yoga certainly doesn’t erase or change what’s happening in the world, but it often can shift my relationship with it.

I remind myself that yoga itself was born in a world of light and dark – goodness and cruelty, tenderness and harm, socioeconomic division, humans being human. Yoga has existed for 5,000 years and counting because it offers an opportunity to transform our suffering. The point has never been to pretend suffering and pain aren’t here… but to acknowledge that they are part of life, and then do our best to meet it all with courage, clarity, and compassion.

Yoga helps me metabolize and channel anger and grief.
It helps me regulate overwhelm.
It helps me reconnect to my wisdom.
It helps me find balance when things around our country and the world are reeling.

And my work – teaching yoga, offering yoga therapy, holding space for people – anchors me, too. Every week, I witness how these practices makes a real difference in people’s lives. And that is incredibly heartening for me.

Because if I can offer even one person a little more steadiness, a little more breath, a little less pain – a little more peace and calm in this chaotic world – then my life has contributed to the greater good.

What each of us has to offer matters. Even the smallest of kind gestures matters. Our lives matter. More than we know. And we are not alone.

In Sanskrit, the root word for yoga is yuj – meaning to unite, to yoke… union. Yoga teaches us that separation is an illusion. That we are never, in fact, separate: our bodies are not separate from our minds; we are not separate from each other; none of us are separate from the earth’s vibrant web of life.

And maybe that’s why yoga is such a balm for a broken heart.

Because in times like these, when so much seems fractured and divided, practice becomes a trusted way to return to the integrated and connected self. A way to honor the emotional landscape of being a messy, sacred human in this messy, sacred world. A way to appreciate the lived experience of who we come from, who loves and supports us (and vice versa), who looks to us to lead. A remembering who we are – in our hearts. A homecoming.

The human mind forgets. So we come to our mat, or our cushion, or our breath – again and again.

We practice being awake and aware of as much as we can. Clear seeing. Being kind. Standing up for what’s right. Trusting that hope and healing are ongoing… even in dark times. That there is light at the end of any tunnel.

And, dear ones, if you’re needing extra support right now in tending your own heart, it’s understandable. Know that I have two very special offerings created for exactly this purpose – coming up later this month, offered in-person. Both events are rooted in connection, steadiness, and sanctuary.

With tenderness and abiding,
Nicole