The cooler, overcast days of autumn have arrived in the Pacific Northwest. Winter is coming... and I'm daydreaming of that beach above in Mexico.

When I first moved to Seattle, I discovered that at this higher latitude, I struggle with something called Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) during the dark winter months. I reject the term "disorder" as it simply feels like my biology is sending me a clear message that it loves sunshine and I have to consciously set myself up for success when the dimmer, shorter days arrive.

The reality is that for all of life that is smooth, joyful, and exquisitely beautiful... life is also bumpy, horrifying, and heartachingly painful. We've all heard this in sayings such as "you don't get the sweet without the bitter". "Brutiful" is now in the Urban Dictionary. Wherever there is beauty, we never have to look too far to also see the brutal.

We know this.
We forget this.
And then life teaches us again.

A short, simple newsletter this month. As of today, I am off on my own summer adventures (cross country road trip), and will resume teaching starting Sunday, August 8. In the meantime, please enjoy my on-demand library (link below) – and have a wild, precious summer, full of wonder and languid days

Life inevitably includes grief. Not maybe, but when. Many of us would probably choose to only embrace the golden orb of joy, if given a choice... but every one of us knows that, in our lifetime, we cannot and will not escape touching the shadowed face of sorrow.

Grief is a shapeshifter. It is both universal and profoundly personal. It is a natural aspect of being an awake and aware human being.

It may be that we want to be anywhere but with that raw, honest, present moment reality. I would propose that getting quiet to listen inwardly might be one of the most brave things we do in our lives. We don't always like what we see. We don't always want to see what we've buried there. Or, we know exactly what is in there, and know we aren't ready to be with it fully. Sometimes we don't want to listen when that damn internal wisdom speaks; we had other plans!

But there is also broad potential for healing and growth there in the fertile soil of stillness.

Looking around, here, too, are the first cheerful daffodils and the earliest blush of cherry blossoms. The birds, suddenly busier with song and nest building. The sun, a little more visible in the gray Pacific Northwest sky, plays peek-a-boo; the clouds, full of drama and random hail storms. Daylight stretches out like a caress, minute-by-minute, with each passing day. I, myself, feel a desire arising to play in the pots of dirt in my rooftop garden.

Hello from a tiny town next to a big ocean. I am here for on annual self-guided solitude retreat, where I spend delicious amounts of time in silence (save the soundtrack of ocean waves & rain), soul tending, and dreaming up the coming year of offerings for you.

A new year has arrived with reminders – both inspiring (Wow, Georgia!) and horrible (the attempted coup) – that we remain on the ragged, living edge of (r)evolution, and there is much work to do.

I, myself, have been recently reflecting (again) on why we rest. Why do I so passionately advocate and hold space multiple times a week, week after week, for our community to rest? Why rest when it is clear that there continues to be so much need for action?!

This year has been chock-full of distraction, distancing, and drama. As it comes to a close, may you find yourself giving and receiving Presence. I believe this to be the most powerful and valuable gift we can give ourselves – and others.

Recently, something occurred to me for the first time: to hold Presence in any given moment, there is nothing I need. It is not doing a thing; it is not having a thing; I do not need to acquire / find / buy / know anything, or feel a certain way.

Do you remember that you are a miracle?

You are the manifestation of your ancestors' dreams. Ridiculously tiny mathematical odds led to exactly your person being exactly here and now, where you sit, breathe, and read these words.

I recently read that for you to be born from the past 12 generations you needed a total of 4,094 ancestors over the past 400 years. The probability of you existing at all comes out to nearly zero!

Take a moment to let that sink in.

Why do I bring this up? Because each of us alive today stands on the ragged edge of evolution, descended from a long line of change agents. It is a miraculous gift that we are here, now!

There is – and will continue to be – important, sea change work to do! This year has leveled up the wakeup call. I guarantee that your community and this planet needs YOU. And they need you healthy, vibrant, focused, and sustainable.

In service of this – our collective community wellbeing – I will keep shouting from the mountaintops: REST IS ESSENTIAL!!

Rest is a key survival skill of the 21st Century... and I've yet to meet anyone who doesn't need more of it. Rest is not just sleep (although sleep is necessary for a well-rested human). It's not just naps. It's not scrolling or screen time. It's not distraction. It is the opposite of distraction.

Have you noticed how easy it is to fixate on “what’s wrong”? Or that bad news makes more headlines than good news? Or that insults or slights stick in your craw more than praise? Our human brains are literally wired for something psychology researchers call “negativity bias”. This means we often remember traumatic experiences more vividly than positive ones, think about negative things more frequently than positive ones, perceive bad news as more truthful than good news (!!), and react more strongly to negative stimuli. The scientific theory is that this is an evolutionary function of our brain's constant need to frame all of life through its survival lens – it’s always trying to keep us safe from potential danger. Negativity bias can adversely skew how we think, respond, feel, and make decisions – from a place of fear and pessimism, rather than discernment and consideration.

There is much on my mind and in my heart these days, friends. Yours, too, I know. I hope that you and yours are finding love and support... and remembering how critical it is to take downtime. We have more to do. I am using my particular position of privilege in the world to listen, learn, watch, donate, collaborate, and last – but never least – to hold space for others listening, rest, and healing.

I've recently returned from a two-and-a-half week cross country road trip from Seattle to New Mexico, and back. I'd like to share one of the insights that came from witnessing breathtaking geological marvels formed by inconceivable eons of erosion, plate tectonics, and climate change: Everything is changing – all the time. Nothing is static, immutable, or forever – not even a mountain. There is slow, steady, imperceptible change; urgent, violent, disruptive change; change that comes without warning; change that simmers and hints, a long time coming; change that unfurls wondrous before our eyes.

I woke up today thinking "Yes, you can be grateful AND angry at the same time." Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that we have access to the entire wild spectrum of human experience at any given time... and that that fact can be both overwhelming AND a powerful tool for authentic connection. And that's where I'm at these days, my friends. Feeling all the feelings, combined with intermittent fatigue, overwhelm, and confusion, doing the best I can to take care of myself and others, as I ride this new world rollercoaster with all of you.

How are you? What are you doing to stay resilient? What have you given up? What have you gained? Are you taking naps? This is a remarkable time for our brains and bodies, and they need more rest because they're under stress and expending precious energy adapting to a new not-normal.

Whether you are working with renewed or expanded commitments keeping our communities safe and functional, honoring a stay-at-home order by limiting your normal actions, in quarantine, and/or home with your children trying to figure out how to home school — every one of us needs time dedicated to quieting our nervous system; keeping our immune system strong; connecting with our own body, heart, and mind; and refilling the inner well.

Summer skies and temperatures are pretty much perfection up here in the Pacific Northwest! The cherries, peaches, and pluots have been blowing my mind. I've managed to get out of the city and into the mountains backpacking for several long nourishing weekends. I've gone swimming in lakes, and even tried out SUP (Stand Up Paddle) boarding for the first time! And in the midst of all of this savoring joy and abundance, I've found it challenging to carve out actual rest time.

I've spent a lot of last past year letting go. Again. And creating space. Again. Renewal is always and constantly a process. It is non-linear, often iterative, adaptive, and seldom as simple as we'd like it to be. I could make, as many others have, a strong case that life is cyclical; an ebb and flow of opening and closing; of letting go and reaching out; recurring creation and destruction; of inhaling and exhaling. And with any and all forms of letting go, spaciousness, freedom, and the capacity for something new arises. For me, yoga and movement have been and continue to be a resource for being in mindful connection with and observation of this cycle within my own life.

As our much-anticipated plans of summer arrive and manifest, may we hold the intention to pause. To pause as a practice of spaciousness, of savoring, and of presence. Pausing allows us to remember that life's moments are transient, and offers us an opportunity to hold keen awareness of the physical, emotional, mental, and energetic qualities of our now experience. These bright, long days of summer feel abundant on the waxing approach to Solstice, and let us relish the fullness of being alive and human. What is your favorite practice of pausing during the busy summer? I'd love to hear from you!

Winter and Spring have come and gone. During that time, there have been many endings, and just as many beginnings. The biggest news is that after 13 years of calling San Francisco home, I've uprooted myself, and am now in the process of re-rooting in Seattle, Washington. Seattle is gorgeous this time of year. The ever-changing sky, the profusion of flowers, the peekaboo mountains: each day, there is some sight that takes my breath away. There is an excitement and delightful novelty to being in a brand new place, starting over; everything is new again. And, there is a kind of fatigue that accompanies this degree of radical change. Transition is hard. It's easy to forget this while we hustle bustle to keep all the plates spinning. Our brains are hard wired to resist change because it takes more energy, and it becomes a conscious practice in and of itself to embrace it. Can we be gentle with ourselves while we are in the midst of change? While we are literally changing our brains and our bodies all the way down to the cellular level? How can we bring that gentleness into our daily lives, our relationships, our yoga practice? Self-care, mindful compassion, saying no, setting boundaries, love notes to yourself, movement, mantra, deep rest, deep breath, eating well, and seeking those things that feed your soul... all are ways to rejuvenate and keep us thriving in the midst of change. What ways do you find helpful? I'd love to hear them!