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Hello, dear one, Yoga Sutra 1.2 tells us that the ultimate aim of yoga is to quiet the fluctuations of the mind – to reach true clarity. The yogic sages described the disturbances that pull us away from that clarity as the kleshas. They name five of them: ignorance, attachment, aversion, ego, and the fear of death. Of these, I feel that the fear of death – abhinivesha – is often the least discussed. Most of us feel uncomfortable thinking or talking about death unless we absolutely have to. Yet death is a reality – and a guarantee – of having this opportunity to live. And, if we are paying attention, we meet many endings long before our final one. We leave a job. We move away; others move away. We go through a breakup or a divorce. We finally trade in the well-loved car with all those memories. We part ways with a friend. The vibrant summer garden fades into the bare winter bed. A beloved person or pet dies. Endings are woven into the fabric of living. This time of year, as we move toward the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere, Nature offers us its own reminder. These darkening days guide us into the fallow season – a kind of ending, a kind of completion, a kind of death. With that comes an opportunity to reflect on how we meet these thresholds. After all, winter is also a time for rest and renewal – a reminder that almost all endings create potent space for what will come on the other side. Restorative yoga, in particular, provides a beautiful container for these reflections. Savasana – translated as “corpse pose” – invites us to practice letting go of the trappings of our daily lives, release striving, yield into stillness, and notice what arises in the space. When we give ourselves the gift of extended rest, we also practice meeting endings with presence rather than resistance. In this way, both the practice of Restorative yoga and the seasonal turn toward darkness are wise teachers. They remind us of the inevitability of change, of endings, and yes, of death – as well as the opportunity to meet all of it with courage and clarity. I hope you might enjoy one of my favorite winter poems (below). Enjoying the sweet darkness,
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