Between Raindrops
On transitions, returning, and what your body remembers
This is an invitation to pause, even if it is for one breath or two
I’m writing you this postcard from my yoga mat.
As I move through sun salutations while the morning sun enters the living room, I feel grateful for this quiet time to myself. There is no agenda, no performance, just movement.
My breath and body lead the way. My mind follows.
After sun salutations, I move into standing poses.
I find myself in tree pose, catching my reflection in the window. My body is balancing while my arms are moving almost like a dance. Then I let go of tree pose and my whole body starts dancing. The music that I’m listening to makes this happen. My feet move from one end of the yoga mat to the other for the rest of the song.
Then I return to my yoga practice.
I’m sharing this with you because today’s reflection is about remembering those moments when there is freedom inside us to move, breathe and play.
Indoors or outdoors.
And maybe also about remembering that after periods of contraction, there are moments when the body lets us know it is ready again.
Something shifted in my practice this month.
Maybe it is a combination of many things arriving together at once. One of them, was attending a group yoga class with a friend visiting from New York.
It was a rainy morning in Paris. I was feeling a little hesitant about the class. I knew it would be more challenging that the practice I have been doing.
As I moved through the 90-minute class, I realised how my body was keeping up with the pace, the rhythm, the movement. I also realised also how afraid I have been of trying certain poses after struggling through injury recovery.
At some point in this dynamic class, we were guided to move into backbends. I settled into bridge pose. I felt safe there.
The yoga teacher invited those who felt ready to move into full wheel pose. Wheel is sometimes described as a heart-opening pose. Receiving. Opening. Trusting.
I was happy to stay in bridge.
Then I heard the teacher ask me: “Would you like to try full wheel?”
In a micro moment, I hesitated. I quickly scanned my body.
One part of me wanted to say no. To stay in my comfort zone.
Instead, I said: “Yes. I’ll try.”
Holding the teacher’s ankles for support, I lifted into full wheel for the first time in a long time. And my shoulder was okay.
It turns out my body was ready.
Since that day, something feels different. My body feels more open. My practice feels lighter. I step onto my mat with energy that sometimes makes me dance. Like today.
I feel back home in my own body again.
And, I have been wondering if transitions teach us to notice differently. To notice what has been healing. What has been strengthening. What has quietly been waiting.
Here’s what I’ve learned after more than twenty years of practicing yoga and navigating many life transitions:
Your practice doesn’t have to look like it used to.
It doesn’t have to be perfect.
It doesn’t have to be long.
It just has to welcome you back.
Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Today.
Between the raindrops of what was and what’s becoming visible.
Your Reflection for the Week
When we navigate transitions, recover from injuries, or move through intense seasons of life, contraction makes sense.
We protect. We adapt. We are careful.
This week, I invite you to notice:
What transition are you navigating?
Where might support make it feel safer to soften, receive, or open?
And what does your body need today?
Welcome yourself back.
With ease. With grace. With gratitude.
Beautiful thank you for this sharing and invitation.