On Patterns, Practice, And Carving New Paths

I can't quite express how much this season truly feels like a fresh start.

It's been a month since our wedding, and I'm still growing accustomed to all the space I have in my mind and my schedule now that the wedding is over. And as I settle more into this newfound space, I find myself gently extending the boundaries of it – learning to create and take up even more space, in many ways.

This fall season I’m leaning into space by dropping a class from my weekly schedule and gently resisting to pick up another in its place.

Saying goodbye to a class is always hard, but it’s felt like the right step for a long time. And what I’m noticing in the process is that while I’ll miss seeing my students at that time every week, I’m not clinging to the class simply because it’s familiar. I’ve made my decision to choose space, and I’m moving on.

That pattern feels new.

Because while I've certainly had stages of my life when my schedule opens up, my impulse has always been to fill that space right away. Whether it’s taking on new work projects, diving into new hobbies, or piling on other obligations, space so far has always felt more like a swap of one thing for another rather than letting go of something completely.

(My mind jumps to Indiana Jones swapping a bag of sand for a golden idol. The stakes are lower – no booby traps in my schedule shifting - but the sentiment feels the same.)

But this is different. Instead of feeling anxious about what to do with all this space, I’m savoring it and feeling grateful for it. I’m open and curious to see what the next stage will bring. It’s a new pattern, and I’m excited to see where it goes.

There is, of course, a part of me that wonders if this is more of the same. If I'll start by leaning into space and then somehow find myself piling more teaching, more work, more anything onto my plate without even realizing it. If I'll end up right where I was at the end of August, feeling like every moment of my life was filled with to-dos and activities.

And at the same time, I have hope. Because while I'm well acquainted with my pattern of making space and then rapidly filling it, I also know that every time I follow this track, I learn something new. Even if only a little, I change. Through noticing the pattern, reflecting on it, and moving forward, I'm carving a slightly different path.

It strikes me that this is the nature of a yoga practice. Because no matter what limb you're focusing on (asana, meditation, breath work, etc.) the challenge is to explore repetition and self study. We return to the same philosophical concepts, the same postures, the same breathing techniques again and again, and we learn to watch the process with fresh eyes.

And we trust that if we do this well – if we pay attention – we will notice new experiences. We will learn and evolve.

So while I settle into this newfound space, I do have hope. Not that I'll perfectly execute every new habit and move forward without ever falling into old patterns. My hope is that this time around I'll learn something new, and that the new insight will stick.