This morning, as the sun was just beginning to warm the mist hanging over the valley, I read your words. I felt that feeling deep in my bones, the one where you’re standing still, but the world is rushing past, and the silence of your own life feels deafening. Here in the quiet of the countryside, the seasons teach me this lesson again and again. Winter can feel endless, a blanket of white that smothers every landmark, making you forget the vibrant earth that lies sleeping just beneath. It sounds like you are in a long winter of the soul, my friend, and I want you to know that even here, especially here, the thaw always comes.
The Field of a Thousand Dreams
You speak of wanting to design, then edit, then code, and the sheer weight of it all leaves you frozen. It reminds me of walking through the fields behind my home in late July. They are a riot of possibility; purple chicory, wild daisies, fiery Indian paintbrush. If I went out with the goal of picking the ‘perfect’ bouquet, I would be paralyzed. Which one is best? Which combination is right? I would end up with nothing but anxiety and empty hands. The secret, Ive learned, is not to find the perfect flower, but to simply reach down and pick one. To admire its unique colour, the way its stem feels in your hand. Your ambition isn’t the problem; it’s the belief that you must choose everything at once. In yoga, when our minds are scattered, we practice drishtia soft, steady gaze on a single, unmoving point. It doesn’t make the rest of the room disappear, but it brings us home to ourselves. What if you were to offer one of your dreams a soft gaze, just for a little while?
The Beauty of a Crooked Path
There is an old birch tree on the trail I walk every day. Its not the tallest or the straightest. Years ago, a winter ice storm must have broken its main trunk, because it now grows in a wild, beautiful curve, reaching for the sun in a way none of its neighbours do. We often think our lives should be like the proud, straight pines, following a clear path to the sky. But most of us are more like that birch, shaped by the storms weve weathered. Leaving Australia wasn’t a failure; it was a storm that changed your direction. It taught you what you *don’t* want. That is a painful, but incredibly precious, piece of wisdom. My own path to this life was anything but straight. I thought I wanted the city, the rush, the career. But my spirit, like a stubborn root, kept seeking softer ground. Every detour, every ‘mistake,’ was just my life carving out a more authentic shape, like that crooked birch.
One Single, Conscious Step
You say you want to get strong, to build a skill, to stop escaping. These are beautiful, powerful intentions. But they are destinations. The journey doesn’t begin by teleporting to the mountain peak; it begins by lifting your foot for the first step. When a student is new to the mat, we don’t start with a headstand. We start with the breath. We learn to stand in Tadasana (Mountain Pose), feeling our feet on the ground. That is the work. So, I ask you, what is the smallest, most gentle step you can take today? Not ‘build a career,’ but ‘watch one video tutorial on a subject that sparks your curiosity.’ Not ‘get strong,’ but ‘do one sun salutation when you wake up.’ The purpose you seek isn’t found in the grand plan; it’s built in the quiet integrity of these small, daily promises you keep to yourself. This is how you become someone you are proud of. Not with a roar, but with a whisper. A single, conscious breath, followed by another.
The person you are right now, the one who is tired of wasting time, the one who is brave enough to admit they are lost is already someone to be proud of. That person is the seed. All it needs is a little patch of earth, a little water, a little sun. Be gentle with yourself. The path is there. It has been all along, waiting patiently under the snow.
With love and light,
Jessica