The other day, I decided to keep track of how many times I felt a little flutter of irritation, frustration, or stress. By mid-afternoon, I had already counted over twenty. Twenty moments where something small—a tone of voice, a traffic jam, a forgotten task—sparked a subtle surge of agitation. Life, as we know, rarely unfolds smoothly, and it reminded me how profoundly human it is to be affected by these little jolts throughout the day.

For years, I was like a relentless river—pushing forward, plowing through obstacles without pause. I was ambitious and hardworking, rarely took a break unless I was deathly ill. In university, I powered through with endless cups of coffee, diet Pepsi and minimal rest. I exercised endlessly in pursuit of something I thought would somehow fix me.

This morning, I made a classic mistake—I checked my email before meditating.

I know better, and yet, there I was. And of course, I read something that triggered an immediate flutter of irritation. Not only was I annoyed by what was written, but I was also annoyed at myself for reading it before I’d even had a chance to ground myself.

This morning, I woke up at 4 a.m. I love getting up early, but not this early. I tried to fall back asleep, but by 4:35, I gave in and started my day.

Ten years ago, waking up like this would have sent me into a spiral. My first thought would have been, "I didn’t get enough sleep. How am I going to get through the day?" My second thought? "Guess this will be a three-coffee day." Sound familiar?

My almost 99-year-old grandmother passed away last week. She lived a long, full life, and it was her time. But even when we understand this, losing someone we were close to stirs deep emotions.

I used to make the same resolution every year: This year will be the year I lose 15 lbs!

I never succeeded—except for the years I had my children. Honestly, I lost a good 20 lbs just in the process of giving birth! At least that’s one way to meet a goal, right?

Luckily, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to accept myself and even love myself as I am. But that’s not the only point here.

The purpose of formal practice isn’t to master a handstand or sit in perfect stillness for 20 minutes with a silent mind, although those things are fun and wonderful to experience. 

Formal practice is about carving out sacred time to nourish ourselves, calm our nervous systems, and quiet the mental chatter. It’s not about perfection; it’s about preparation—so that when life gets messy, we can meet it with grace and ease.

I’m addicted to being busy. I always have ten projects on the go, a full massage practiceI’m addicted to being busy. I always have ten projects on the go, a full massage practice, two young kids, and my regular classes. I hate the constant rushing and the exhaustion that comes with it, yet I can’t seem to stop. What am I running from?,

There was a time when I cared deeply about how others saw me. I didn’t just want to be good—I wanted to be the best. My competitiveness, determination, and ambition kept me striving for more.

The longest relationship we'll ever have is with our own minds, so it's worth investing the time to make it a good one. I want my mind to feel like a friendly, helpful, and welcoming place to be.