Old Garbage, New Depth

The Energy

There's a pressure in the undercurrent this week. I have definitely been noticing it in my body and in my emotions. Many of you have been sharing similar sentiments with me over the past couple of days. It's showing up in the stories we're telling ourselves about what we "should" be doing and how we should be or shouldn't be feeling. (Oh, the wonderful world of 'should', huh?)

There's an interesting dance in the moments when everything feels off, urgent, or squeezed. And when we pause long enough to ask why, we usually find many layers of old garbage underneath it. Maybe it's a subconscious need to be needed. A deep-rooted pattern of people-pleasing. The familiar feeling of perfectionism disguised as paralyzing procrastination.

It's interesting how quickly we can slip back into that without even noticing. But then it gets too loud to ignore and here we are.

This past week brought the gift of a few things I thought I'd already moved through surfacing again. My skin remembers. Old patterns asking to be released. Again.

There's a frustration in that. A grief, even. I've done this work. I've moved through this before. And here it is, asking yet again? Seriously, we have to go deeper here??? Ugh.

But maybe that's not failure. Maybe it's just how far into the caverns this goes.

I want to offer some quiet permission you may not be expecting. After so many months of being asked to grow, to shift, to step into something new, we get to ask: can we just be here for a moment? Can we move at our own pace instead of the pace the world insists on?

The astrology is still intense. Still moving things forward. But the invitation this week feels different. It's asking us to turn toward what's new, not to chase it. To feel the shift in our bodies with grace and compassion, while we gently allow ourselves to surrender as we move our way through it, slowly if necessary.

That's where the real work lives. And that's what I'm practicing right now.

The Teaching

You know all those thoughts that are constantly running through your annoyingly human brain? Whose voice is that really? Where did the narratives you're listening to originate?

Getting honest with yourself about these questions might just change everything. Questions we often don't even consider until something in our experience forces us to get real with ourselves. Often not until our body starts screaming so loudly we can't ignore it anymore.

We all have stories we've absorbed and subscribed to. From our families. From the culture. From the systems we grew up in. About what a good person does. About what success looks like. About what pace is acceptable. About who we're supposed to become. And we live inside those narratives for so long that we might not be aware they're not ours.

I feel like I am starting to beat this horse to death but it's a very tough horse to break. And I see impacting everyone I work with.

When you're living someone else's expectations, someone else's prescription of who you should be, there's a particular kind of exhaustion. It's not just tired. It's the tired that comes from constantly proving yourself to an audience that will never actually see you. It's the tight knot of unending people-pleasing. It's the anxiety of perfectionism. It's the skin that remembers every time you abandoned yourself in service of approval.

These signals from your body are your personal indicators of misalignment. They show up in patterns. They've been showing up for a long time, probably. The way you move too fast when things feel uncertain. The way you shrink when you're truly seen. The way you say yes when your body is asking for no.

The patterns are trying to tell you something. They're not character flaws. They're beacons.

There is a principle of non-harm in the yamas of yoga, ahimsa. It's often talked about as something we do for others. We practice it toward the people we love. We're gentle. We're kind. We don't cause suffering.

But ahimsa starts with you.

It's the refusal to abandon yourself in service of someone else's narrative. It's the small no when your nervous system is asking for it. It's the pace that fits your body, not the pace the world insists on. It's the honest conversation instead of the performance. It's becoming aware of and stopping the way you've learned to move through the world, apologizing for your needs, proving your worth, smoothing your edges so you won't be rejected.

That's ahimsa. That's yoga. It isn't practiced in posture. It's practiced in the way you live.

Because yoga at its foundation was never about the asana. It was about union. About coming home to yourself. About how you breathe. How you show up in the ordinary moments when no one is watching and there is nothing to prove.

And when you start to practice that, when you start to listen to your own narrative instead of the ones you took on, the words you use matter. The language you use to describe where you are and where you're going becomes a spell. It shapes what you create. It shapes what you become.

If you're always talking about how behind you are, how much you have to prove, how much further you need to go, that's the frequency you're broadcasting. That's what you're magnetizing.

Your Original Frequency knows this already. It's been waiting for you to remember. And it will keep asking, through your skin, through your body, through the patterns that keep showing up, until you finally start listening to your narrative instead of everyone else's.

The Invitation

This week, I invite you to get more curious about your patterns.

Notice when you slip into that familiar pressure state. When everything suddenly feels squeezed and urgent and like you're behind. Pause for a moment. Don't try to fix it yet. Just notice. What story is underneath it? What are you believing about yourself or the situation?

And then ask yourself: what does my body actually need right now?

Maybe it needs you to say no. To set a boundary. To move slower. To ask for help instead of proving you can do it alone. Maybe it needs you to pause before you consume something, a conversation, a piece of news, a scroll, and ask: does this feed my true nature, or does it feed the old story?

Your body knows. Trust it.

This is ahimsa in action. It's not a big gesture. It's the small no. It's the honest conversation instead of the performance. It's noticing the way you've been taught to move through the world, then choosing something different, even if it's just this once.

And the words you use matter, we talked about words as spells a few weeks back. This week I invite you to pay attention to how you're talking about where you are. If you catch yourself saying "I'm so behind" or "I have so much to do" or "I'm not ready yet," pause. Can you shift it? Find a reframe? Can you say instead: "I am learning. This is where I am right now and that's okay. This is my pace. This is my truth."

It doesn't have to feel true yet. Try it anyway. Don't justify or invalidate it. Just try saying it. Language is powerful. It shapes the field you're standing in. And when you speak differently about yourself, you will start to become what you're speaking into.

So this week, practice listening to your own inner voice. Ask your body what it needs. Claim the words that actually belong to you.

This is ahimsa. This is yoga. And you don't have to be perfect at it.

Come Find Me