Essential Oil Blend for Presence: A Grounding Aromatherapy Ritual for Mindful Living

In a world that constantly pulls our attention outward, presence has become both a practice and a refuge. Presence invites us back into our bodies, our breath, and this moment—exactly as it is. Aromatherapy can be a gentle yet powerful ally in this practice.

This essential oil blend for presence was intentionally crafted to support grounding, calm the nervous system, and encourage mindful awareness throughout the day.


Why Use Essential Oils for Presence?

Scent is processed directly through the limbic system—the part of the brain connected to emotion, memory, and regulation. When used with intention, essential oils can:

  • Support nervous system balance
  • Encourage slower, deeper breathing
  • Reduce mental distraction
  • Anchor awareness in the present moment

For those living with chronic pain, recovering from surgery, navigating stress, or practicing mindfulness and yoga, grounding essential oils can serve as an accessible daily ritual.


The Essential Oil Blend for Presence

This blend balances earthy, floral, and citrus notes to create a sense of calm alertness—rooted yet open.

Ingredients & Benefits

Frankincense
Often called the “oil of awareness,” frankincense supports deep breathing, emotional regulation, and spiritual connection.

Lavender
Known for its calming properties, lavender helps quiet the mind and soften physical tension without dulling awareness.

Bergamot
A bright citrus oil that uplifts mood and eases anxious thought patterns, bergamot encourages gentle optimism and clarity.

Cedarwood
Warm and grounding, cedarwood promotes a sense of safety, stability, and embodiment.


Presence Essential Oil Blend Recipe

Roller Blend (10 ml):

  • 3 drops Frankincense
  • 3 drops Lavender
  • 2 drops Bergamot
  • 2 drops Cedarwood
  • Fill with a carrier oil (jojoba or fractionated coconut oil)

Diffuser Option:

  • 2 drops Frankincense
  • 2 drops Lavender
  • 1 drop Bergamot
  • 1 drop Cedarwood

How to Use This Blend for Mindfulness

  • Apply to wrists, heart center, or back of the neck before meditation or yoga
  • Use during breathwork or body awareness practices
  • Diffuse while journaling, resting, or during recovery time
  • Pair with a daily affirmation or mindful pause

Mindful Affirmation:
“I am here. I am grounded. This moment is enough.”


A Gentle Daily Ritual for Presence

  1. Apply or diffuse the blend
  2. Close your eyes and inhale slowly through the nose
  3. Exhale fully through the mouth
  4. Name three sensations you can feel right now
  5. Return to your day with softer awareness

This ritual takes less than two minutes and can be repeated whenever you feel scattered or overwhelmed.


Safety Notes

  • Always dilute essential oils before topical use
  • Avoid bergamot before sun exposure unless using a bergaptene-free (FCF) version
  • Consult a qualified professional if pregnant or managing medical conditions

Presence Is a Practice

Presence isn’t about perfection or constant calm. It’s about returning—again and again—to yourself. This essential oil blend is not a solution, but an invitation. A sensory reminder that you are allowed to slow down, breathe, and be here now.

If you enjoy practices that support mindful living, gentle yoga, and healing rituals, explore more resources at Embracing Spirit Yoga.

Mindfulness and Orienting: Using the 5 Senses for Grounding

The Power of Presence: A Guide to Sensory Orienting

In moments of high stress or mental clutter, our thoughts often drift into the future or dwell on the past. This disconnect from the “here and now” can lead to increased anxiety and a feeling of being overwhelmed. Mindfulness offers a solution through a practice known as orienting.

Orienting is the process of scanning your environment and using your physical senses to anchor yourself in the present moment. It is a biological signal to your nervous system that you are safe in your current space.

Why Orienting to the Five Senses Works

The human brain is wired to prioritize sensory input. When you intentionally focus on what you see, hear, or feel, you shift activity from the amygdala (the brain’s emotional center) to the prefrontal cortex (the rational center). This shift helps regulate the nervous system and lowers the heart rate.

The 5-4-3-2-1 Grounding Technique

One of the most effective ways to practice sensory orienting is the 5-4-3-2-1 method. This structured approach ensures you engage every major sensory system to achieve a state of calm.

Observe Five Things You Can See

Begin by looking around your immediate environment. Look for small details you might usually overlook. Notice the way light hits a surface, the texture of a wall, or the specific shade of a nearby object. Labeling these items internally helps solidify your presence in the room.

Acknowledge Four Things You Can Touch

Physical contact is a powerful grounding tool. Notice the sensation of your feet on the floor or the fabric of your clothing against your skin. You might pick up a nearby object to feel its weight, temperature, or roughness. Focus entirely on the tactile feedback your body is receiving.

Identify Three Things You Can Hear

Shift your attention to your auditory environment. Instead of judging the sounds as “noise,” simply identify them. You might hear the distant hum of traffic, the sound of your own breathing, or the ticking of a clock. Listen for sounds both far away and close to you.

Note Two Things You Can Smell

Smell is more directly linked to the brain’s emotional center than any other sense. Take a deep breath and notice any scents in the air. This could be the smell of coffee, fresh rain, or even the neutral scent of the room. If no distinct smells are present, recall a favorite scent and imagine it vividly.

Recognize One Thing You Can Taste

Finally, bring your awareness to your mouth. You might notice the lingering taste of a recent meal or simply the sensation of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. If you have a drink or a small piece of food available, take a mindful sip or bite, focusing entirely on the flavor profile.

Integrating Mindfulness into Daily Life

Orienting does not require a meditation cushion or a silent room. You can practice these steps while walking to your car, sitting in a meeting, or washing dishes. The goal is consistency rather than perfection. By regularly “checking in” with your five senses, you build a resilient nervous system that can more easily navigate the stresses of daily life.

Do Not Let Your Strength Get in the Way

Long ago, while volunteering in hospice—quietly rubbing people’s feet near the end of their lives—I met one of my greatest teachers.

She was almost breathtaking in her vibrancy. An angel in human form, luminous even as her body was preparing to let go. In our brief time together, she offered me a message that has stayed with me for years. One I still return to. One I am still learning.

My Teacher

When I noticed that we shared the same birthday, her eyes flew open with delight. Without missing a beat, she began listing the qualities of a Capricorn: strength, independence, tenacity, hard-working, task-completing, don’t-take-anything-from-anyone attitude—basic bad-ass energy.

We laughed instantly, recognizing ourselves in each other. Our shared stubbornness. Our headstrong resolve.

As I rubbed her feet, she mostly kept her eyes closed, her face soft and peaceful. The room felt calm, sacred. When I finished and began to stand to leave, she suddenly reached out and grabbed my arm.

With unmistakable Capricorn fierceness, she locked eyes with me and said:

“Do not let your strength get in the way.”

The silence that followed was vast. The words hung in the air, echoing long after they were spoken.

Moments later, her beloved partner walked past the bed. My patient gestured toward her and explained, “She’s a Cancer.” Then she turned back to me and said,

“We are Earth dwellers. Sometimes we have to carry the water of others.”
(She nodded gently toward her love.)
“And sometimes, we must allow the water to wash over us.”

Her eyes closed again. A soft smile appeared on her face.

A few moments later, she opened her eyes once more and asked me a question that caught me completely off guard:

“What do you want your kids to know before you die?”

Without hesitation, I told her that I wanted them to know—deep in their bones—that they are loved unconditionally and accepted for exactly who they are.

She smiled and said, “They already know that.”

The room grew quiet again. Still. Tender. As we said goodbye, tears streamed down both of our faces. In less than an hour, I had received more wisdom than I could have ever hoped for. Holding her hand, I thanked her—filled with gratitude.

Once more, she repeated:

“Do not let your strength get in the way.”

The Part I Didn’t Expect

The most startling part of this experience?

That very morning, I had tattooed the word “strength” on my ribs—after asking my boys to each offer one word they associated with me.

Strength.

Perhaps what I have called strength has also been a wall. A protective barrier. A survival strategy born from necessity and resilience.

And maybe—just maybe—while that strength has served me well, it has also gotten in my way.

Because strength, when held too tightly, can block tenderness. Independence can resist receiving. Resilience can forget how to rest. And self-sufficiency can quietly keep love at arm’s length.

As Rumi reminds us:

“Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

I still carry her words with me.
Still practicing.
Still softening.
Still learning how to let the water wash over me.

Turning 55: 55 Pieces of Wisdom Gained Through Living, Healing, and Presence

Turning 55 feels less like reaching a milestone and more like arriving home.

Home to myself.

With each year, life has gently—and sometimes not so gently—polished the rough edges, softened my grip on what doesn’t matter, and strengthened my trust in what does. Wisdom, I’ve learned, isn’t about having answers. It’s about learning how to listen: to the body, the heart, the breath, and the quiet voice within.

Here are 55 pieces of wisdom that 55 years of living, loving, healing, and beginning again have taught me.

55 Pieces of Wisdom

  1. Your body is not the enemy; it is the messenger.
  2. Rest is productive.
  3. Healing is rarely linear—and that’s okay.
  4. Presence changes everything.
  5. You don’t need permission to change.
  6. Boundaries are an act of love, not rejection.
  7. Silence can be deeply nourishing.
  8. Slowing down often gets you where you need to go faster.
  9. Comparison steals joy.
  10. Breath is always available—use it.
  11. Strength looks different in every season.
  12. Asking for help is a skill, not a failure.
  13. The nervous system remembers kindness.
  14. Small rituals can anchor big lives.
  15. Not everything needs fixing.
  16. Trust builds through consistency, not perfection.
  17. Pain can be a teacher without being the definition of your life.
  18. You are allowed to grieve what never was.
  19. Hope can be quiet and still be powerful.
  20. Listening is more transformative than advising.
  21. Your worth does not decline with age—it deepens.
  22. Energy is precious; spend it wisely.
  23. Being gentle is a form of strength.
  24. The body responds to safety before effort.
  25. You can begin again at any moment.
  26. Joy doesn’t need a reason.
  27. Saying no creates space for a truer yes.
  28. Wisdom often comes from lived experience, not books.
  29. The present moment is enough.
  30. Consistency beats intensity.
  31. You don’t have to carry everything alone.
  32. Compassion includes yourself.
  33. The way you speak to yourself matters.
  34. Growth sometimes looks like rest.
  35. Trust your intuition—it’s been practicing longer than you think.
  36. Letting go creates room to breathe.
  37. Aging is not something to resist; it’s something to inhabit.
  38. Stillness is not stagnation.
  39. Love expands when it’s shared freely.
  40. Being embodied is a lifelong practice.
  41. Progress can be subtle and still meaningful.
  42. You don’t owe anyone your depletion.
  43. Presence is more valuable than productivity.
  44. Wisdom often whispers.
  45. Adaptation is a form of resilience.
  46. Your story matters, exactly as it is.
  47. Living slowly is a radical act.
  48. Patience is built through practice.
  49. There is beauty in becoming.
  50. What you nurture grows.
  51. You are more than what you do.
  52. Trust takes time—especially with yourself.
  53. Meaning often lives in the ordinary.
  54. Your breath can always bring you home.
  55. It’s never too late to live with intention.

Closing Reflection

At 55, I’m no longer chasing life—I’m meeting it.

With curiosity. With compassion. With a deeper trust in my body and my becoming.

May we all honor the wisdom that comes not just from years lived, but from moments fully felt.

Healing Winter Stew with Bone Broth, Grass-Fed Beef & Vegetables

A Healing Winter Stew for Deep Nourishment

Winter asks us to slow down, warm up, and nourish ourselves from the inside out. When the body is healing — whether from surgery, stress, or simply the weight of the season — food becomes more than fuel. It becomes medicine, ritual, and care.

This hearty winter stew is one of my favorite ways to support healing. It’s rich in protein, minerals, collagen, and grounding flavors — designed to warm the body, stabilize energy, and offer deep nourishment with every bite.

Paired with homemade sourdough, this meal feels both humble and sacred.

Why This Stew Supports Healing

  • Grass-fed beef provides high-quality protein, iron, and zinc — all essential for tissue repair.
  • Bone broth is rich in collagen, amino acids, and minerals that support joints, digestion, and immune health.
  • Root vegetables ground the nervous system and provide slow-burning energy.
  • Garlic, herbs, and warming spices support circulation and immunity.

Healing Winter Beef Stew

Ingredients

  • 1½–2 lbs grass-fed beef stew meat or chuck, cut into cubes
  • 2 tbsp olive oil or avocado oil
  • 1 large onion, diced
  • 3–4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 carrots, sliced
  • 2 parsnips or turnips, chopped
  • 2 celery stalks, sliced
  • 1–2 cups chopped mushrooms (optional, but deeply grounding)
  • 4 cups high-quality bone broth (beef or mixed)
  • 1 cup water or additional broth
  • 2 tbsp tomato paste
  • 1–2 tsp sea salt (to taste)
  • 1 tsp black pepper
  • 1 tsp dried thyme
  • 1 tsp dried rosemary or a fresh sprig
  • 1 bay leaf
  • Optional: a splash of apple cider vinegar (to help extract minerals)

Instructions

  1. Heat oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat.
  2. Brown the beef in batches, allowing it to develop a rich crust. Remove and set aside.
  3. In the same pot, sauté onion until soft and translucent. Add garlic and cook briefly until fragrant.
  4. Stir in tomato paste and cook for 1–2 minutes to deepen flavor.
  5. Return beef to the pot. Add vegetables, herbs, bay leaf, salt, and pepper.
  6. Pour in bone broth and water, ensuring everything is just covered.
  7. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 2–3 hours, stirring occasionally, until beef is tender and flavors are well developed.
  8. Taste and adjust seasoning. Add apple cider vinegar if using.

Serve warm, paired with thick slices of homemade sourdough — perfect for soaking up the broth.

A Closing Thought

Making stew is an act of patience. You cannot rush it. Healing is much the same.

As this stew simmers, I often let it remind me: nourishment takes time, presence matters, and warmth — whether from food, breath, or kindness toward ourselves — is essential.

May this meal support you through the winter season, offering comfort, strength, and a gentle reminder that healing unfolds best when we slow down and stay present.

Choosing Presence in My Body: Healing Through Surgery and Trust

Why Presence Matters for Healing

There are moments in life when the body insists on being heard. Not with whispers, but with unmistakable clarity. This year begins with one of those moments for me.

I am facing two major surgeries.

One surgery to correct the underlying cause of blood clots in my arm — a condition that has required vigilance, patience, and deep trust in a body that has felt unpredictable at times. The second surgery is an attempt — a seventh attempt — to heal my left hip. Writing those words still feels surreal. Seven surgeries. Years of pain, recovery, setbacks, hope, and courage that had to be rebuilt again and again.

For a long time, my relationship with my body has been complicated. I have taught embodiment, presence, and gentle awareness for decades — and yet living inside a body that hurts can quietly erode trust. When pain becomes chronic, it’s easy to disconnect. To leave the body. To manage it instead of inhabit it.

This year, I am choosing something different.

My word for the year is presence — not as a concept, but as a practice rooted in flesh and breath. Presence in my body means allowing healing the space to unfold, without rushing, forcing, or abandoning myself when things feel slow or uncertain.

Presence means listening.

It means noticing subtle cues instead of overriding them. Honoring rest as an act of wisdom rather than weakness. Letting my nervous system soften instead of staying braced for the next setback.

These surgeries are not just medical events; they are invitations. Invitations to slow down, to receive care, to surrender the illusion of control, and to create the best possible conditions for healing — once and for all.

I am learning that healing does not respond well to pressure. It responds to safety.

Safety in the body. Safety in the breath. Safety in knowing I am not at war with myself.

There is grief here, too — grief for what my body has endured, for time lost, for versions of myself that moved freely without thinking. But alongside the grief is something else: a quiet, grounded hope. Not the flashy kind, but the kind that settles into the bones and says, I am still here.

This year, I am not asking my body to prove anything.

I am offering it presence.

And I trust that presence — steady, compassionate, and embodied — is what gives healing its greatest chance to take shape.

My Word for 2026: Presence

An Intentional, Soulful Action Plan for Mindful Living

For the past 28 years, I have chosen a single word to guide my year. This word becomes a thread—quiet yet strong—woven into the tapestry of my life. It’s not a resolution or a goal to accomplish, but an intention to return to again and again.

My word for 2026 is Presence.

Presence feels both simple and profound. It asks nothing dramatic of me—only that I show up fully for the life I am already living.


Why I Chose Presence for 2026

We live in a world that constantly pulls us away from the moment we’re in. Even meaningful things—healing, relationships, work, growth—can become rushed or lived on autopilot.

Choosing presence is my commitment to:

  • Be where my body is
  • Listen before reacting
  • Noticing instead of rushing
  • Live my life instead of racing through it

Presence is not perfection. It is awareness. And awareness changes everything.


What Presence Means to Me

Presence means meeting my life as it is, not as I think it should be.

It is:

  • Breathing before responding
  • Listening without planning the next sentence
  • Caring for my body with attention, not impatience
  • Allowing my habits to be conscious rather than compulsive

Presence is how I want to live—in my health, my relationships, my work, and my daily habits.


A Soulful Action Plan for Living with Presence in 2026

Rather than setting rigid goals, I’ve created gentle anchors—ways to return to presence throughout the year.

Presence in My Health

My body has taught me many lessons over the years, and in 2026 I want to honor it with deeper listening.

My practices:

  • Daily check-ins: What does my body need right now?
  • Moving mindfully instead of pushing through
  • Resting without guilt
  • Choosing nourishment that supports healing and energy

Presence in health means responding instead of forcing.


Presence in My Relationships

Presence in relationships means truly being with the people I love.

My practices:

  • Putting the phone down during conversations
  • Listening to understand
  • Allowing silence without rushing to fill it
  • Speaking honestly and kindly

Being present is one of the greatest gifts we can offer another person.


Presence in My Work

My work is meaningful, and I want to meet it with intention rather than urgency.

My practices:

  • Beginning workdays with a grounding breath
  • Focusing on one task at a time
  • Creating instead of constantly consuming
  • Honoring energy levels instead of pushing productivity

Presence in work allows creativity and clarity to lead.


Presence in My Habits

Habits shape our days, and our days shape our lives.

My practices:

  • Morning rituals that begin in stillness
  • Pausing before automatic behaviors
  • Noticing patterns without judgment
  • Choosing small, sustainable actions

Presence helps habits become supportive rather than controlling.


How I Will Return to My Word Throughout the Year

A word of the year only works if we remember it.

Ways I will stay connected to presence:

  • Writing the word in my journal regularly
  • Asking, “What would presence look like right now?”
  • Letting it guide decisions both big and small
  • Allowing it to evolve as the year unfolds

This word is not a rule—it is an invitation.


An Invitation to Choose Your Own Word

Choosing a word for the year is a powerful mindfulness practice. It creates a compass rather than a checklist.

If you feel called, ask yourself:

  • What quality do I want to live with more deeply?
  • What do I need to return to this year?
  • What would support my becoming?

Then listen. The word often arrives quietly.


A Closing Reflection

Presence reminds me that my life is not waiting somewhere in the future.
It is happening now—
in this breath,
this body,
this moment.

And that is where I choose to meet 2026.

Gentle Detox Tea

I don’t know about you, but this holiday season felt a little extra indulgent for me. The cookies, the stuffing, and all the festive treats added up, and I’m feeling a bit fluffier than usual—ready for some gentle support.

I’ve never been one for extreme cleanses that involve skipping meals, harsh restrictions, or pushing my body into exhaustion just to “undo” a few joyful weeks. That approach doesn’t feel nourishing or sustainable to me.

Instead, I believe in a gentle reset—simple practices that support the body naturally. A daily tea I can sip mindfully, knowing I’m offering my body warmth, hydration, and care, feels like the perfect place to begin.


Gentle Daily Detox Tea

This tea is supportive, not forceful. It’s meant to be a comforting ritual you return to—not a quick fix.

Ingredients

  • 1 quart (4 cups) water
  • 1-inch piece fresh ginger, sliced
  • ½ lemon, sliced or juiced
  • 1 cinnamon stick or ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

Optional add-ins (choose 1–2):

  • Fresh mint leaves (cooling, digestive support)
  • Dandelion root tea bag (gentle liver support)
  • Fresh turmeric slice or pinch of ground turmeric

Instructions

  1. Bring the water to a gentle boil.
  2. Add ginger and cinnamon. Reduce heat and simmer for 10–15 minutes.
  3. Remove from heat and add lemon and any optional herbs.
  4. Steep for 5 more minutes.
  5. Strain and sip warm—or let cool and enjoy iced.

How to Use

  • Drink 1–2 cups in the morning or mid-afternoon
  • Sip slowly and mindfully
  • Can be made fresh daily or enjoyed chilled

A Gentle Reminder

This tea supports your body’s natural detox systems—your liver, kidneys, and digestion—without forcing or deprivation. True detox happens through hydration, nourishment, rest, and presence. Small, consistent acts of care often have the greatest impact.


How to Store Your Detox Tea

Short-term (best option):

  • Allow the tea to cool completely
  • Strain out herbs, citrus, and spices
  • Store in a glass jar or bottle with a lid
  • Refrigerate for up to 24 hours

Glass is ideal, as it doesn’t absorb flavors or react with lemon.

If You Want It Ready for the Morning

  • Brew the tea the night before
  • Store it in the fridge
  • Gently reheat on the stove in the morning (avoid microwaving if possible)

The Omen Days

I recently discovered that the days between Christmas and New Year’s—through January 6th, the Epiphany—are called the “Omen Days.” I had no idea there was an actual term for this period, yet it has felt sacred to me for nearly two decades. Once the mayhem of Christmas settles, these days offer a quiet, introspective space that can hold deep clarity—if we choose to listen.


Why They’re Called Omen Days

In Celtic tradition, this time is considered “time out of time.” Each day represents a month of the coming year, and observers watch for signs in nature, dreams, or daily experiences for guidance.

It’s not about predicting the future, but about noticing potential omens. Each of the twelve days—December 26 through January 6—corresponds to a month ahead:

  • December 26: January
  • December 27: February
  • …and so on

For me, these days are a time to quiet down, go inward, and ask questions—then truly listen.

For almost twenty years, I’ve chosen a single word as my intention for the coming year. This word becomes a thread woven into the tapestry of my life. Discovering it requires attentiveness—paying close attention to the subtle “omens” that appear around me.


How I Observe the Omen Days

When I seek my word or intention, I follow practices that encourage quiet awareness and receptivity:

  • Focus on Receiving: Gently notice without forcing predictions or outcomes.
  • Go Into Nature: Walk, observe, and pay attention to what draws you—a bird, the wind, a patch of earth.
  • Note Omens: Watch for recurring images, unusual signs, or strong feelings.
  • Record Your Findings: Keep a journal to capture reflections and insights.

Often, my word appears weeks before the Omen Days, and paying attention helps me become curious about the intentions and signs around me. Once Christmas passes, I enter fully into this sacred period of receiving messages.


Why This Matters

This practice isn’t about goals, resolutions, or achievement—it’s about becoming the most authentic, present version of yourself. By honoring these days, I set the tone for the coming year into alignment with awareness, intention, and quiet guidance.

I invite you to settle, listen, and observe during these sacred Omen Days. Notice the subtle guidance that is always present—and allow it to shape the path ahead.

Why Yin Yoga Is Perfect for Winter: Rest, Renewal, and Seasonal Wisdom

Winter is not a season of momentum. It is a season of conservation, reflection, and quiet transformation beneath the surface. In nature, growth slows, energy retreats inward, and rest becomes essential. Yin yoga mirrors this seasonal wisdom, offering a practice that honors stillness rather than resistance.

Unlike more active styles of yoga, yin is slow and deliberate. Poses are held for several minutes and are often supported, allowing the body to soften gradually instead of being pushed. During winter, when energy levels may feel lower and the nervous system more sensitive, this gentle approach becomes deeply nourishing rather than draining.

One of the most profound benefits of yin yoga in winter is its effect on the nervous system. Long, quiet holds encourage the body to shift out of constant alertness and into a state of rest and repair. Breath naturally deepens, muscles release unnecessary effort, and the mind begins to settle. In a season that can feel heavy or overstimulating, yin provides a sense of refuge.

Winter and Yin

Winter is traditionally associated with the Kidney and Bladder meridians, which relate to inner reserves, resilience, and wisdom. Yin yoga supports these energetic pathways by encouraging deep release along the spine, hips, and back body. Rather than expending energy, the practice helps preserve and replenish it, creating a feeling of steadiness and quiet strength.

Emotionally, winter yin offers space for reflection without pressure. This time of year often brings memories, endings, and a natural turning inward. Yin yoga does not rush these experiences or attempt to fix them. Instead, it creates a calm container where emotions can surface, soften, and pass without judgment. Through stillness, we learn to listen rather than react.

Yin and Rest

Yin yoga also reshapes our relationship with rest. In a culture that often treats rest as something to earn, winter yin reframes it as essential and intelligent. Stillness becomes a practice of trust — trusting the body’s timing, trusting the season, and trusting that slowing down is not falling behind.

Practicing yin in winter is an act of alignment. It is a choice to live in rhythm with nature rather than against it. Through support, patience, and quiet awareness, yin yoga honors the unseen work happening within us — the gathering of strength, clarity, and intention that will eventually support new growth when the light returns.

In this way, yin yoga becomes more than a physical practice. It becomes a seasonal ritual, a way of listening deeply, restoring gently, and allowing winter to teach us its quiet wisdom.

The Meaning of an Orange at Christmas: Symbolism, Tradition, and Simple Joy

For generations, receiving an orange at Christmas has carried a meaning far deeper than the fruit itself. Long before modern abundance, an orange was considered a rare and precious gift during winter. Its bright color and fresh scent stood in beautiful contrast to the cold, dark months of the year.

At its heart, the orange symbolizes the return of light. Winter is a season of rest, reflection, and inward focus, yet the orange reminds us that warmth and brightness still exist, even when the world feels quiet or heavy. Its vibrant color evokes the sun, offering a gentle message of hope during the darkest days of the year.

The Meaning Behind the Orange

An orange also represents abundance and gratitude. Historically, it was given as a token of care and generosity, reminding the receiver that they were thought of and valued. Even today, gifting an orange can symbolize appreciation for simple blessings rather than excess.

Emotionally, the orange carries joy and nostalgia. Its scent and sweetness often awaken memories of childhood, family traditions, and moments of shared warmth. Spiritually, it invites us to receive rather than strive, encouraging presence and contentment.

Simple Traditions

This simple tradition takes on even deeper meaning when shared in community. In one of the assisted living settings I teach adaptive yoga at, the residents have chosen to gift an orange alongside a small bag of candy to the staff who help them. For seniors and staff alike, this small gesture honors an ancient wisdom: that even the simplest gifts can carry warmth, joy, and care. Offering an orange to 60 dedicated staff members is not about extravagance, but about gratitude — a reminder that their work matters, their presence is seen, and light can be shared generously, even in the busiest or most challenging environments.

In a season that often feels rushed or overwhelming, the orange is a quiet reminder that joy can be simple, nourishment can be gentle, and light always finds its way back.

A Winter Solstice Ritual: The 12 Wishes Practice for the Year Ahead

The winter solstice marks the longest night of the year and the quiet turning point when the light begins to return. Across many traditions, this moment has been honored as a time to pause, reflect, and plant intentions for the year ahead. One simple yet deeply meaningful ritual is the practice of writing twelve wishes and releasing them slowly, night by night.

The Ritual

On the night of the winter solstice, create a calm and intentional space. Light a candle, take a few steady breaths, and reflect on the year that has passed. Without overthinking, write down twelve wishes for the coming year, one on each separate piece of paper. These wishes may be practical or spiritual, personal or expansive. Trust what arises naturally.

Once written, fold each paper and place them together in a small bowl, envelope, or jar. From this moment on, the ritual becomes an act of surrender. Each night following the solstice, for twelve nights, choose one folded paper at random and burn it without opening or reading it. As the paper turns to ash, allow yourself to release control over how that wish may unfold. You are offering it to the greater rhythm of life, trusting that what is meant for you will find its way.

Why the Ritual

Burning the wishes unseen symbolizes faith, patience, and humility. It acknowledges that not all intentions are meant to be managed or forced. Some are meant to be guided by timing, circumstance, and grace.

On January first, one folded paper will remain. This final wish is different. It is not burned. It is opened, read, and received. This remaining wish represents the intention that is placed directly in your care. It becomes your responsibility, your conscious focus, and your invitation to act. While the other wishes are released to the unknown, this one asks for your presence, effort, and commitment.

The Message for You

The 12 wishes ritual gently balances surrender and accountability. It reminds us that while much of life unfolds beyond our control, there is always one place where our attention, choices, and devotion matter deeply.

As the year begins, return to this final wish often. Let it guide your decisions, shape your habits, and anchor you when the path feels unclear. In doing so, you honor both the mystery of the unseen and the power of intentional living.