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.

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.

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.

Living with Uncertainty

Living with Uncertainty: Navigating the Unknown with Mindfulness

Uncertainty has been a constant companion in my life lately. On a personal level, my journey with my hip—multiple surgeries, setbacks, and unknowns—has tested my patience and resilience in ways I never expected. Beyond my own experience, the world around us seems equally uncertain. From global challenges to personal struggles, we are all living in a space where certainty feels out of reach.

Setting intentions is like planting seeds in the garden of our hearts—each thought, belief, and action nurturing the growth of something beautiful. Just as a seed needs sunlight, water, and care to flourish, our intentions require patience, faith, and gratitude to take root and bloom.

For me, this season is about growing faith over uncertainty, trusting that even in the unknown, something meaningful is unfolding. I choose to fertilize this seed with gratitude, focusing on what is present rather than what is missing, and allowing each small step forward to strengthen my roots. With time, love, and consistency, these intentions will blossom into something greater than I ever imagined.

In addition to intentions, how else do we cope when the ground beneath us feels unsteady?

1. Acknowledging the Uncertainty

For a long time, I resisted uncertainty, desperately wanting answers and a clear path forward. But I’ve learned that fighting the unknown only creates more stress. Instead, acknowledging it—saying, This is hard. I don’t know what comes next, and that’s okay—allows me to soften into the moment.

2. Grounding in the Present Moment

Mindfulness has been my anchor. When my mind races with “what-ifs,” I come back to my breath, to the feeling of my feet on the ground, to the smallest sensations that remind me this moment is manageable. Even when the future is unclear, I can still find moments of peace in the now. I also find daily gratitude is the soothing balm for the painful uncertainty.

3. Finding Stability in Rituals

In a world that feels uncertain, small rituals create a sense of stability. My morning tea, my mindful movement (even if it’s limited), my evening gratitude practice—these simple things remind me that I still have control over my mindset and how I show up for each day. As I said a few days ago, a daily routine or ritual is key to stability.

4. Trusting the Process

Healing—whether physical, emotional, or collective—takes time. I don’t have all the answers about my hip or where this path is leading me. But I trust that I am moving forward, even when I can’t see the destination. The same is true for the world around us. Even in chaos, change is happening, and growth is unfolding.

5. Leaning on Community

Uncertainty can feel isolating, but we are not meant to navigate it alone. Talking about it, sharing the struggle, and finding connection reminds us that we are in this together. Whether it’s through a message, a mindful conversation, or just knowing someone else understands, community is a powerful antidote to fear.

Final Thoughts

Uncertainty is uncomfortable, but it doesn’t have to be paralyzing. By grounding ourselves in the present, creating small moments of stability, and trusting that clarity will come in its own time, we can move through uncertainty with more ease and grace.

If you’re navigating uncertainty in your own life, know that you’re not alone. How do you find peace in the unknown? Let’s start a conversation in the comments. 

If you love my content and want more tools for mindfulness & movement, check out my digital products on Buy Me a Coffee! Your support helps me continue creating. 

Winter Solstice

Breathe.

A day to pause.

The word “solstice,” in Latin, means sun standing still, so in a sense, we could say the soul stands still on the solstice—maybe even long enough for you to catch a glimpse of it, as some legends say you can at this divine time of year. The darkest night contains the most magnetic power, too; this is a time to draw forth what you want, to incubate your best intentions.

As you enjoy the longest night and the brightest lights of the season, please remember this: your soul is the light of the world. You carry the light within you. You shine.

We cannot change the fact that life has heartbreaking challenges any more than we can change that winter has storms. Viktor Frankl wrote in his quintessential book, Man’s Search for Meaning, “When we are no longer able to change a situation we are challenged to change ourselves.”

When we or someone we love are in a storm, try to recognize the good alongside the bad, and find your inner resilience.

Breathe.

Light always returns. Light is always there.