Reflections

A simple practice to open a sitting — no design, no destination. Begin the session by asking yourself, silently, one question: “How is my mind right now?” Don't think about it. Don't investigate it. Just let an answer arrive — calm, or busy. Whichever comes first is the right one. If the answer is busy, take a few rounds of deep, deliberate breathing. Then ask the question again. If the answer is calm, let the breath be natural — soft, unshaped. Then ask the questio

Sometimes, my work is not on the mat. It is standing at an ironing board, in the heat, sorting sheets and towels that came from the kitchen or the rooms. I teach yoga, meditation, and share something of the Buddhist path at the wellness centre where I work. But part of my role is also housekeeping — and ironing, in particular, is a task most people would rather avoid. I don’t mind it. I have come to feel, quietly, like a kind of hidden yogi while I do it — though I say this c

There is a practice I teach that has no name. I did not learn it from a book, a teacher, or a tradition. It arrived through intuition, quietly, the way we naturally do when we finally have a moment to pause and listen. It is simple enough to describe in one sentence: sit, and count silently from 1 to 8, again and again, trying your best to let each number land exactly on each passing second of an actual clock. Time, itself. That is all. And yet, for many who have sat with me

When people hear the word practice, they often think of a particular activity. A yoga practice. A meditation practice. A breathing practice. Something we set aside time to do before returning to our everyday lives. Over the years, my understanding has gradually changed. I no longer see practice as a collection of separate techniques. Instead, I have come to see it as a way of relating to life itself. Movement, breath, meditation, sleep, dreams, conversation, and even the ordi