Turning the Wheel, Slowly
As this year comes to a close, I’ve been thinking less about what I accomplished and more about what I noticed. The way the light shifted through the windows as the seasons changed. The things I reached for again and again without planning to. The moments when my practice felt close and familiar, and the moments when it quietly stepped back while I handled the work of being human. For a long time, I thought growth meant consistency in the obvious ways. Daily rituals. Perfect habits. A clear sense of direction. This year taught me something gentler. It taught me that growth often happens when I stop trying to force it. There were weeks when I felt deeply connected to my practice, and others when it sat quietly in the background. I used to judge myself for that. Now I see it as rhythm. Nothing in nature blooms constantly. Rest is part of the cycle, not a failure of it. I’m learning to pay attention instead of chasing. To listen to my body, my home, the land around me. To trust...