to nourish & tend the soil

Tough times used to feel like evidence of failure, proof that I had done something wrong. Over time, I’ve begun to see life differently. Life happens, and my job isn’t to punish myself but to love myself through it. That love isn’t always easy. It shows up in quiet ways, in the small decisions to pause, to notice, to honor the shifts that come with living fully.

Matrescence is one of those shifts. A word I only recently learned, it names the full transition into motherhood—body, hormones, emotions, social life. It’s a process that stretches months, years, even a lifetime. Old routines disappear. Identity bends in ways that feel both thrilling and disorienting. Support appears in forms I didn’t know to look for, and learning to be truly seen becomes its own ongoing practice.

This journey—through motherhood, through self-work, through life—is one of softening. Softening into my body, my mind, my relationships. Softening into the parts of myself I often rush past. Loving myself through it all isn’t a one-time act. It’s a practice of attention, patience, and gentle persistence. Sitting with myself, even in the moments I’d rather skip, is how I show up more fully for the people I love.

That’s where bhakti enters. Devotion, practice, presence. The teachings remind me that the work of yoga doesn’t stay on the mat—it ripples outward. Breath, movement, stillness, awareness, noticing—these small acts of presence carry meaning far beyond the physical practice. Tantra reminds me that everything arises from the same sacred source, and that source lives within me if I notice it long enough.

This practice is ongoing. Challenges appear, growth appears, discomfort appears. So does trust, slowly and quietly, underneath it all. The work of the self, through the self, to the self is never finished. It’s messy. It’s soft. It’s expansive. And through it all, I trust that the journey—like motherhood, like yoga, like life itself—is exactly what it’s supposed to be.