sensing savoring
Another yoga training weekend in the books. Honestly, this program’s focus on mindful self-compassion has been a wild ride for me. Turns out, sitting with kindness toward myself doesn’t come naturally. Who knew? Today’s practice was a body scan—basically, telling every part of yourself “Hey, you’re okay”—followed by a walking meditation where we were supposed to pause and notice something beautiful.
Yeah, right. My first instinct? Keep moving. Always moving. Always reaching for the next thing before I’ve even fully appreciated the last. So, when it came time for my 30 minutes of mindful noticing, I did what any expert avoider of stillness would do: I started chores.
Watering the tomatoes, I caught a rainbow in the spray, refracted through the sun. My heart did a little softening pirouette. I actually let my gaze linger. The birds, of course, needed fresh water in their bath—brutal heat today, no excuses. So I shifted my attention outward. More rainbows. More light. Tiny miracles that somehow made the chores feel like practice.
Then came the moment that really got me. Turning off the hose, I let my hand rest under the spigot, catching the last few trickling drops. They ran down my fingers, cool and deliberate, like tiny liquid reminders that the world keeps moving even when I’m trying to pause. And I stayed there. No rushing. No next. Just water, just me, just this moment.
Eventually, the hammock called. A place I love but haven’t given myself time for in way too long. So I laid there, swinging slightly in the breeze, the fabric holding me in a kind of lazy trust. No agenda. No to-do list. Just letting gravity do its thing and noticing how it feels to be alive and, occasionally, maybe even a little worthy of kindness.
Self-compassion isn’t a concept—it’s a practice. A choice. A stubborn refusal to run away from yourself. And sometimes, it comes disguised as a rainbow in your tomato water, a bird splashing happily in their bath, or the swing of a hammock carrying all your distractions away for just a few minutes.
More rainbows. More light. More noticing
