It’s a Practice
Chapter Fifteen - Showing Up
Lately, life has felt very full.
Not necessarily in a bad way. Full of beautiful things, meaningful things, and responsibilities that matter deeply to me. Between business, family life, health, community events, workshops, music, and all the little things that make up daily life, there has been a lot happening.
Many of you know me from the market stall, the clinic, workshops, retreats, or kīrtan gatherings. What many of you don't see is the life that exists behind all of that. The ordinary moments, the responsibilities, the challenges, the quiet evenings, and the constant balancing act that comes with trying to show up fully in so many areas of life.
I often reach the end of the day feeling torn. On one hand, I can see all the ways I have already shown up and offered throughout the day. On the other, my mind is already imagining new ideas, new projects, new workshops, new ways to share Ayurveda, and new ways to serve.
For most of my life, I lived almost entirely in ideas. The challenge wasn't coming up with them. The challenge was actually doing something with them. Now life seems to be teaching me the opposite lesson. I still have more ideas than I could ever possibly bring to life, but now I have to be selective. There is only so much time, only so much energy, and only so much of ourselves we can give.
People often ask where my drive comes from. The truth is that fire has always been there. It is the same fire that led me to Ayurveda, the same fire that inspired me to start a business, and the same fire that keeps me creating, learning, and sharing. For a long time, I believed more fire was the answer. Work harder. Create more. Offer more. Keep moving.
Lately, however, I have realised that while fire can build a beautiful life, it cannot sustain one on its own.
Even though I rest. Even though my daily practices are consistent. Even though I make time for the things that nourish me. I am tired. Not exhausted or burnt out, but aware that I am being invited into a different season. One with a little more softness, a little more stillness, and a little more space.
This weekend I was speaking on a panel and was asked what change I would most like to see in the way people approach health and wellbeing.
As always, I found myself reflecting on my own experience before answering.
My response was simple. I would love to see people embrace the stillness that simple routines bring. A moment of gratitude before getting out of bed. A few conscious breaths before eating a meal. Sitting quietly with a cup of tea. Pausing long enough to notice the beauty of being alive. Not because these things are extraordinary, but because they reconnect us to what truly matters.
I write these letters on the day they are sent. I rarely plan them in advance. I simply sit down and write whatever feels true in that moment.
Today, if I'm honest, I didn't feel like writing.
After a weekend of connection, sharing, and gathering, I took a day of rest. This evening, after teaching a sound class, all I really wanted to do was sit on the couch and scroll for a while. A thought crossed my mind that nobody would notice if the email arrived a day late. Maybe nobody reads them anyway.
But then I realised something.
Showing up was never really about whether people notice.
Showing up is a practice.
It is choosing, again and again, to honour what matters. Little by little. Piece by piece. Day by day. Not because we always feel inspired or motivated, but because the small things shape who we become.
So instead of scrolling, I sat down to write.
And as always seems to happen, I feel better for it.
I have always loved sharing my process, not because I have the answers, but because I am walking the path too. Learning, forgetting, remembering, and beginning again.
My hope is that somewhere within these words, you are reminded that your own small acts of showing up matter. For your family. For your community. For those you love. But most importantly, for yourself.
Sending my love, always.
ॐ
