As my family and I are preparing to move, this week is filled with goodbyes, hugs, tears accompanied by smiles and promises, and lots and lots of lasts.
The gravity of our move smacks me across the face every time I have a moment to breathe and notice.
I must admit, I underestimated how difficult this move would be on my heart.
During these constantly shifting moments, I'm especially grateful for my adventurous family whom I call home, the outpouring support and love from everyone, and the grounding self-practice of yoga.
Many moments on the mat spent on breathing, noticing, and doing it all over again serve us as tools during moments like these. Hectic, shifting, transitioning, uncertain, and absolutely discombobulating.
So I roll out my mat, place my palms firmly on the ground, and press back into a downward facing dog. I feel the fingers waking up, spine aligning, belly pulling into the spine, hips pushing up and back, hamstrings and the back of legs slowly opening, neck loosening, jaw letting go and, most importantly, my breath finding itself and the slow exhalation settling into my heart telling me everything is alright.
Even if the ground moves underneath me and even if the world shifts all around me, when I find my breath, I am utterly and completely grounded.