There Is a Season for Everything

In life, everything seems to ebb and flow — like the waves of the ocean, or the steady movement of the sun and moon.

There are moments when I feel deeply rooted in my spirituality, when everything feels easier to navigate. Decisions come with more clarity. Pain feels more spacious. I remember how to breathe.

And then, inevitably, I drift.

Sometimes it happens suddenly — like a rushing river. One moment I feel grounded, and the next I’m swept back into the world of must-dos, what-ifs, and the quiet ache of seeing so much pain around me.

Other times, it’s much slower. A gentle pull I don’t even notice at first. I move a little farther from my practices, a little farther from myself, until one day I look up and realize I’m far out in the ocean — and swimming back feels impossible.

But the beauty of ebb and flow is this:
return is always part of the movement.

Even when we drift, we are not lost.

Effort Is Never Wasted

There’s a line from the Bhagavad Gita that has stayed with me for years:

“On this path, effort never goes to waste, and there is no failure.
Even a little effort toward spiritual awareness protects you from the greatest fear.” (2:40)

I wish I could tell you exactly what that “greatest fear” is.

But I can’t — and I won’t pretend I can.

Fear is deeply personal. And despite reading the Gita many times, I still feel like a student here. I haven’t found a teacher who could answer that question for me — and I’m not sure that’s how it’s meant to be answered anyway.

Maybe the fear changes as we do.
Maybe we’re meant to meet it slowly, honestly, in our own time.

What I do know is this: even when I step away from my practice — even when I forget — the effort I’ve made before still holds me. Something remembers, even when I don’t.

The Myth of Falling Off the Path

Many of us carry a quiet belief that if we stop practicing — stop meditating, journaling, reflecting — we’ve somehow failed.

That we’ve “fallen off the path.”

But what if there is no falling off?

What if the path includes wandering?
What if forgetting is part of remembering?

Yoga philosophy reminds us that life doesn’t move in straight lines. It moves in cycles. In seasons. In tides.

There is a time for effort.
And a time for rest.

A time for clarity.
And a time for confusion.

A time for deep spiritual connection.
And a time for simply surviving the day.

None of these seasons cancel out the others.

Letting Each Season Belong

So much of our suffering comes not from what we’re experiencing — but from believing we should be somewhere else.

I should be happier by now.
I should be more grateful.
I should be past this.

But healing doesn’t ask us to skip ahead.
It asks us to stay present.

This is where the practice of Aparigraha, or non-grasping, gently enters. It teaches us to loosen our grip — not just on possessions, but on expectations.

To stop clinging to one version of ourselves.
To stop resisting the season we’re in.

Sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is let this moment be what it is.

Returning, Again and Again

If you’re reading this and feeling far away — from your practice, from your center, from yourself — I want you to know this:

You haven’t failed.
You haven’t lost anything.
You haven’t wasted the effort you’ve already made.

Even now, something within you remembers the way back.

And returning doesn’t have to be dramatic.

It can be as simple as one deep breath.
One honest pause.
One moment of kindness toward yourself.

A Gentle Reflection

Instead of asking “How do I get back to where I was?”
Try asking:

What does this season need from me right now?

Not what looks good.
Not what you should be doing.
But what is actually supportive — today.

If you’re feeling a little untethered—or simply craving a quiet place to land—I host a free weekly meditation and gentle grounding class. You’re welcome to join exactly as you are, no preparation needed.