It has been a challenge this year for so many to see and feel the blessings that still surround us. Yet even in the midst of uncertainty, I find myself filled with enthusiasm for the beautiful and unexpected ways joy continues to arise—quietly, softly, and often when I need it most.
Lately, I’ve discovered a profound appreciation for the smallest moments. I am grateful for slowing down, for sitting quietly in the dark this morning, for my crazy dog waking me again at 4:45 AM—what once felt like an irritation now feels like a tender reminder that I am loved and needed. I am grateful for the invisible angels who care for the yoga center, and for the teachers who arrive with passion and a generous dedication to sharing their gifts. I am deeply grateful for you, the students whose steady presence and open hearts keep this sacred space alive with grace. And for the tiny yellow rose left on my desk, whispering that I am held. These simple gestures remind me that love is threaded everywhere.
This year has also revealed the strength of our community in ways that move me deeply. The joy that traveling brings, the way our connections expand beyond these walls, the shared stories of hardship that soften when held together in compassion. The generosity of students who bring bags of food for those in need. The grace of a teacher who chose to donate her salary to support others. The kindness of students driving a teacher to PT during her rehab. The blessing of tears and laughter as we face the truths of aging—remembering that while the body is tender, the soul remains mighty.
Through it all, our practice becomes more refined, more honest, more intimate. I am humbled by the transformation that continues to unfold within my own body and within this community I love.
As I sit and reflect on this year, my heart spills over with compassion for those moving through profound loss—the homes destroyed in the LA fire, the jobs lost, the deaths mourned, the quiet griefs carried in so many hearts. My intention is to love more, to soften my protective layers, and to meet others heart to heart. I am deeply moved by the love humanity is offering this holiday season, even in the midst of so much pain.
Now, more than ever, we are called to turn on our inner light—to shine for those standing in the dark.
For all of this, I am blessed, and I say thank you.
This holiday, may we hug more, invite a friend to tea, or write a simple note of gratitude. And may we also offer ourselves the gift of pause. Sit quietly. Let yourself feel what is real. Loving is not harming, but neither is it pain-free. Accept all of yourself—especially the parts that feel hard to love. Feel the grief and sadness, and breathe into your heart. Let the quiet enthusiasm of joy find its place within you again.
Joy is not outside of us—it is an inner journey. We must fill our own vessels with wonder and awe during this auspicious time. Each breath is a blessing, and when we feel this grace, we can send it into the world.
All of this goes beyond intellect. It is the deeper knowing that steadies, grounds, and supports us—a “something other” that reveals itself in the courage of those doing the hard things. Yes, we may be tired and overwhelmed, but still we can choose to go inward, to transform the inner fire into light. Light your inner pilot light and let it shine outward through the glow of your smile.
We can celebrate these moments together and welcome one another into deeper love.
And it all begins by listening, by being still in the dark.
In the dark, we water the roots of abundance—the quiet prosperity of love.
Let joy be revealed in your own heart.
Happy Thanksgiving.
