I know that after a retreat, I should be paying attention to my dreams. They often seem to carry the teachings forward in a way my waking mind cannot. After this past retreat in Italy, I had a number of beautiful dreams, but one in particular has stayed with me, and I'd like to share it.
In the dream, my younger sister and I had returned to the apartment where I grew up. As  was usual, the place was a mess. My first reaction was disappointment and annoyance.

I found a large cardboard box and began cleaning the kitchen. I started filling it with things to throw away. As I cleaned, I noticed something surprising.

It wasn't that bad.

The stuff around me was just objects.

Over and over in the dream, one simple phrase came to me:
"It's simple."

The words stayed with me when I woke up, and even now they are still here.

It's simple.

Just do it.

As I kept cleaning, I realized I didn't need to get emotional about the mess. I simply needed to throw things away or put them where they belonged.

My mood changed.
My frustration changed.
My entire relationship to the situation changed.

That message has stayed with me.

Whenever I come home from a retreat or have a deeply meaningful experience, I always wonder, What will remain? What teaching will continue to live inside me?

For me, this was a big one.

It's simple.

Whatever needs to be done, simply begin.

Without adding stories or emotional weight to every task, life becomes surprisingly lighter.
That lesson proved itself almost immediately when I returned home to a house that needed far more attention than I had expected—thanks to both the dog and my son. There were messes to clean, weeds that had taken over the garden, and a long list of tasks waiting for me.

Normally, I might have felt overwhelmed.
Instead, I remembered the dream.

It's simple.

Just start.

Everything was finished more quickly than I imagined.

Today, facing another full schedule, I find myself returning to that same teaching. Do what is in front of you. Whatever gets done, gets done. Whatever doesn't, surrender it.
Trust that what was completed is exactly what was meant to be completed.

After all, "getting it done" is never just up to us. There are other people involved, other circumstances, and other unseen forces that either support or delay what unfolds. We are not doing life alone.

Our job is to show up wholeheartedly.
The rest is not entirely ours to control.

When we surrender to that reality, we may not accomplish more, but we almost always suffer less.

As I write this, I am getting ready to return to the USA. It feels like the right time. As much as I have loved "living" here in Portugal for the past month, my heart is beginning to pull me home.
I miss the studio and the store. I miss all of you. I miss my dog, my garden, and—believe it or not—I even miss scouring powder! And, if I'm being completely honest, I miss my clothing dryer (especially with my adorable little dryer balls).

This month has been a gift. I've had the opportunity to slow down, settle into a different rhythm of life, and meet so many wonderful people. I am especially grateful to everyone who greeted me with kindness and patience, especially when I needed to stumble through my very limited Portuguese. Every conversation, every smile, and every shared moment reminded me that human connection often speaks louder than words.

I've been "practicing" yoga in one form or another for more than 35 years. When we say we are practicing something, it implies—at least to me—that we are never really finished. There is always more to know, more to learn, more to experience. In many ways, we're all practicing life.
Before coming to Portugal, I thought my Portuguese had improved so much since my last visit. It turns out...I was mostly wrong. Now that I had to use it on the streets, I can't even imagine how long I'll have to practice before I can hold a real conversation without  gestering with my hands around or relying on Google Translate.

That's exactly how I feel about yoga.

Exactly how long will I have to practice before I can meet life with complete steadiness? Before I don't freeze, panic, or lose my footing when things don't go according to plan? It feels like that practice might take a very, very long time.

But then I remembered...

I could partially understand the flight attendant on the plane when she spoke in Portugues. I could follow much of what the yoga teacher was saying when I was in class. I could participate in simple conversations at restaurants. None of it was perfect, but it was undeniably more than I could do before.

The same is true off the mat.

I can roll with some of life's punches. I can often stay grounded when things become chaotic. I can be discerning—especially if I've had breakfast. (Some spiritual truths are surprisingly practical.)

These are all practices. Everything we do in life is a practice. They are never finished.

I'll probably never be as fluent in Portuguese as I'd like to be. I'll probably never be as calm and centered as I'd like to be when everything around me is falling apart. But am I better than I was before I started to practice?

I think the answer is yes.

And that's enough to give me the encouragement to keep showing up, to keep practicing, and to keep learning.

Even motherhood! Just when I thought I might finally be getting the hang of it, my children went ahead and grew up. Now that they are adults, being a mother has changed, and so too has the practice. 
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Maybe that's the beauty of practice. There is no finish line, no graduation day where we've mastered whatever we were practicing. There is only the invitation to return, again and again, with curiosity, humility, and a willingness to begin, or continue, exactly where we are.
I'll see you back at the studio soon. I can't wait to continue practicing together.

You may have noticed it's been a while since I've written. I kept thinking I should wait until I had some profound story to tell, some earth-shattering insight to share, or at least a spectacular photo to post.

As it turns out, I have all of those.

But they're not what I want to write about.

Instead, I want to write about something much quieter.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have had this much time away. Like many Americans who are still working, I've never taken such a long stretch of uninterrupted time off. During my retreat in Italy, I met people from all over Europe who spoke casually about their mandatory five-, six-, even eight-week vacations. One man from the Netherlands told me that by law he must take three consecutive weeks off every summer, and then he can use the remaining five weeks however he wishes.

Can you imagine?

For years I've envied that idea. Now I have a chance to look and see what so much "off time" give. Primarily, it has afforded me the opportunity to integrate the work and practices done during the retreat, this is something I never had the chance to do before.

Usually, I return home from a retreat and jump immediately back into teaching, running the studio, and catching up on everything I missed. This time has been different. I've had the opportunity to let the practices continue unfolding instead of packing them away like souvenirs. Sitting by the ocean, writing, meditating, reading, and simply allowing things to integrate has been a gift beyond measure. I won't go into all the details because much of it only makes sense within the experience itself, but I'll simply say that even my dreams have been participating in the process.

Perhaps the biggest thing that is showing up is seeing my own karmic patterns more clearly.
It's so easy to believe that if only this situation changed, that person behaved differently, the weather improved, Mercury stopped doing whatever Mercury is supposedly doing, then life would be easier.  I am good at playing the "blame game" when it comes to not having enough time/space/energy to do what I want to.  (I don't believe I am alone in that, right?)
Removing myself from my familiar routines, language, culture, and responsibilities has shown me something else. The structures of resistance and acceptance travel with us. They aren't always dependent on our surroundings.

We have plenty of sayings that point to this truth:
"Wherever you go, there you are."
"The grass isn't always greener on the other side."
"You can't run away from yourself."

We nod our heads because they sound wise.

But experiencing their truth is something entirely different.

Many years ago, a friend mentioned to me that he felt vacations are really vacations from ourselves. At the time I thought it was an interesting idea. Only now, after nearly a month away do I think I finally understand what he meant.

Of course, the "ourselves" in that above sentence has different meanings to different people, but for me its about removing the karmic structures from their usual habitat and seeing how they exist outside of their comfortable and established rhythms. It means stepping outside the environment where our habitual patterns are most comfortable. It's like taking a plant out of its familiar pot. Suddenly you can see the roots.

These past ten days, after the retreat ended and after friends had gone home, have been especially precious. For the first time in nearly a month I've settled into a simple rhythm of practice, writing, reading, walking, and listening. Ironically, my morning Portuguese lessons have suffered a bit. It turns out speaking with people on the street isn't quite the substitute I hoped it would be.  (It does help me realize how little I know, and that is always a good motivator!)
Now I'm curious.

What happens when I return home? Will those familiar karmic grooves reclaim their comfortable seats on the proverbial couch? Or has enough shifted that new possibilities will emerge?
Time will tell.

My teacher often reminded us that the only bad karma is the karma that keeps you asleep. Good karma is whatever helps wake you up.

The word karma simply means action. It isn't cosmic reward and punishment, as we often use it in everyday conversation. It is the actions we repeatedly take—the habits, tendencies, reactions, and choices that shape our experience. (More to come on that in the upcoming Yoga Sutras study course.)

Part of my own karma is creating opportunities for practice—classes, workshops, retreats, and conversations that nourish the actions (karmas) that awaken us while gently revealing the ones that keep us stuck.

It's a bit like tending a garden.

Even weeds require an action. Ignoring them is an action. Pulling them is an action. Planting something new is an action. A garden doesn't become beautiful by accident; it responds to what we consistently cultivate.

Of course, first we have to know which plants are the ones we intended to grow.
I'll leave you with one final thought, this one courtesy of my son. Years ago, after I asked him to help me weed the garden, and he said,

"It's only a weed if it's growing where you don't want it."

I am sure this bit of wisdom mostly came about because he didn't want to help me weed the garden, so he became quite happy with where the weeds were growing. 
Maybe that's true of our habits as well.
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I look forward to seeing you all soon. Some of the workshops below are ready with details, some will be coming soon.  I hope some of these offerings will help you cultivate the actions that help wake you up.