Breathing Through Resistance: A Meditation Journey

My friend and I created the School of Illumination, beginning with a six-month foundation to prepare participants for deep shadow work. The advanced training, Shadow Song: A Journey Into Illumination, invites students to dig deep, study themselves, and confront the shadow.

As we guide participants through the next 12 months, I’ve decided to journey alongside them. I’m choosing to put myself first, engage fully in the coursework, and once again face my own shadow. It’s important to me to become the best version of myself I can be.

The work includes daily meditation, journal prompts, and homework activities between our monthly classes. Our first journal prompt this month focused on resistance. As I reflected, I noticed something: I’ve been resisting sitting still to meditate each day.

Throughout my life, I’ve had a steady meditation practice — sometimes even twice a day — yet I feel resistance to simply being still and quiet. I teach walking meditation, and the Kundalini yoga I love combines chanting and movement with meditation, but even these practices have fallen away lately. Hmm… what is this about?

As I prepared to meditate today, I caught myself wanting to blow my nose, clean my ears, brush my hair. Was I distracting myself with little tasks to avoid the stillness, or were these small acts part of settling into my body before I got quiet?

While journaling about this resistance, I asked my wise higher self for guidance. I was reminded of a tool we shared with our students: box breath. This simple pattern — inhale for a count of five, hold for five, exhale for five, hold out for five, then repeat — can help calm the mind and body. I decided to use box breathing as I meditated today. It worked.

At first, I kept my attention occupied by counting, breathing, and holding. As my meditation deepened, I lengthened the counts to ten, drawing my breath more fully into my body. A calm, slow rhythm emerged.

Eventually, I stopped counting. My breath continued in the same pattern, but my awareness opened to the world around me: the rustling of leaves, a distant dog barking, birds chirping, the steady song of insects. The wind moved through the trees like the breathing of the earth. Occasionally, wind chimes sang, and I felt part of it all.

I’m grateful I worked through my resistance and allowed myself this moment of connection. I’m grateful for the peace I felt afterward, and for showing up for myself despite hesitation. Will this completely dissolve my resistance? I don’t know — but I’ve found a tool to help me meet it with curiosity and move forward.

Colors on Water: A Meditation in Motion

Last November, I traveled to Costa Rica for a yoga retreat. We practiced a lot of yoga. We meditated, connected in community, ate incredible vegetarian meals, and attended enriching classes.

One of my favorite questions to ask people during an event or vacation is:
“Tell me about your favorite moment so far…”
It’s such a beautiful way to reflect on an experience. It also helps you learn what truly moves your friends and family—what they value most.

Today, I want to share one of my favorite moments from this retreat.

Our instructor, Tommy, guided us into a profound meditation. When it ended, we quietly rose and walked down to the ocean, still in silence. We sat together on the sand, watching the day slip away into the Pacific. Then, as the sun neared the horizon, we waded into the ocean—still meditating—as the sunset painted the world around us.

There were about 80 of us, and the scene reminded me of the 1998 film City of Angels, where angels gather at the coast in reverent silence. That’s exactly how it felt—silent, yet deeply connected in community.

I’ve witnessed countless coastal sunrises and sunsets—on cruise ships, sandy beaches, and balconies—but never from within the water itself. That day was different. Being fully present in meditation made it extraordinary. The push and pull of the waves against my body anchored me in the moment. The only sounds were the rhythm of the ocean and the occasional call of a bird. I was surrounded by others, yet I felt completely alone—in the best way.

The sky bloomed with vivid color, spilling onto the few clouds drifting above. The waves became dark silhouettes edged with glowing orange and purple light. Countless black pyramids rose and fell before me, their sides shimmering with the last fire of the day. It was breathtaking—alive and electric with beauty.

At 52, I was amazed to discover a whole new perspective on something so familiar. That sunset, that ocean, that stillness—it shifted something in me.

I am profoundly grateful for this experience, for the community that shared it with me, for the family and friends who encouraged me to put myself first and take this journey, and for the life that continues to gift me these small miracles.

What I Want to Remember

As the wind blows away the dust of who I have been, what are the parts of my life I want to remember?

I want to remember who I am when I walk in nature. I want to feel the wind blowing through my hair, the sun warming my skin, and the grass beneath my feet. I want to remember how the sounds and scents of the natural world make me feel connected, whole, and at home. I want to hold on to the beauty I’ve witnessed—the vivid color of the sky, a single leaf, an eagle soaring overhead, the remarkable shapes of mushrooms growing on a fallen tree. These sights fill me with awe.

I want to remember the love I carry for the people who have shared this life with me. I want to remember to forgive—both myself and others—because life is messy. We are all stumbling through as best we can. I want to remember that it is okay to set boundaries and love people from afar. I want to show up each day with love, in spite of my flaws or theirs. I want to remember that everything happens for a reason, even when the reason is unclear. My responsibility is my own healing. It is not my job to heal others or to decide if they need healing—that is their journey.

I want to remember the love of my grandparents, and the love I hold for my grandchildren. Why does the separation of a generation seem to intensify relationships? My bond with my grandchildren feels so different from what I had with my children—not better, not purer, just different. The same is true of the love I felt from my grandparents; so very different from my parents. Now, as I walk this path without any grandparents in physical form and step fully into that role myself, I hope that long after I am gone, my grandchildren will feel my love—helping, guiding, and supporting them in ways I cannot do today.

Do I want to remember my journey through this lifetime? Are the occurrences and experiences important to my story? Every page I have turned along this path has shaped me, drawing me closer to the truest version of myself. I understand who I am today in a way I never did in childhood, or in my twenties, thirties, or even forties. The missteps and stumbles, the masks and roles, the passions and goals—all of these have been essential to discovering Stacy.When faced with the question, “What do I want to remember?” I think the answer is simple:
I want to remember who I am.

A Letter from Love

The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad is full of enticing journal prompts to help us as journalers, as people, as fellow travelers in life, to delve more deeply into ourselves. This morning as I flipped through the book the prompt asked me to write a letter from Love.

“Dear Love, What would you have me know today?”

Dear beloved one,

As the sun rises into the sky over your world shining brightly on everything, I am there. Tonight as the sun sets bathing the world into a dusky quilt of color, I am there. As the sliver of the moon hangs in the dark night sky, I am there too. There have been times in your life where you did not embrace me, maybe you even doubted if I was real. I have always been here. I have been cheering you on. Celebrating your successes and compassionately holding you in the times you felt failure.

I want you to know that even in those times when everything felt like it was falling apart, it was actually falling together. Those times that felt so dark and deep, when you felt the inky darkness of despair was all around you, those were times to encourage you to take the next step up. These were times for you to find your will to move beyond your experience into the beauty of your true self.

I see you dear one, as the beautiful bright soul that you are. I love you with all that I am. I wrap and swirl all around you and within you. I know you more than you even know yourself. You allow your value to be defined by the thoughts and deeds of others. You forget that you are more than you appear. You allow your goals to be set by the expectations that have been placed upon you by the well meaning, who confuse love with safety. I see you, as I have always seen you.

You burn brightly, filled with the stuff of stars. Take a deep breath child and feel me. Pause and allow yourself to be wrapped within me, eternal love. You are beautiful. The parts of you you think of as flaws are only part of the unique fabric of who you are. There are no flaws. When I gaze upon you I see you as you cannot see yourself. I see the perfection of the wholeness of you.

I would like for you to fully and deeply love yourself, but I see that you may not be ready for the fullness of this just yet. In those times when you feel alone, or unworthy of love; call to me. I am here loving you even when you cannot find me within yourself or others. I am here to wrap you in my warm embrace. I will give you a safe nest to retreat to for just a little while. It only takes a moment, a breath, to find me. Take that deep breath in and feel me, Love, surrounding you and all that you are. Feel me loving all of you. You are worthy and deserving of the fullness of my unconditional love and dedication.

In deepest devotion,

Love

Embracing Change: The Call to Growth

There are times in our lives when we feel something calling. We see the signs that there is a bigger potential waiting for us. We can hear opportunity or maybe even fate, knocking at our door. And despite the amazing potentials that these times offer us, we carry on as if nothing spectacular is happening. We carry on with blinders and ear plugs muffling the brilliance that is there for us. What might our life look like if we boldly opened the door at these times? How might everything change?

Change in and of itself can be scary and uncomfortable. As people we like the comfort of that status quo, even when that is not great. Lisa Nichols said, “There is no growth without discomfort”. These words are so true. It is not the times in our lives when we sit comfortably in our chair watching or reading the type of thing we have always read when we have experienced growth. It is the time when life knocks us on our ass. That is when we had no choice but to stand up and say, “I want something different”. I do not want to carry on with the same old same old. I am not going to be a passenger in my life any longer.

I find myself at such a crossroads. I hear the call of the future. It is telling me nothing is ever going to be the same. I am too young to retire, but too old to continue to climb the career ladders. My responsibilities have shifted. Having adult children and grandchildren has a certain freedom to it. I am blessed with a husband who walks boldly and protectively by my side. I am allowed, at this time in my life, to be more “me”, than I have ever been before. I get to explore, play, and live in a way that helps me to discover what has been laying dormant, nestled at the base of my spine, waiting to rise up like the kundalini energy. The time has come for me to not only notice the call of something but to boldly fling open the door and welcome the coming changes.