Living Through the Storm

“Healing begins where the wound was made.” ~ Alice Walker

In my area lately, there have been quite a few storms. Loud and powerful, they roll in with force, unyielding and unapologetic. They demand to be seen, heard, and felt. Recently, I found myself in the middle of a similar storm, an internal one. It came on strong and left me face-to-face with fear, anger, disappointment, and overwhelm. As I navigated the energy and emotions, I was deeply grateful for all that I’ve learned about yoga as a tool for balance. Not because it provides a cushion from challenge or shields me from difficulty, but because it gives me the tools to grow through it, not just get through it. 

The energy I felt at the height of the situation was suffocating. I tend to process things quietly, rarely giving voice to what’s bothering me because I fear it will give the situation more power. But this time was different. It couldn’t be contained, and I couldn’t offer a surface answer for why my energy felt off. I needed to speak, not for sympathy or advice, but because trying to hold it in had worn me out. I needed to be heard by someone safe. Even though I tried to remind myself that, after two decades in the healing arts, I shouldn't be affected by what felt like “small” stuff, I let that go and gave myself space to be human. I complained, cried a little, and raised my voice in frustration. 

The situation that brought on the imbalance of energy and emotions gave me a chance to speak clearly about my boundaries, my expectations, and the ways I needed to be supported. It was freeing to be in what I call an "unhealed" moment, as old pain and a book I thought I had taken out of print came resurfaced.

Having shared as much as I needed, I took the journey back inward again. What surprised me was the relief that followed, not embarrassment. I didn’t feel bad for expressing how I felt or acknowledging how much it knocked me off balance. I was at peace knowing that even though things have cooled down, the fire is still burning. That means I still have work to do. 

This work is how I live my yoga. One of the principles I return to often is Svadhyaya, or self-study. Svadhyaya is an invitation to see yourself fully, every part of who you are, through a lens of understanding and self-love. It helps you look beyond the symptoms and dig for the root. It invites reflection. Instead of asking, "Why do I always do that?" or "Why do I always end up here?" Svadhyaya encourages us to ask deeper questions. How do these patterns serve me, even if they’re not helpful? Why do I keep finding a sense of safety in this place? 

With understanding comes acceptance, and from that acceptance we find the strength to let go of the things that wear us down, or at the very least, take the first step in letting them go. 

Living your yoga means living your life and welcoming everything that comes with it. Our experience is shaped by how we respond and how willing we are to pause long enough to let the smoke clear so the lesson can come into view. 

If you are navigating your own storm, take time to sit with yourself in love, kindness, and care. Practice Svadhyaya to gain a deeper understanding of what you are working through. Release blame and judgment, and instead, create space for loving self-inquiry. Ask yourself, “Is there something I can learn from being here?” or “Is this a necessary step for my growth?” 

I believe that, like the diamond formed within the coal, we need to endure moments of pressure to break through and shine. 

May this day bring you deep understanding and peace as a result.

With love and gratitude,
Dana Andrea