By November, when we’re looking at bare trees and perplexingly few hours of sunlight, it can seem like nature isn’t doing much. But beneath the surface, quite a bit is actually going on. From nutrients being stored to seeds preparing for the conditions they need to germinate, what initially looks like dormancy is just a different kind of activity.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this idea of incubation lately, in terms of what can sometimes appear as rest or waiting, but is actually a crucial period of preparation.
As many of you know, it’s especially relevant to where I am right now. This will be my last full month of teaching before taking some time away to have our baby, and pregnancy has been an interesting and very humbling lesson in the difference between what we can see and what we can’t. An enormous amount of work happens inside the body, much of it beyond conscious effort or control. There’s also a fair amount of preparation, anticipation, and occasional impatience on the outside, and it’s easy to get overwhelmed by the list of things one ‘should’ be doing and forget to listen to what it actually feels like you need.
I am going through a massive life change, and although this is the biggest, it isn’t the first, but I feel it’s the one I am best prepared to meet honestly (thank you, yoga). We often assume growth is all about achieving something, reaching a goal, learning a new skill, or moving into the next chapter. But this whole experience is making me more aware of the equally necessary side of growth that is often uncomfortable, uncertain, and demands work before we have anything tangible to show for it.
Incubation isn’t inactivity
Sometimes, to emerge on the other side of an inward-facing experience feeling genuinely rejuvenated, we need to get a little uncomfortable, challenge the patterns we’ve grown accustomed to, build resilience, and confront the things we’ve been avoiding. Pregnancy has put me in this very “if not now, then when” mindset in relation to tough conversations, honest admissions, and just being real with myself. It hasn’t always been pleasant, but it’s also brought a pretty profound sense of relief and pride. I can appreciate that the discomfort is worth it.
In yoga, we might relate this to Tapas, one of the Niyamas in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. Often translated as discipline, austerity, or the cultivation of inner heat, Tapas is about being willing to do the work of transformation. This looks different for all of us, but in general it’s the commitment to show up, pay attention, and do the work, even when it isn’t particularly easy.
I like this interpretation for November and rather than approaching our practice with the assumption that everything needs to be softer and slower, I’d like us to explore both sides of the season.
There will be space for grounding, longer holds, and quiet observation, but there will also be opportunities to build heat, work with repetition, and explore what happens when we stay with something a little longer than we’d normally like to.
Building heat, finding strength
One thing I want to bring into our November classes is a little more exploration of repetitive movement and dynamic meditation. A teacher I’ve been practicing with lately, Steph at Leela Lisbon, has brought me back to Kundalini-inspired practices, particularly those that use repetition, rhythm, breath, and mantra to create a sustained physical and mental focus.
These practices can be surprisingly demanding, as what starts small and simple quickly makes you realize that repeating a movement for several minutes requires a different kind of concentration than moving through a conventional flow. At some point, the novelty wears off, and slip into negotiation that forces a startling awareness of your own relationship with effort. What a gift to be prompted to confront the removal of novelty in our lives so saturated with stimulation…
In any case, it offers some very valuable questions: Do you stop as soon as something becomes challenging? Can you stay present, adjust when necessary, and keep going without turning the whole thing into a battle?
These are interesting questions to explore, both on and off the mat.
I’ll be incorporating some accessible versions of these practices into our sessions, alongside more familiar asana. We might work with repeated arm movements, dynamic standing sequences, rhythmic movement, and sustained holds. The intention isn’t to exhaust ourselves, but to use physical repetition to develop focus, connect with our inner strength, and explore our sense of potential.
There is something very empowering about discovering that you have more capacity than you initially thought. Equally, there’s value in acknowledging when enough is enough.
A few of the postures and movements we’ll explore include:
- Utkata Konasana (Goddess Pose): A strong, grounded posture that invites us to work with the legs, build heat, and explore stability.
- Arm variations throughout the (Virabhadrasana) warrior sequence.
- Dynamic lunges and repeated movements: Using rhythm and repetition to build warmth and awareness.
- Bakasana (Crow Pose): One of the biggest obstacles in Crow is often psychological. We know what we’re supposed to do, but actually shifting our weight forwards can feel counterintuitive. There’s a moment when the feet feel lighter, the ground feels farther away, and we have to trust the process.
- Backbends and heart-opening postures: Exploring the relationship between strength, vulnerability and openness.
- Grounding forward folds and seated postures: Giving the body space to settle after more demanding work.
We’ll also bring in some Kundalini-inspired meditations, adapting the duration and intensity to suit the group.
The power of repetition, breath and sound
When we repeat a physical movement or a mantra, we gradually move away from thinking about every individual action. With a rhythm to follow, something to focus on, there is less room for the constant commentary that tends to accompany our everyday lives.
Kundalini meditation combines movement, breath, sound, and concentration in ways that are both physically challenging and meditative.
We’ll explore simple mantras and rhythmic breathing, using sound as an anchor for attention. One mantra I’d particularly like to work with is Sat Nam, commonly translated as ‘truth is my identity’. You can use it alongside repetitive movement or as a seated meditation, reminding you to stay connected to what feels genuine beneath layers of expectation, habit, and external noise.
Another possibility is So Hum (‘I am that’), synchronized with the natural rhythm of the breath. Inhaling with So, exhaling with Hum. It’s a simple practice, but one that can help bring attention away from everything we’re trying to figure out and back towards the experience of being here.
What are you preparing for?
Rather than focusing only on what we’ve achieved or what we need to let go of, perhaps we can look at what we’re preparing for.
What has been quietly developing in your life? Is there something you’ve been thinking about, learning, or working towards that hasn’t quite found its form yet?
Are there habits or ways of thinking that you’re beginning to outgrow? What kind of inner work might be necessary before you can move into something new?
And perhaps most importantly, are you giving yourself enough time for things to develop?
I don’t think we need to have a clear answer to any of these questions. In fact, part of the exercise is becoming more comfortable with not knowing. We can put in the work without a guarantee of the outcome.
There’s still a lot I want to explore in my own practice, and I’m looking forward to sharing some of that with you before my little teaching break.
Perhaps that’s the thing I’d like to take into this month: recognizing that growth isn’t always obvious, that preparation can be demanding, and that not every period of our lives needs to result in something we can immediately point to.
Sometimes the most important work is the work nobody else can see. And sometimes, we need to get a little uncomfortable to discover what we’re capable of.
I’ll see you on the mat ❤
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