Years ago, when I worked in a special education program for students on the Autism Spectrum, we spent a great deal of time helping them move through transitions. Shifting from one activity to the next, particularly if it meant moving from a high interest to a less favored activity, was a struggle for our students. Things went far more smoothly if we could predict what was next and remind students that it would soon be time to change classes or activities. Helping students shift their focus and manage changes to routine made me realize my own issues with disruption and transitions. As a working mom with young children and a long commute, I remember how helpful it was for me to pull into the driveway, turn off the car, and just sit and be still for a few moments before heading through the door. I loved my kids and their energy, but I also instinctively knew I needed a moment to collect myself and switch gears from work to home life.
For some people, transitions and unpredictability don’t seem to bother them, but I continue to struggle to make big shifts quickly. As I get older, I’m recognizing that I still need that processing time to move from one activity or place to another. I like to know what’s coming next, and I get irritated and defensive if people start questioning me, making demands of my time, or expecting me to respond immediately upon arrival.
Something about the pace of our lives, the rate that changes are happening, and the not-so-subtle messaging to hurry up and master new skills or get left behind, simply leaves me feeling off balance and resistant. Whether it is the speed of technology or the fast-paced emergence of AI, the focus is constantly about getting more done and doing it all more efficiently. I have to actively step back and remind myself that most things simply are not emergencies and not all that urgent. Certainly, a few seconds to breathe and be a bit more thoughtful about responding should be normal! I know all of this. I try to pause and breathe and respond rather than react. Yet time and again, I find myself moving at a pace that feels exhausting; rushing about, making mistakes, and just being forgetful and clumsy in my efforts to hurry. When I am rushing or trying to juggle activities and multi-task, the typical result is I start dropping things, misplacing things, or even end up physically bumping into walls as I scurry around! It’s ridiculous.
On a daily basis, I need to stop. To set it all down. To simply slow my breath and my pace. I have to laugh at myself, as all the words I share with my yoga students about finding stillness, taking time, and being focused and aware of the present moment are the same words and lessons I need on a constant basis. I have admitted to my students that the themes I choose for yoga classes are often ones that need attention in my own life, yet I wonder if they realize that I struggle mightily with the demands and pressures of the day, just as they do.
I guess both yoga and life are full of surprises, transitions, and change. We’ll never completely master it all, and we’ll never be perfect. There will always be more to do and more to learn and experience. Practicing the art of the pause and allowing myself to simply do one thing at a time without having to anticipate what comes next becomes a gift I give to myself. My shoulders drop, some tension releases, my focus improves, and I can move through the day and all it requires with a more deliberate sense of purpose and clarity.
Change is constant. Time moves quickly. Those things are true. Yet the beauty of life is in the details: in the tiny, everyday moments that delight me or surprise me. I can slow down, take my own advice, and make decisions from a place that feels calm and clear, so I don’t end up rushing past the good stuff. Life is truly one thing after another. My job is to simply ride it all out.
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